[DeTomaso] Taming the Targa Florio (NPC--long)

[David in Durango]

Mr Drew once again will receive the the FRB [1] of the Day Award!

Last night upon arriving home, I shoveled 10" of new white powder until 
1:00am.  Eight inches more this morning, surprise! [3]

At least now I can dream of Bob Bondurant in a Cobra roadster pounding down 
the road into Campofelice di Roccella and plump little Italian girls playing 
on the beach!

MIke, please send a couple of EMTs [4] to  apply the Icy Hot to my "snow 
back" while I sip HBRs (Hot Buttered Rum) by the fire this afternoon.

Grouchy and Dirty under 18 inches in Durango (third mountain on the left)


[1] some kind of "Rat Bastard" [2]
[2] a term of endearment for those folks that hear you are looking for a 29 
Hupmobile and send you 14 pictures a nine ads "Hupmobile for sale"
or, alternately, vacation in Sicily while others are "snowed in" . . .
[3] Why is snow like sex?  You never know how many inches you will get, nor 
how long it will last.
[4] Emergency Medical Trollop












----- Original Message ----- 
From: <MikeLDrew at aol.com>
To: <detomaso at realbig.com>
Sent: Monday, January 28, 2008 2:53 AM
Subject: [DeTomaso] Taming the Targa Florio (NPC--long)


> Hi guys,
>
> Over the years, I've been fortunate enough to have opportunities to drive 
> on
> the world's greatest race circuits.   Besides West Coast tracks like 
> Laguna
> Seca and Sears Point, I've been able to sample the best Europe has to 
> offer
> including Silverstone, Imola, Monza, Hockenheim, Spa, the legendary 
> Nurburgring,
> and numerous smaller tracks.
>
> But for the past couple of years, my travels have been almost exclusively
> work-related, leaving few opportunities for adding to that list. 
> Afghanistan
> and Iraq are both rather lacking in the race track department.
>
> However, providence has once again smiled upon me, in a wholly unexpected
> way.   After suffering extensive damage to the landing gear on my C-5 
> Galaxy
> taking off out of Afghanistan, I was forced to camp out for a week in 
> Turkey while
> the damage was repaired.   With that done, I took off heading for Spain, 
> but
> then the entire navigation and instrument system completely fell apart, 
> and I
> was forced to make an emergency landing at a U.S. Navy base called 
> Sigonella,
> in Sicily, and it was quite obvious that I would be stuck here awhile. 
> (So
> far it's been another full week, and we hope to get going in a few days).
>
> When most people think of Sicily, they think of Don Corleone and “The
> Godfather”.   But when people like us hear of Sicily, there is only one 
> thing worthy
> of consideration:
>
> The Targa Florio!
>
> The Targa Florio is (or rather, was) the world's longest-running open road
> race, and the last true 'road' race as well.   The race was started in 
> 1906 by a
> wealthy driving pioneer named Vincenzo Florio.   He was the head of a
> prominent Sicilian family who were involved in numerous lucrative 
> activities, most
> notably the exportation of Marsala wine.
>
> In the dawn of motor racing, there was no series championship and each 
> race
> stood on its own.   Most were named for the prize that was given to the 
> winner
> (such as the Vanderbilt Cup, Gorden Bennet Cup etc.)   Florio had already
> founded the Coppio Florio (Florio Cup) race in Brescia, so for the race on 
> his
> home island, he chose to create a thick curved metal shield, or Targa, as 
> the
> award.   Hence, Targa Florio.
>
> (As an aside, Porsche had great success here in the 1960s, and 
> commemorated
> this by naming the open-top 911 the Porsche Targa).
>
> The race was held on public roads, which were nominally closed for the 
> event;
> the roads were extremely tortuous and twisty, climbing almost 2000 feet 
> into
> the mountains before plunging back down to the Mediterranean.   The first
> course incorporated some 150 km of roads and consisted of three full laps. 
> A
> shorter, 108 km loop was used from 1910 to 1930; races until 1925 
> consisted of
> four laps and five laps were used from 1925-1930.
>
> The final course was settled upon in 1932, and ran a length of 72 km 
> (about
> 45 miles).   Called the “Piccolo Circuito”, it began on the SP 120, just 
> north
> of the small seaside town of Cerda, about 50 km east of Palermo.   The 
> race
> ran right through the town on the main road, then climbed up into the 
> hills,
> clinging to the side of a steep volcanic mountain, with a broad valley 
> below to
> the left.   After reaching an elevation of more than 600 meters (2000 
> feet),
> just outside the town of Caltavuturo, the course made a sudden turn onto 
> the SP
> 24, and plunged down into the depths of the valley along the Rocca di 
> Sciara,
> utilizing a series of switchbacks and sweeping corners, then crossed over 
> a
> river and climbed steeply up the other side of the valley.   Clinging to 
> the
> side of Monte Fanusi, the road then slowly descended towards the town of
> Collesano, which boasts ancient paving-stone streets and an impressive 
> church.   The
> route then turns onto the SP 9, and flows down a gentle valley to the 
> small
> seaside city of Campofelice di Roccella.   After passing through the 
> center of
> the city, the route turns due west onto the SP 113, and the cars rocket 
> down a
> straight stretch along the beach that is more than four miles long-much 
> longer
> than the straight at Le Mans.   After a mile or two of curves, the route 
> then
> rejoins the SP 120 and immediately leads to the start/finish line.
>
> It is an extremely challenging course, and depending on whose count you
> believe, there are anywhere from 300 to 700 corners on each lap!
>
> Here is an excellent three-dimensional representation of the Piccolo Targa
> Florio course:
>
> http://members.aol.com/mikeldrew/PiccoloTargaFlorio3D.jpg
>
> And here's a 'planimetrio' that shows a kilometer-by-kilometer breakdown 
> of
> the course, and the elevation changes:
>
> http://members.aol.com/mikeldrew/TargaFlorioPlanimetrio.jpg
>
>
> The nature of the course prevented a side-by-side start; instead it was 
> run
> as a time trial, with the cars being flagged off at the rate of one per 
> minute.
>  In 1955 the race was added to the World Sports Car Championship, and was 
> a
> points-paying event until 1973, with most races consisting of ten laps of 
> the
> circuit.   The FIA rightly determined that the speeds had become too great 
> and
> the course was just too dangerous to race on anymore, and it was dropped
> after that year.   Regional races were held through 1977, and then the 
> circuit was
> retired.
>
> Castrol made promotional racing films in the 1960s, and they shot an
> excellent film of the 1965 Targa Florio.   This film appears in two parts 
> on Youtube
> (go to www.youtube.com and search on “Targa Florio” and it is the first 
> video
> that appears).   I have watched it numerous times, enthralled by the idea 
> of
> the Porsches and Ferraris and a lone GT40 Spyder being pushed to the limit 
> on
> this twisting, sinewy course.   There is also an outstanding video on 
> Youtube
> of Vic Elford pushing the Ferrari 312PB to its limits, including much 
> in-car
> footage.
>
> Faced with a broken airplane and time on my hands, I was determined to
> experience this legendary, epic route for myself.   To that end, I made 
> arrangements
> to rent a car.   But what to rent?   Well, it had to be Italian, of 
> course.
> My options were a Fiat Panda (a total crapbox of a city car) or a Fiat 
> Punto.
>  A friend owned an older Fiat Punto, and for a hatchback, it was quite
> impressive.   It had a small motor, but the turbocharger gave it a 
> terrific punch,
> and the handling was amazing.   So, a Fiat Punto it was to be for me.
>
> Unfortunately, with the passage of time, the Punto, like virtually all 
> cars,
> has grown fat and bloated.   Basically an Italianate VW Golf, the 
> four-door
> hatchback was substantially larger than I had hoped for.   To meet current 
> crash
> standards, the A-pillars were the size of telephone poles, effectively
> blocking a considerable amount of forward vision.   And it felt noticeably 
> ponderous
> and heavy, especially compared to my 1900 lb VW Sciroccos that I am so
> familiar with.
>
> Nevertheless, I had no other options.   So I climbed in, noted that there 
> was
> virtually no kilometerage on the clock (the car was just two days old) and
> soon I was on the Autostrada heading towards Palermo.
>
> The roadway was generally in good condition, with two lanes in each 
> direction
> on separate roadways, and very lightly trafficked.   Although it had a
> nominal 130 km/hr speed limit, that seemed to be routinely ignored, and 
> there was no
> evidence of any sort of speed enforcement.   “When in Rome…” I always say,
> and to that end I simply planted my foot on the floor and let the car go 
> as
> fast as it was capable.   Climbing a gentle grade, the engine spun at a 
> heady
> 5000 rpm, indicating 160 km/hr, or right about 100 mph.
>
> Initially the road passed through rolling country, dominated by the
> snow-capped Mt. Etna to the northeast.   Everything was a somewhat pale 
> shade of green,
> and the land seemed exclusively dedicated to agriculture.   As the road
> started climbing, rocky mountains began to dominate the skyline, and the 
> sun gave
> way to a high overcast.
>
> The road passed through a series of tunnels and short bridges before 
> emerging
> on the other side of the mountains.   As the road went straight down the
> length of a deep valley, I noticed something odd.   Rather than being 
> built on the
> ground, the entire length of the road was built on an elevated viaduct
> structure, which was basically a long, long bridge about 20 feet off the 
> ground
> (varying some as the ground rose and fell in relation to the roadway).   I 
> have no
> idea why they chose to build this structure for miles and miles, rather 
> than
> just build the road on the ground.   It seemed like an excessively 
> expensive
> way to build a road?
>
> Eventually I arrived at the exit for Cerda and pulled off the Autostrada. 
> I
> immediately discovered I was on the SP113, which formed the main straight 
> of
> the course.   I was on the Targa Florio!   But I was unsure as to how to 
> find
> the rest of the circuit.
>
> I knew that the starting line was located very near the Cerda train 
> station;
> upon coming across the station I stopped and got out of the car, looking 
> for
> signs of it.   From the aforementioned Youtube videos I knew that there 
> was a
> large concrete grandstands and a timing and scoring building on the right 
> side
> of the road, and a concrete structure incorporating the pits and garages 
> on
> the left, but saw no sign of it.   Oh well.
>
> I got back into the car, and a quarter of a mile later turned onto the 
> SP120,
> following the signs to Cerda.   A few hundred feet up, I was amazed to 
> find
> the road passing underneath a rickety metal footbridge, and then right in
> between the grandstands and pit garages, with a huge mural of the Targa 
> Florio
> hanging from scaffolding in front of the timing and scoring building 
> (evidently
> undergoing renovation).   I parked the car and spent a few minutes looking 
> upon
> these structures that I had seen so often in books and period films of the
> various races that were held there.
>
> I then continued and found the road immediately became extremely winding 
> and
> twisty.   Even though there was no traffic, speeds were restricted due to 
> the
> nature of the road.   The spacing of the gears in the gearbox was
> unfortunately wide, with 2nd gear too short and 3rd gear too tall.   The 
> anemic motor
> lacked the grunt to pull the foam off the top of a cup of cappuccino, so 
> clearly
> progress was going to be made by maintaining momentum.
>
> Doing so was initially difficult, because the obtrusive A-pillars 
> prevented
> me from adequately seeing where I was going on left-hand corners.   I soon
> developed the odd technique of leaning forward and to the right to look to 
> the
> left when approaching corners, a job made easier by the seats which had a
> distinct lack of lateral and shoulder support.
>
> Cornering power was limited by the obvious bulk of the car, but the tires 
> did
> an admirable job and stuck well, sliding predictably with a gentle hiss 
> when
> approaching the limit, and a dramatic howl when the limit was exceeded. 
> The
> brakes were simply fantastic; in fact they overpowered the rest of the 
> car.
> It was all too easy to shed enormous amounts of speed instantly, and all 
> too
> difficult to regain it.   Too, the brakes were so powerful (overboosted 
> I'd
> say) that it was impossible to heel-and-toe.   The spacing of the pedals 
> wasn't
> conducive, and such a light touch was required on the brake pedal that it
> couldn't be used as a fulcrum to rock my foot and blip the gas.
>
> Fortunately the clutch was light and the gearbox was a dream; as this was 
> a
> front-wheel-drive car, there was no real need to heel-and-toe anyway.
> Downshifts could easily be accomplished by just slamming the box into gear 
> and
> lifting up on the clutch pedal.
>
> So, while coming to grips with the limitations of the car, and learning to
> adapt my driving style to suit, within just a few miles I entered the 
> bustling
> town of Cerda.   This was a scene of chaos, as there were cars and
> three-wheeled Piaggio delivery cycles going every which way, old men with 
> berets and canes
> shuffling in the middle of the street, and an imperious-looking pair of
> highly decorated police officers standing at a corner holding little round 
> paddles
> with dots in the middle, apparently flagging down the most egregious
> transgressors for a bit of a talking-to.
>
> After a stop for some photos I drove up the road through the city. 
> Looking
> at the buildings which face right onto the road, I was amazed to think 
> that
> race cars would rocket up this street at speeds approaching 200 mph with
> spectators lining both sides of the street!
>
> The road left the town and started climbing.   Initially the speeds picked 
> up
> and I found myself buzzing against the rev limiter in 3rd gear a few 
> times,
> but for the most part the road flowed from corner to corner.   I was 
> prepared
> for surprises (such as the blind decreasing-radius right-handers that
> periodically would crop up) and thus I wasn't pushing nearly as hard as I 
> could have
> been, and was only lightly brushing the brakes, to set the nose for 
> turn-in.
> The surface was somewhat rough and uneven, and although the chassis was 
> doing a
> good job of soaking it all up, it was apparent that this course would be
> extremely hard on a race car engineered to run on a billiard-table-smooth 
> track,
> and its understandable why so many cars would fail to finish due to 
> literally
> falling apart.
>
> I noted with a slight sense of disappointment that the entire length of 
> the
> road was lined with what appeared to be brand-new guardrails.   Although I 
> can
> certainly see the benefit in so equipping this particular road, much of 
> the
> romance in my mind stemmed from the fact that this treacherous piece of 
> pavement
> was lined, for the most part, just with small concrete markers every few
> feet.   The presence of the guardrails thus spoiled that image, but on the 
> other
> hand, they did allow me to drive with slightly less circumspection than I 
> might
> have otherwise.
>
> After a few miles of steady climbing and twisting, there was a big warning
> sign (a BIG warning sign) telling of a rough patch of road ahead, and 
> advising a
> 20 km speed limit (that's 12 mph!).   Sure enough, the road became even
> narrower and dramatic whoops and dips appeared.   Combined with the sharp 
> corners,
> it ceased to look like a racetrack, and instead took on the appearance of 
> a
> three-dimensional autocross course.
>
> With a rock wall on one side and a steep drop on the other.
>
> A half-mile after the end of this particular section, I had a bit of a 
> scary
> moment.   I was flying up a short straight with a few undulations, and a 
> sharp
> left corner at the end.   There was a fairly pronounced hump just prior to
> the corner, and it was obvious to me that at the speeds I was traveling, I 
> would
> get slightly airborne at that point.
>
> I wasn't bothered by this; I planned accordingly and began my braking a 
> bit
> sooner than I would otherwise.   I was modulating the braking in an 
> appropriate
> fashion and was fully prepared for the moment when the car left the 
> ground.
> What I was NOT prepared for was the sudden, uncommanded acceleration that
> took place afterwards.
>
> This was yet another vivid demonstration of why I thoroughly despise 
> modern
> cars.   Even though I was fully in control of the situation and was 
> modulating
> my braking appropriately, when the car went airborne and the wheels
> momentarily stopped turning, the ABS system interpreted this as a skid, 
> and responded by
> fully releasing all four brakes at once!   When I landed, I thus found 
> myself
> appearing to accelerate (when in fact I had simply stopped decelerating)
> straight towards a rock wall, which looked particularly unyielding, even 
> by rock
> wall standards.   When you step on the brakes and the brakes don't do 
> anything,
> the instinct is to step on them further.   I rushed headlong towards this
> wall for at least a second with the brake pedal buried in the mat, before 
> the
> brakes decided that they might be willing to do their job once again, and 
> then
> WHAM the brakes dug in and the car practically stopped at the entrance to 
> the
> corner; I had to accelerate to get through it.
>
> Once that was successfully negotiated, I continued up the hill for a few
> miles and into and through the town of Caltavuturo.   I was so busy 
> keeping the
> car on the road that I wasn't paying attention to navigation, and thus I 
> failed
> to see the turnoff before the town, towards Collesano.   After driving 
> through
> the town and a mile or two up the road, my Little Voice told me I'd goofed
> up.   A glance at the (very poor) map I had brought with me indicated that 
> the
> turnoff should have been before the town instead of after it, so I turned
> around and headed back, and sure enough, a mile down the road, there it 
> was.
>
> So I turned towards Collesano and the character of the road changed
> completely.   The Cerda-Caltavuturo road was fairly narrow, but mostly in 
> decent shape,
> with a center line and proper markings.   There was virtually no traffic 
> on
> it however.   This road I'd turned on to was now substantially wider, 
> easily
> three or four lanes wide in places, but had no markings of any kind, and 
> the
> pavement was, in places, deteriorating seriously.   In fact I rounded a 
> corner
> and found a long section of pavement where the ground had clearly given 
> way
> underneath, leaving a moonscape of potholes that were easily six inches 
> deep.
> Just past this was another area where the entire road, save for the uphill 
> two
> feet or so, had simply dropped straight down about 12 inches; rather than
> fixing it the road crews had simply coned off the affected region; the top 
> of the
> roadbed was almost as high as the cones placed on the main part of the 
> road.
>
> This section of road seemed a fair bit faster, and more flowing, but the 
> fact
> that it was going downhill required greater use of the brakes.   Near the
> bottom it tightened up and there were a few 2nd gear hairpins.   One in
> particular was rather interesting, as there was a warning sign before a 
> slight rise in
> the road, warning of a 16% downgrade.   Well, I've got great brakes so I'm 
> not
> bothered by that.   So I went zooming over the brow, down the hill, and a
> hundred feet later I was greeted with a blind 180-degree right hairpin! 
> That
> might have been nice to know about ahead of time….
>
> The elevated Autostrada was in view at this point, and the road turned 
> left
> and went across an old bridge, underneath the Autostrada and over the 
> river.
> After passing a maze of complicated on- and off-ramps for the Autostrada, 
> the
> road then started climbing again, with a well-developed switchback 
> section.
> For a long while, it was possible to zing it up to redline in 3rd gear,
> perhaps 100-120 kph, then ease onto the brakes and slow for a second-gear 
> hairpin,
> the zoom back up and just touch redline in 3rd before the next hairpin. 
> Great
> stuff.
>
> The road then opened up, and for reasons that I'll never quite know, I 
> lifted
> off and slowed down a bit just to admire the view in the valley.   Good 
> thing
> too, because I came around a right-hand corner and literally ran smack 
> into a
> huge herd of cows that completely blocked the road!
>
> There was no human in sight; the cows were fitted with thick leather 
> collars
> with numerous cowbells on each one.   The cacophony was amazing.   I sat
> there, stopped dead in the road, for the better part of five minutes as 
> perhaps a
> hundred cows slowly ambled past.   Apparently this is some sort of routine 
> for
> them, and they were simply commuting from one field to another, or from 
> their
> grazing field to their barn, or whatever.   As the last cow passed I
> considered myself fortunate that I didn't collect one at speed, and 
> continued up the
> hill.
>
> After cresting a ridgeline, the road started plunging downwards and 
> Collesano
> was soon visible.   This was clearly an old town, with a majestic church 
> in
> the middle.   The road I was on ended in a T-junction on the edge of the 
> town;
> there was no sign for Campofelice di Roccella.   Just generally knowing 
> the
> way the course was laid out, I made the right decision and turned left. 
> The
> course didn't go through the center of Collesano, but I was intrigued by 
> the
> church so I turned off and drove into the town center, where I was able to 
> park
> the car and check it out for a bit.
>
> Curiosity satisfied, and driving lust yet to be sated, I climbed back into
> the car and headed out of town, stopping to top off the tank with 33 Euros 
> worth
> of unleaded on the outskirts of the town.   Although I had only used a 
> half a
> tank so far, I knew that gas stations in Italy close from 1:00 to 3:00, 
> and I
> didn't want to be caught short.
>
> After filling the tank, I decided to do some rough calculations to find 
> out
> just how expensive this gas was.   Let's see, multiply by 1.5 for the 
> exhange
> rate, then multiply that by 3.6 to convert from liters to gallons, and, 
> er…
>
> …oh my.   $7.35 a gallon.   Well, best make the most of it then!
>
> With the tank filled, I continued on, noting that the road was generally
> going downwards, but would occasionally climb for a good stretch, as the 
> road was
> cut into the side of the hill.   It was faster in stretches, and I was 
> able to
> use fourth gear a couple of times.
>
> Entering Campofelice di Roccella, I made no attempt to try to discern the
> original routing of the course, and instead just followed the signs to the 
> SP 113
> to Palermo.   In so doing I probably bypassed the original route by a few
> blocks, but eventually I found myself at the start of the long straight.
>
> And this was indeed a long straight, looking almost like a runway, except
> substantially longer.   Way off in the distance was a giant mountain that 
> went
> right to the coast, and a few buildings (the outskirts of Cerda) dotted 
> the
> hillside from about the halfway point down to the ground.
>
> I pulled into an Esso station for lunch.   Many gas stations in Italy 
> double
> as coffee bars and snack shops, and there I was able to get a dynamite
> proscuitto sandwich and consider my day thus far.
>
> It wasn't yet 1:00 p.m., and the weather was holding, so I made the 
> obvious
> decision to take another complete lap.   This time I knew where I was 
> supposed
> to go, and had a general feel for the nature of the various parts of the
> course, so I could afford to be more aggressive.   I ambled down the long 
> straight
> (there was nothing to be proven by going especially fast here, and 
> besides, I
> did see some Carbineri with one poor fellow pulled over), passed a truck 
> just
> in time to enjoy the mile or two of twisty road, and then turned onto the
> SP120 for the start of a second lap.   By happy circumstance, the road 
> becomes
> doubly wide in front of the starting line/grandstands, and I caught a 
> slower car
> whose driver moved to the right just as we got to this point, so I was 
> able to
> sweep past him without breaking my pace at all.   Then it was all 
> third-gear
> stuff, with the occasional snatch down into 2nd gear for a right-hand 
> hairpin,
> until I entered Cerda again.
>
> This time there appeared to be less traffic, hustle and bustle, as it was
> siesta time, so I was able to ease through the town without undue 
> difficulty or
> delay.   Once past the town, it was foot-to-the-floor time.   I had grown
> accustomed to the car's foibles and had grown confident in its roadholding
> abilities, and thus I found myself pushing considerably harder this time. 
> Most every
> corner was announced by the gentle hissing of the tires just on the very 
> edge
> of adhesion, and I began using the brakes in a more committed fashion.
>
> I made a complete dog's breakfast out of my one attempt at a heel-toe
> downshift, so I resigned myself to just snicking it down into 2nd gear and 
> letting
> the new synchros do their work for me.
>
> Through the especially narrow and bumpy section, I was able to get the car
> slightly airborne, but made a point of not going as fast as possible, 
> figuring
> that discretion was the better part of valor, and I didn't need to land
> nose-first and push the radiator up into the windscreen.
>
> I had been seeing numerous old stone buildings, with weathered wooden 
> doors
> and shutters and tile roofs, many of them appearing abandoned.   About 2/3 
> of
> the way up the hill, I realized there was a small village just off the 
> right
> side of the road, so I slammed on the brakes and turned into it.   There 
> were a
> half-dozen ancient buildings here, all of them seemingly intact, yet
> abandoned.   With a shrug I rejoined the road and continued blasting up 
> the hill.
>
> Approaching the turnoff below Caltovutura I was able to see there was no
> oncoming traffic, and whipped the wheel to the left, then immediately to 
> the right
> to head down the hill.   (This intersection features heavily in the 
> footage
> shot of the 1965 Targa Florio on Youtube, and if you watch it with a keen 
> eye
> it is very apparent; as the cars turn left, the way straight ahead is 
> blocked
> with haybales, and there are a substantial number of spectators here).
>
> I encountered a few cars from time to time, and spent a few unfortunate
> minutes behind a train of two or three cars held up by a truck.   I 
> stopped to take
> some photos and let the traffic clear, then continued on.   I was using 
> the
> brakes much more now, charging into the corners, and feeling somewhat 
> surprised
> because I found that I knew what to expect from each corner even though 
> I'd
> only driven the road once.
>
> Down the hill, across the bridge, and up the other side of the ridge, and
> there were no other cars in view anymore.   Approaching the site of the 
> great
> unmanned cattle drive, I slowed down, then realized that all the cows were 
> now
> happily established in a field on my left, so I pressed on.   Sweeping 
> into and
> through Collesano, I stopped at the gas station again to relieve myself, 
> and
> the attendants seemed puzzled by the fact that I had just passed going the 
> same
> direction an hour and a half earlier.   I pantomimed the act of driving
> aggressively, and said “Targa Florio!” with a big grin, and they both 
> returned
> knowing smiles.
>
> I encountered a few cars driving down the valley, and even with my 
> distinct
> lack of power, some prior planning and conservation of momentum enabled me 
> to
> pass them on short straight sections.   All too soon I was at the bottom 
> of the
> hill again, and turned onto the long straight.
>
> Initially I had planned to just make two revolutions of the circuit and 
> then
> head for home, but I was struck with an epiphany:   The Targa Florio 
> course
> parallels the Autostrada and there is an onramp where it crossed 
> underneath it
> at the extreme southern end.   So why just get onto the Autostrada now?
>
> And so I swept back onto the SP120 for a third go!   This time I was
> completely confident in the road and was able to push it even harder.   I 
> was
> reflecting on the fact that I was wheeling on hallowed ground, where the 
> greatest
> drivers in history, the likes of Ascari, Nuvolari, Taruffi, Moss, Fangio 
> and many
> more had done battle.   This was the most difficult and challenging event 
> of
> the racing season, and victory went as often as not to the bravest, as 
> opposed
> to the most talented.   Too, many brave drivers had their undoing here, as
> their equipment failed them, or their judgment lapsed momentarily.
>
> Left, right, left, left, gas, brake, downshift, right, gas, upshift, gas,
> brake, left…on and on the road went, climbing 2000 feet in elevation, then
> abruptly turning and descending again.   On the wide, downhill section I 
> came across
> a local in a battered VW Golf, and thanks to the width of the road and 
> with
> the aid of gravity, I was able to effect an incredibly rewarding pass, and 
> then
> quickly drive away from him.
>
> When I got to the bottom of the hill, after negotiating an incredibly
> convoluted series of turns and short little crossovers, I sailed under the 
> motorway
> on a rough, rutted 270-degree sweeper turn, and back onto the Autostrada
> heading for Catania.   Due to the uphill grade, I wasn't able to 
> accelerate properly
> and a BMW loaded with four people went sailing past on the left.   As the
> wheezy Fiat slowly picked up speed, I was able to overtake and then drive 
> away
> from the BMW, and once again I was trucking along at an arbitrary limit of 
> 5000
> rpm.
>
> Soon I saw a vehicle approaching from behind, and a tiny Hertz truck 
> (about
> the size of a small minivan) went whooshing past.   Well, if he can do it, 
> I
> can do it, so I gave it just that extra bit of throttle and followed him 
> for
> many miles, cruising at more like 170 kph most of the time.
>
> In about an hour, I was back at Sigonella, and I topped off the fuel tank 
> (43
> Euros this time) before turning the car in.   Arguably it was now fully
> broken-in!
>
> It had been a truly memorable day.   The rental car cost me $65 and I'd 
> spent
> about $114 in gas, and every penny of it was money well-spent!
>
> Here is a photo collage showing some of the things I was able to see on my
> drive:
>
> http://members.aol.com/mikeldrew/TargaFlorio.jpg
>
> Sicily is a beautiful place to visit, made all the more so by the amazing
> roads, light traffic and rather enlightened view towards enthusiastic 
> driving
> outside the town limits.   If you should ever find yourself with the 
> opportunity
> to trace the route of the Targa Florio, by all means do whatever you can 
> to
> make it happen!
>
>
>
> **************
> Start the year off right.  Easy ways to stay in shape.
>
> http://body.aol.com/fitness/winter-exercise?NCID=aolcmp00300000002489
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