What a Ferrari 250 GTO Taught Me About My Love of Cars

The Ferrari 250 GTO is a unicorn: there are just 39 in existence and nearly all of them are hidden away in private collections, emerging only for the occasional car show or GTO reunion. But Dr. Fred Simeone's GTO sits in a nondescript building behind a row of car dealerships in Philadelphia for all the world to see. Pay your $12, enter the Simeone Foundation Museum, turn left and there you have it: the most coveted collector car in the world.

I answered the siren song of the Simeone Foundation Museum in part because of this car. Like most car enthusiasts I have an appreciation for the greats, the iconic tools of speed that have acted as mile markers in the evolution of the automobile, and the 250 GTO is about as great as they get. It was one of the last sports racers to be livable on the road, the only place I'd ever glimpsed one before.

During a trip to Washington DC in 2008 I was out sightseeing with my wife and my father when in the distance I saw two gleaming, gloriously red cars in a crawling river of beige turds. I squinted to see and refused to believe what I saw: a 250 GTO stuck in traffic, being followed by a 575 Superamerica. Not possible.

I sprinted toward the cars, leaving my wife and father shaking their heads (and commenting how they'd never seen my fat ass move so quickly), and ran for the cars. Traffic was slow enough, and I was excited enough, that I waded right onto an active roadway with my camera at the ready. I got a couple of decent shots, including the one below. I thought I would never see a 250 GTO again until years later when I heard about the Simeone Museum on Jay Leno's Garage.

A unicorn in the wild: Ferrari 250 GTO in Washington DC traffic, 2008.

So I made the drive down from Northern New Jersey and entered the museum not knowing exactly what to expect. The number and breadth of classic race cars was staggering and I had them mostly to myself as I was there on a Wednesday morning. But with each car I felt a little more confused, a little more disappointed. Why wasn't I drooling over the Shelby Daytona Coupe? Why didn't I feel anything beyond a superficial appreciation for even the gorgeous Alfa Romeo 8C 2900A?

I felt as though I was trying to be in awe, rather than actually being in awe. I understood just how rare and valuable the cars in front of me are and trying to do the mental math of just how valuable the collection currently is made me dizzy. But something was missing. Eventually I realized two things: first, that race cars at rest are boring to me; and second, that I believe they are boring at rest because of how my love for cars manifests itself.

Now, keep in mind that the museum, which is a wonderful place for any enthusiast, realizes that these cars are better seen running, and their demonstration days are always packed with automotive pilgrims. They fire up a handful of the cars and run them around the three-acre parking lot behind the museum and they have a garage on site to maintain the collection. They are unique in this regard and I'm thankful for what Dr. Fred Simeone has done with his collection. I didn't go on a demonstration day though and in some ways I'm glad I didn't; I'm not sure I would have learned as much about the nature of my passion for cars.

The Simeone Museum's 250 GTO.

It turns out that the 250 GTO at the museum was almost guaranteed to disappoint me. Unlike the car I saw in DC, I knew I was going to see it, and my anticipation got the best of me. It is an icon bestowed mythical status by car lovers everywhere and I couldn't wait to see it.

When I stopped at the GTO I remember thinking, "It's so... small. And quiet." It was as still and quiet a thing as I think I've ever seen and it was made quieter by the fact that when running it makes as glorious a sound as any car ever has. To use that horrible cliche, the silence was deafening.

I was disappointed, but I wasn't sure why. It is beautifully designed, historically significant and handsome in its blue and white paint scheme.  At first I thought that my brief encounter in DC was a fluke, that my excitement had been generated by the unexpected sighting more than the car itself. Was Simeone's GTO somehow less exciting to me because I'm older now and more jaded about cars? No, that wasn't it: I still turn off the radio in my car and roll the windows down when I see a ferrari or McLaren blasting up behind me. I'm still giddy for cars. So what was it?

I didn't fully realize why I felt disappointed until days later, when I put some serious thought into why exactly I love cars. I realized that cars to me are the result of an impossible alchemy, living beings created from inanimate objects. These inanimate objects--engines, wheels, sheet metal--are disparate things until they are animated by fuel, air and spark. Once they are running and moving, they become so much more than "art" in the museum sense. They are alive.

To really appreciate a car, I need to see it and hear it in action. I need to hear it scream and watch it slide around corners. I need to be shown rather than told why they are spectacular. I realized that like a plane sitting on the ground with its engines off, or a bird trapped by the nets in an aviary, the 250 GTO in the Simeone Museum cannot truly shine for me until I see it move and hear it breathe.

Of the two, sound or motion, sound is far more important to me. Given the choice between seeing a Lamborghini Gallardo sitting in a parking lot or hearing its V10 screaming in the distance, and never seeing the car, I'll take the sound any day.

As a child I would try and identify cars solely by their sounds and I still do. When I hear a car on full song, it is as if the sound waves travel through me, altering my cells in the way that dopamine does. My mood is elevated and I'm connected to the car as though I were driving it.

Sound and motion are as crucial to how I experience cars as touch is to a blind man. Without them a car isn't whole. I can appreciate the craftsmanship that goes into each great car, and I understand their static beauty from an intellectual standpoint, but it's not enough. I actually felt sad seeing these beautiful machines sitting silent. It was like watching an aging athlete limp into a room looking small and withered when all you've ever known of him is the footage of his youthful accomplishments.

I learned a lot about my love of cars at the Simeone Museum and I plan on returning for a demonstration day so that the awe I hoped to feel can be realized. I know that hearing those great cars will mean more to me than seeing them ever could have.

Big Piston Forks
By The Merchant

Big Piston Forks (BPF) have been around for a few years now, first introduced by Showa on the 2009 Kawasaki ZX-6R and advertised as giving better fork response in both long, sweeping corners and over harsh bumps. So how do they work?

There are a few good resources for understanding these forks, principally Kevin Ash's article here, and a YouTube clip demonstrating their operation here, and maintenance here. I'll embed all of these videos in this article but you can also open the links by clicking on each references above. Below I'll try and break it all down as best I can from a laymen's point of view.

Traditional cartridge forks use a sealed cartridge inside the fork tube that contains a piston and either shims or holes which control oil movement as the fork compresses and rebounds. Essentially the oil is forced around or through the piston inside the cartridge and past a series the shims or through the holes, which are sized to regulate flow based on the speed of compression or rebound desired in the fork.

Newer cartridge forks almost always use shims. The oil is passed by the piston inside of the sealed cartridge before going through a stack of shims of various sizes which bend as the oil flows past, providing the damping adjustment through the various speeds of compression. The faster the fork compresses, the higher number of shims move to allow oil to flow by. "Tuning" a fork in the past has meant replacing the entire cartridge with an Ohlins unit (or some other aftermarket unit) or disassembling the forks to adjust the shims according to a manual provided by hard experience or a company like Race Tech, which also provided aftermarket valves to improve flow. More effective than older, cheaper forks, which simply had a series of holes in them to allow oil through but were prone to hydraulic lock, shim forks were a step forward. But even these share the problem inherent in all sealed cartridge forks, namely space.

Inside of a 20 or even 30mm cartridge there's only so much room for the piston surface area and the resultant passages through which oil can flow. The problem is that oil is a fluid first and fluids don't always react as people expect them too. In some ways fluids are like petulant children: the harder you push them to do something the more they resist. According to Ash's article, fluids resist flow in proportion to the square of the speed at which they're being asked to move. In simpler terms, fluids become "harder" the harder they are pressed. The smaller the piston, the higher the speed range the oil has to flow to get through its passages.

Enter the new Big Piston Fork, which like its name suggests, has a big piston. Showa created a bigger piston by getting ride of the cylinder inside of the fork tube that traditionally held the cartridge assembly and turning the fork tube into the "cartridge." Basically they got rid of the tube within the tube and simply have one larger tube now. That allows for the bigger piston with larger passages which allows the oil to flow slower. Slower is better according to Ash and Kawasaki.

So there you have it: Big Piston Forks require fewer parts, offer better flow and work with the inherent dynamics of fork oil rather than against them.

MotoGP Helmet Designs

Scott Jones, a gifted photographer who follows the MotoGP circuit has put together a great list of his favorite MotoGP helmet designs. It's over at possibly the best MotoGP and WSBK related website out there, Motomatters.com.

My personal favorite of all time:

Why Repeat Champions Are Sometimes a Good Thing

By The Merchant

I've heard the complaints about repeat champions for as long I've been watching motor sports: God, can't anybody but this guy win; This asshole is ruining the sport; On track battles for the win make great racing...and on and on. In many cases the complaints are valid. But I believe that as long as a champion is challenged periodically, then a racer beating the field year after year can actually be a good thing.

You would think it wouldn't be. You would think that the complainers out there clamoring for a hotly contested series would represent the majority of viewers. But the popularity of Valentino Rossi and Michael Schumacher (and the relative health of their sports during their heydays) tells another story.

That famous chin.

Seemingly laid back, Rossi is a vicious competitor

No doubt, having a singular force in any sport - a racer so consistent and so dominant that his skills seem preternatural - turns some fans away from watching. Who wants to see someone run away from the field race after race? But when the wins and losses are tallied and the histories written, who do we revere? Michael Schumacher, Alain Prost, Valentino Rossi, Giacomo Agostini, Mick Doohan...the very same men accused of making their sports "boring" by winning too much.

Just scan the stands of any current MotoGP race and you'll see a sea of yellow "46" flags lauding Rossi's skills and his nine total world championships, including seven in the premiere class. Were there years when I personally wanted someone, anyone, to beat him? Yeah. And that made me watch more because I was determined to see him fall at the hands of a worthy competitor. That polarization of the fan base--some for, most against--is good for the sport as long there willing and able competitors to challenge the champion.

Legends serve a dual purpose: they awe the fans with their skills, drawing some into their fold and push others to root for a field that is packed with perennial underdogs. It might seem counterintuitive but having a championship where anyone can win at any given time actually diminishes the prestige of the series in many cases.

Right now the MotoGP field is as strong as it's ever been with four MotoGP world champions participating: Casey Stoner, Valentino Rossi, Jorge Lorenzo and Nicky Hayden. They are challenged by racers holding WSBK, AMA SBK, Moto2 and 125cc titles. Going into the 2011preseason it seemed as though every race would be a caldron of aggressive passing with a revolving door of winners climbing the podium. But the transition from Rossi's dominance to Casey Stoner's utterly complete performance in 2011 had website commenters crying foul and complaining that MotoGP had become the new Formula 1. But they kept watching.

When a champion wins on points, with few strong victories to his name--as Nicky Hayden did in 2006--he's not held in the same regard as a rider who utterly dominates the field. And it's only when a new rider takes down a dominant champion that he is elevated to legend status.

Even competing closely with a legend can cement a rider's reputation as one of the best of all time. Kevin Schwantz took one title in 1993 after Wayne Rainey was paralyzed mid-season. His ability to compete with riders such as Rainey, Eddie Lawson and Mick Doohan made him a fan favorite though and he's still revered today. And every Sunday, millions of fans tuned in with the hopes that Schwantz to slay the giant in Wayne Rainey. After all, Rainey won three world championships back to back but no one today complains that he made racing boring.

Standing above and apart from MotoGP, Formula 1 is the most lauded championship in motorsports and the sport's champions are celebrated like no other. During Michael Schumacher's run of championships between 2000 and 2004, when he utterly crushed his competition, many complained that the season was over before it started, and that Formula 1 was losing fans because there was no real competition. But I believe that fans rooting for other competitors root harder when their favorite driver is facing down a seemingly invincible champion. Victory, or the possibility of victory, is that much sweeter because of how difficult it is.

Schumacher showed what was possible in a Formula 1 car. He raised the bar to new heights and as much as some hated his winning streak they couldn't help but marvel at what he was doing. Every viewer knew he was watching history and each had to admit deep down that they wished their favorite driver was doing the exact same thing.

In fact, Schumacher's return to the sport in 2010 was telling. He isn't competitive in the new Mercedes and while some fans sneered at him running mid pack, most were sad to see him down in the field. He belongs at the front because that is where he lived for so long. It isn't right that he's now just one of many instead of a singular champion.

I won't argue that complete domination can hurt a series. Case in point was the AMA Superbike series during Mat Mladin's run of championships. The Yoshimura team he rode for won 53 races in a row between Mladin and Ben Spies and because no other team stepped forward to consistently push them it made the field, and consequently the series, look weak. But I guarantee you that 20 years from now when people look back at the legends of AMA Superbike racing they'll have to first say, "Mat Mladin," and that as they say it they'll remember rooting against him every weekend.

My Top 10 You Tube Car Clips

By The Merchant

1. A Ferrari F40 and the best sounding Ferrari F50 in the world blasting down the straight at the old French Grand Prix Reims-Gueux circuit? Yes. Please. 

2. There is nothing on God's green earth that sounds quite like the 6.0 liter AMG in the Pagani Zonda R. Sourced from the Mercedes-Benz CLK GTR Le Mans racer it makes 740 hp and has an Inconel exhaust system. Inconel is the magnesium alloy used by Formula 1 teams for their systems and it is rare and beautiful and notoriously hard to form. But my god does it help make beautiful sounds.

3. One more Zonda for good measure: This Zonda F is being shown off at Pagani's headquarters in San Cesario sul Panaro near Modena, Italy. I'll bet the Ferrari boys' ears perked up because they had to have heard this all the way at their factory.

4. Edo Competition is a tuning company in Germany doing some amazing things with Italian exotics. The sound coming from this Maserati MC12 Corsa is the EXACT same as the fabric of the universe being torn asunder.

5. Go to 1:10 to hear the baddest sounding Corvette on You Tube. 

6. One-time Formula 1 and DTM pilot Christijan Albers wringing the neck out of his Carrera GT equipped with straight pipes.

7. Do you remember that scene is Better Off Dead with John Cusack when he and the french foreign exchange student miraculously restore his 1967 Camaro with an owner's manual, some hand tools and a 30-second montage? The garage door rises as Muddy Waters sings "Childish Man" and then Cusack's beleaguered character Lane Meyer blows the doors off the Korean drag racing brothers. Yeah, this clip is like that only in real life.

8. This video is terrible quality and it's probably from a cell phone camera but the driving is sublime: an unnamed pilot pulls the world's greatest U-turn in a white Ferrari F430. I could once in my life pull something like this off I think I would die and go to heaven.

9. I've always been a mustang fan but this just puts in the mood for something dirty. 

10. Short but good: an incredible sounding Supra driven by a hot girl. To dream, per chance to dream.

Used Bike Review: 2004 Aprilia RSV 1000 R

My personal 2004 RSV Mille R with upgrades.

By The Merchant
Italian sportbikes are rare, expensive, high strung and beautiful to look at--but are they any good? In the case of the 2004 Aprilia RSV 1000 R the answer is "Yes."

The 2004 RSV was a cleansheet design and the second generation of Aprilia's first "big" sportbike, the original 1999 Mille. Sporting a 990cc Rotax-built v-twin, the bike was meant to compete directly with the Ducati 998/999 but never captured the public's imagination like the Tamburini designed 9 series from Bologna. It is however a tremendous motorcycle in its own rite and worth the low price of entry on the used-bike market.

If the first thing you look for in a bike review is the horsepower figure then stop reading now. Using standard valve springs and a 60 degree angle between cylinders, the Aprilia lump was fairly promising for the era and made about 115-118 horsepower at the rear wheel. And while it has enough torque to keep the bike moving in any gear it's not enough to challenge the big Japanese liter bikes or the more recent Ducati superbikes (In fact in AMA competition it's pitted against Japanese 600s in the Sportbike class but has been replaced on the grid by the more powerful Ducati 848).

A revvy motor, the RSV makes its power above 8,000 rpms and feels flat in the lower rev rangers than its contemporaries, especially the TL1000s and R, which both sold new when the 2004 RSV hit the streets. Get it singing though and it is a sweet lump, complimenting the well-balanced package put together by Aprilia.

The 2004 RSV has everything you could want in an Italian sportbike: It is a beautiful bike, especially in red and silver. The revised plastics are more angular than the first generation machine with distinctive canards on the upper fairing that acted as wind deflectors. A trailblazer in its design, the Aprilia was one of the first streetbikes to integrate its turn signals into the mirrors and the tail section, eliminating the need for aftermarket pieces to clean up the looks of the bike. The bike's looks still hold up today and during my ownership I was constantly praised for its beauty. Luckily the bike was more than a pretty face.

The 2004 model had a new frame that continued the use of Aprilia's unique banana shaped swingarm, a gorgeous aluminum piece reminiscent of MotoGP machines. Unfortunately the original swingarms were recalled and replaced when some units showed cracking but my bike was up to date when purchased.

When you climb on the bike for the first time you realize just how tall it is and how long the tank is. Not for short riders, the bike pushes the rider forward and over the bars, into a true track riding position and into view of the multi-function dash which offers lap timing, average speed, top speed and other information.

Fire up the big v-twin and the sound is reminisent of the Ducati and Suzuki, but once out on the road and deep into the twisties and the 2004 RSV couldn't have felt more different from the Ducati's of the day. When compared directly to the Ducati 999 the Aprilia was quicker on initial turn in and almost as rock steady once on its side with quick responses to mid-corner adjustments and good feel from the Showa forks and shock.

Powering out of a corner or blasting down a straight, the engine isn't as stout down low as the 999 and is outclassed in every regard by the newer 1098 and 1198 superbikes. The engine is best used in the same way as a big inline four but it does it keeps the big Aprilia moving forward at an impressive clip. Ridden back-to-back with the 1098 though the motor feels flat and unimpressive.

The bike handles beautifully, inspiring confidence in the rider, and has enough braking power to overcome an overenthusiastic throttle hand...that is when the brakes are working. Among the RSV's few flaws was the notorious rear brake: it's reservoir located directly beside the engine it was notoriously difficult to bleed and the system was prone to failure. Some owners bought rearsets that relocated the master cylinder and reservoir to the rearset itself. The Aprilia forums are rife with fixes for the problem but during my time with the bike I simply relied on the front brakes to slow the bike.

While the RSV was comfortable for high-speed cruising, traffic is its worst enemy and its sibling the Tuono is the better buy for everyday street use. The 2004 RSV came in two versions, the R, which I owned for just over a year, and the Factory, which was equipped with Ohlins suspension front and rear, radial mounted front brakes and carbon fiber pieces, including the distinctive canards on the front fairing and the undertail pieces running from the tank backward toward the comfortable Aprilia seat.

I upgraded my bike (seen in the picture above) with wheels, forks and radial brakes from a 2008 model and was pleased with the improved brake feel and power. The Showa forks and shock offer good adjustment with both rebound and preload changes apparent after just a few clicks.

So if the bike is so beautiful, so balanced and so fun to ride, why did I sell it? With a young daughter to watch on the weekends, my only riding time was during a 30-mile commute through New Jersey traffic on the New Jersey Parkway. Not ideal and enough of a headache to make me fall out of love with the harsh riding position and choppy low-rpm fueling of the bike. Had I lived closer to the Catskills or the Adirondacks during my time with the bike I might have been compelled to keep it. Asked if I would recommend the bike to a friend though and I would quickly say, "Hell yes."

For Rossi It's Win With Ducati or Not at All

Rossi and the ill-fated GP11

By The Merchant

Ducati's 2011 MotoGP effort was hard to watch for any fan of the brand and in particular for fans of their factory riders, Valentino Rossi and Nicky Hayden. Honda sounded the alarm bells as early as the preseason testing in Malaysia, where their RC212V, a true weapon, dominated from the start. Rossi and Hayden were on their heels from the off and fielding questions about why their times were so far afield from Casey Stoner's. Rossi in particular had to answer questions about his performance on the GP11 when he finished the tests more than a second behind Stoner. The rest of the season is history but suffice it to say that watching Ducati scramble to provide the Italian legend a bike to carry him to the front was painful for any fan of MotoGP.

Time and time again, with desperation seeping from their pores, Ducati and Rossi couldn't answer the challenge from the Hondas and the seven-time world champion suffered the double humiliation of having his predecessor on the Ducati run away with the championship while revealing through his own poor performance that even his prodigious talents are limited. And now a man who five years ago could have gone to any manufacturer in the paddock and demanded his weight in gold is out of options. He's wedded to a mistress that seemed from afar a perfect fit.

When one door closes, another opens. At least that's the theory, but for Rossi the opposite proved true. When Stoner jumped to Honda, the door opened at Ducati and Rossi saw a way out of Yamaha and away from 2010 World Champion Jorge Lorenzo, a strong competitor and wannabe Rossi clone. But as the marriage to Ducati soured and his efforts with Jeremy Burgess to right ship bore no fruit, the doors around Rossi were beginning to close.

Three things happened to eliminate all options (other than retirement) for Rossi: The continued collapse of the world economy, the ascendance of brilliant young riders in his stead at Yamaha and Honda, and finally the move to the CRT format in MotoGP.

Rossi is a brilliant rider by anyone's standards. He is also an expensive rider-the most expensive rider by a huge margin. That means only a few factories/sponsors could afford his services in the best of times. With the economy continuing its decline even the established factories (Yamaha especially) are struggling to find the same sponsorship dollars available just a few years ago. Though Rossi can likely bring money with him to any team he chooses, which team could he actually choose? There are only three factories left in MotoGP and he's ridden for two of them and is currently with the third.

Even should Rossi desire a return to Yamaha or Honda in 2013 (assuming his 2012 campaign with Ducati is a failure), would they really need him back? In marketing terms he is a juggernaut but the factories want above all else to win. With Stoner and Pedrosa, Honda have their men. They would have had three contenders were it not for Marco Simoncelli's death in Malaysia. Yamaha has both Lorenzo and rising star Ben Spies on board and Rossi would be unlikely to rejoin a team with his hated rival. So it's Ducati or a privateer team, but even that would be impossible because each of the privateer teams seems headed for the CRT bandwagon, Aspar being first among the established teams to embrace the model over leasing factory Ducatis.

With Dorna CEO Carmelo Ezpeleta throwing all financial support behind the CRT teams, the future of the sport is up in the air. Rossi admitted during the recent Monza Rally that he didn't like the idea of the sport going entirely to CRT bikes but said to La Gazetta Dello Sport, "It's a little sad and it's clear what we must use less expensive bikes and if this is the only way I wouldn't have problems riding a CRT, although no one is excited by this."

It's clear though that Rossi would have problems riding a CRT. He needs to win, and soon, and a CRT team is never going to give him that chance unless all of the riders on the grid are on CRT bikes. He has to beat Casey Stoner in a head-to-head race in good weather for his time at Ducati to have been worth it. For better or for worse, he is stuck with the only remaining factory committed to his salary demands and in need of his talents.