Auto Italia
June 2004 THE FRENCH CONNECTION by
Ian Kuah
The Ferrari 250 came in many guises and became the generic term for a whole range of Ferrari Grand Touring cars. With 15 different models spanning the years 1953 to 1963, the 250 series encompassed a decade of elegant sportscars designed for both road and track. In a history spanning just over half a century, Ferrari has produced cars with a wide range of styling from beautiful and elegant to purposeful and even brutal. The most famous of the 250 series cars are undoubtedly the 250GT SWB and the incredible 250GTO, both racing legends and purposeful-looking with it. But among the road cars the 250GT Lusso has the most beautiful lines of all, and is arguably the most elegant road-going Ferrari of all time. This is, of course, a subjective judgement: a gut reaction to a design that looks right from every angle. But in design, what looks right normally is, and when you stand back and consider the Lusso's styling objectively, it becomes apparent that its basic proportions obey all the fundamental rules of good design. At the core of this 'rightness' in proportion is the long front, which conveys a sense of power and speed, while the rear tapers to a Kamm tail aerodynamically the most efficient way to finish a car. In between, the proportion of roof to body and its shape and position in relation to the wheelbase is also visual perfection.
If the Lusso looks like a simple shape at first glance, the way its body panels are formed in 3D belies that simplicity. The wings and door panels feature complex compound curves, a panel beater's nightmare, and in plan view the Lusso tapers gently towards each extremity. If it were a living, breathing thing, it would surely be a dolphin! Overlaid on this masterful shape is some quite exquisite detailing of the kind you will never find on a mass-produced car. From the neat three-piece chromed front bumpers and the handcrafted air intake grille on the bonnet scoop, to the chromed covers for the jacking points that celebrate rather than attempt to hide such a utilitarian function, the Lusso is a feast for the appreciative eye. And then you open the bonnet. Nestled snugly in the middle of the engine bay is the fabulous Colombo-designed alloy-block, twin-cam, triple Weber-carburettor, 60-degree V12 with its black crackle-painted cam covers. Known as the Type 168, this is essentially the same motor as installed in the road-going 250GT SWB. Producing 240bhp at 7,500rpm, it gives the Lusso an 8.0 sec 0-60mph time and a 150mph top speed. The interior is simple and functional in the typical Italian style of the era. But if there is one criticism of the car then it is the disposition of the instruments, with the speedometer and rev-counter offset to the center-line of the dashboard. It is a major distraction to look away from the road when you are driving quickly and, ironically, this triumph of style over practicality was repeated by BMW with the Z8 roadster in 2000. That apart, the detailing in the cabin is quite delightful. Every individual item from the elegant wood-rimmed steering wheel to the chromed hinges of the sun visors has been thoughtfully designed and crafted.
I have driven a number of Ferrari 250 cars including the redoubtable 250GT SWB, which is possessed of light and incredibly communicative steering and a really delightful four- speed gearbox. This car just begs to be drifted through the bends on a racetrack. However, although these two Ferraris share many mechanical parts, they are actually quite different to drive. The Lusso has a fine tiller too, but one that feels heavier and about 20% more insulated from the road. The 250GT SWB I drove two years ago was Clive Beecham's 1962 Tourist Trophy-winning RHD car and it had a really slick gearbox. Although it uses the same gearbox, the ratios of this LHD Lusso's box do not seem willing to slot in quite so easily. Then I realise what is happening. The race-bred 250GT SWB comes with a perfectly-sized alloy ball gearknob, whereas the road-going Lusso's equally long lever is capped by a tall, thin, black plastic knob. A round knob allows perfect operation from any angle, important in the cut and thrust of competition. The designer knob on the other hand, despite its thoughtful moulded finger-shaped indents, forces your hand and wrist muscles to adopt a comparatively tense position, making it harder to negotiate the spring-loaded gate quite so instinctively. When will stylists ever learn about simple ergonomics? Coincidentally, some photos of Lusso interiors show cars with the alloy knob from the 250GT SWB, and it is likely that individual owners changed the knob.
The only area where the Lusso requires a deeper well of situational awareness than is possessed by today's average driver is in the area of low speed tractability. Unlike the 4.4- litre four-cam Daytona, which has stump-pulling low speed torque and will happy pull third gear around town, the Lusso's 3.0-litre V12 simply runs out of answers below l,500rpm in a high gear and fluffs badly. Thus, when negotiating slow turns or T-junctions, use of second and sometimes even first gear is mandatory. Once on cam, however, the free-revving V12 is simply magnificent, the sound of its triple carbs overlaying the distinctive thrash of the timing chains and the bark of the twin exhausts. Life near the top end of the rev-counter is what this engine was designed for. It's always hard to get a true picture of what a classic was like when new, since there are so many ropey cars around. The Lusso is no exception, and a car that did not benefit from the right expertise when rebuilt cannot give you a true picture of what this car is really about. This particular car. Chassis No. 4411 GT, has been properly restored at the behest of John Mayston-Taylor - knowledgeable car enthusiast, successful race driver and owner of Lynx Motors International. It probably drives as well, if not better, than any factory-fresh Lusso ever did. Despite the bumpy country roads that made up the bulk of our test drive, the car didn't exhibit a single squeak or rattle, feeling as tight as the proverbial drum. In fact, it was hard to come to terms with the fact that we were driving a 40-year-old car. 4411 GT is an early Lusso, 28th of the 350 built between 1962 and 1964, of which just 23 were RHD. The first and last production Lussos were 4103GT and 5955GT, respectively. When you consider that the Pininfarina prototype was Chassis No. 3849GT and the Scaglietti prototype bore Chassis No. 4053, it is apparent that the production numbers did not run sequentially. Classic Ferraris often had interesting owners. The Superfast can count Peter Sellers and The Aga Khan among its owners, and some lucky Lusso buyers might discover that James Coburn, Steve McQueen or some other famous personality were past custodians of their cars. 4411 GT was first registered on 17th May 1963, having been originally commissioned for the French film actress Mylene Demongeot. whose beauty was on a par with Brigitte Bardot. In fact, she acted alongside BB in the film 'Futures Vedettes' and co-starred in other significant period films with Alain Delon, Jean-Paul Belmondo and even a young Roger Moore - whose career had not yet taken off. For whatever reason, Demongeot did not take delivery of the Lusso and its first owner was Clemente Setbon. He used it regularly both in Paris and to commute to his second home in Menton, near Monaco, where he is now retired. In fact, he did this for around 20 years before putting the Lusso into storage in his underground garage in Paris. Another decade passed before Setbon decided to sell. Advertised for sale in 1996, 4411 GT was purchased by Paul Baber, the London- based classic Ferrari enthusiast and dealer, who kept it for nearly six years. Baber sold it in May 2002, but the Lusso only left his care for six months - becoming his property again in October.
"One of the things that pleased me immensely was the obvious originality of the car," John recalled. "When we took off the door trim panels, we found '4411' written on the inside of the door skins in factory chalk, and even the insides of the fog lamp trims were stamped '4411'. In those days, every piece was made for each part and our exploration showed that the car had never been taken apart and had terrific original provenance. We knew from the thick service dossier that came with the car that it had been repainted once in 1967 in Paris, but beyond that the whole car was totally original.
Patina of age is one thing, but leather trim is often a total loss in a 40-year-old classic; and this was found to be the case here. "The leather had dried out and started to crack in places," John told us. "We had no choice but to retrim the car, but I was concerned about obtaining the correct grade of Connolly hide as used by the factory in the 1960s."
A new stainless-steel exhaust system was patterned on the original. However, this took two and a half days to fit because of the difficulty of lining up a system made of so many different sections, while making sure that nothing would touch or rub. New brake discs and pads were fitted along with the overhauled original dampers, and new suspension bushes to tighten everything up. These were drawn from what is known as 'new-old stock' held by classic Ferrari parts specialists.
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