With 1939 fast approaching, Romanian playboy Archimedes “Archie” Antonescu had set in motion an extravagant plan. He intended to startle the automotive world by entering a dazzlingly brilliant one-off race prepared Bugatti Royale in the 1939 Monte Carlo Rally. As with many of his fellow competitors, he had chosen to start the rally in Tallinn, Estonian. Tallinn’s great distance from Monte Carlo offered a significant advantage in earning points towards a victory. At the same time Mihkel Oja, the teenage son of an Estonian farmer, found himself embroiled in the political chaos sweeping his native homeland. As a pro-independence activist, Mihkel Oja faced deportation to a labor camp or worse at the hands of either the German Nazi or Soviet Communist forces competing to take control of his country. The lives of both men would be inextricably linked by Archie’s Royale.

In Search of the 7^th Royale (Part 4 – The unveiling)

Bugatti Type 57 Aerolithe replica

Archie with eyes locked on the draped shape atop the raised platform waited in frozen anticipation. Jean Bugatti basking in the prideful gaze of his father grasped the edge of the black silk drape. With its flattering sheen the drape hugged the vehicle it hid like a sensuous gown clinging to a statuesque woman. With a gentle tug the drape fell away. Archie gasped. Before him stood a glorious vehicle worthy of all of his grandest dreams. He loudly lauded his creation. He boasted to all in ear shot including both Ettore and Jean Bugatti that his ideas have given them everything they needed to build this beautiful car. “The Romanian’s” disrespect cut both father and son like a knife. Blinded by his own arrogance Archie only saw his ticket to the glory and adulation he craved gleaming before him. For anyone else this 7^th and reimagined Royale left no doubt as to the genius of Jean Bugatti.

Jean Bugatti’s 7^th Royale’s flowing lines integrated the close coupled masculine strength of the Bentley Blue Train with the athletic grace of Bugatti’s Type 57 SC Atlantic. As well, it incorporated the raked windshield angle found in an earlier Jean Bugatti design, the Type 50 Coupé Superprofilée. Viewed with no frame of reference, the 7^th Royale’s proportional perfection would scale to any size. That it accomplished such perfect visual balance on a wheelbase of 170 inches, if for no other reason, would merit its rightful place in the grand hall honoring great automotive designs.

Delahaye 135

Jean’s reimagined Royale towered as a glorious sum far grander than any of the contributing iconic design themes that he drew upon including the Bentley Speed Six, Delahaye 135, Mercedes-Benz 540K Autobahn-Kurier and all of Bugatti’s prior works. The 7^th Royale honored its Bugatti brand roots as well with the choice Crème de menthe green, the color of the iconic Bugatti Type 57 Aerolithe. Trimmed in black it made a proud statement of heritage. No less a statement of lineage evidenced itself with the re-imagined Royale’s riveted magnesium spine-like center exterior rib. An original Aerolithe feature, the spine resulted from the use of exceptionally light weight and strong but un-weldable magnesium panels. Magnesium while 75% lighter than steel unfortunately can ignite at welding temperatures. On his 7^th Royale Jean made extensive use of magnesium in addition to aluminum resulting in a reduction in the final weight by over a ton.

Mercedes-Benz 540K Autobahn-Kurier

No less beautiful an integration of leading edge technology, the reimagined Royale’s performance specifications set a bar that would not be achieved in production vehicles for decades. Power came by way of a supercharged 12.7-liter, dual-plug, 3-valve per cylinder, dual-overhead cam, inline 8-cylinder engine putting out in excess of 350 horsepower and over 900 pound-feet of torque.

Equally revolutionary, a strong, lightweight chassis complemented the reimagined Royale’s awesome power plant. Boasting hydraulic brakes, aluminum brake drums and an independent front suspension, it delivered handling that would equal that of much smaller and lighter competition vehicles. Race prepped by Bugatti, the reimagined Royale even featured integrated brackets mounted to the chassis to simplify jacking the car for tire changes.

Awash in self-congratulatory bliss, Archie both signed off on the completed project and ordered the expeditious shipment of this ticket to auto racing stardom to Estonia. A truck awaited in the Molsheim courtyard.

Bentley Speed Six Blue Train

Driven by one of the three Estonian language fluent mechanics who would service the Royale when it arrived in Estonia, the truck backed up to the dedicated building at Molsheim that housed the Romanian’s Royale. With a capacity of eight and a half tons, the Mercedes-Benz heavy duty hauler would accommodate most everything needed for the Tallinn start. Parts, tires, tools and of course the 7^th Royale all sat ready for loading.

As well, a liberal application of Archie’s wealth and Third Reich connections would pave a smooth paperwork path to Estonia assuring that the big Mercedes truck would experience trouble-free border crossings. Archie obsession on the importance of secrecy evidenced itself in full bloom. He did not want some curious border guard exploring the contents or worse taking pictures resulting in a premature reveal of Archie’s glorious Bugatti. The truck had been outfitted with Ploesti Oil organization side markings and papers signed by authorities ensuring unchallenged passage at every border crossing along the planned route. As added insurance, Archie would accompany the truck with a bag full of various currencies and Nazi letters of passage to smooth any issues raised by local authorities. It reflected the values emphasized in an upbringing that emphasized the power of wealth rather than charm and grace. Archie had been groomed by arrogant parents to simply wield wealth as a master key for unlocking access to whatever, and not infrequently, whoever he wanted. The Depression provided a world that had transformed Archie’s access to wealth into an addictive drug that crippled any desire to exhibit social grace or even simple common decency.

Mercedes-Benz Type L

Armistice Day saw the big Mercedes-Benz truck depart the Bugatti complex on its long journey North. Anyone caring to notice might have thought it unusual that no one waved goodbye. Then again considering what the Bugatti’s had come to think of “the Romanian”, maybe not.

Slowly trudging north in the hard working but painfully slow Mercedes truck gave Archie plenty of time to fantasize about racing south in his stunning Royale on some of these very same roads, rough as they may be, to a victor’s glory in Monte Carlo. The months to the January 25^th Monte Carlo Rally start could not past fast enough. Suddenly impatient, Archie scolded the driver for going so slow.

While “the Romanian’s” plans for glory filled his dreams, young Mihkel Oja’s future plans had no shape at all. He yearned to be a part of the Estonia people’s defense of their freedom but he did not want to bring the communist sympathizers wrath down upon his parents and their farm.

Hiding out in the secluded woodlands east of Tallinn, Mihkel helped his good friend Juri breed sled dogs. In the coming winter they would put the dog sleds to work delivering supplies to isolated outposts dotting the dense Estonian forest. Allowing himself a respite from his anger at and fears of the threats to his country, Mihkel had become quite fond of the Siberian Husky and Malamute sled dogs he helped raise and train. He marveled at their strength and stamina even in the most brutal of Estonia’s bitter weather conditions. As for now, Mihkel immersed himself in learning the skills necessary to assemble and command sled dog teams in the brutal Estonian winters. Depending on the load, dog teams could range from six to eight dogs, more if needed. Mihkel had learned how to organize a good sled team. Leader dogs needed to be strong willed, fast and reliable to set the pace for the others to follow. After the leaders came the swing dogs with the responsibility to steer the team around turns and curves. Lastly the wheel dogs, located closest to the sled, possessed the superior strength to pull a sled out from deep snow. Mihkel had selected twelve dogs to train comprised of a mix of Malamutes and Siberian Huskies both male and female. He gave them names that suited their roles. Leaders included Maksim, Arri, Leenart and Aleksandra. His four nimble swing dogs had names of Anna, Laine, Sofia and Leks. Kalju, Markko, Mikk and Keert formed his cadre of powerful wheel dogs. With winter snows coming, training his team had given him both something for which to look forward and a distraction from the chaos that loomed on the horizon. To ensure that with the first decent snow fall he would be ready, Mihkel had been training his team using a wheeled cart. One day Juri offered him a test run. A local fishery had an order for a facility being built deep in the forest probably for the oil shale company. Unfortunately the fishery truck had broken down. Mihkel could deliver it. Mihkel jumped at the chance. He craved a little excitement and loved the idea of working the dogs. On a good surface his team could do 30 kilometers per hour. On rough roads maybe 9 or 10km/h.

With a cold breeze swirling beneath azure skies Mihkel and his team of eight made good time. In great spirits as he approached the freshly constructed building, Mihkel, restless from his isolation, hoped to meet some fresh faces and hear some news and share some camaraderie. Two men in mechanics garb welcomed the delivery. Mihkel introduced himself. They did the same, sounding like native Estonians. Mihkel hungered for news from the outside. Despite the mechanics’ unspoken personal Nazi allegiances, the two men gave the boy free reign to share his thoughts. It did not take long to scratch his surface to reveal his proud support for Estonian independence and his notoriety with those he called Estonia’s enemies of freedom. The mechanics took note but did not challenge the boy. They might be in the need of more fish. Mihkel noted the passing of time and bid his new “friends” farewell. His dogs eager to run swept their lightened load through the forest and back to Juri’s.

Spring of 1938 finds Archimedes “Archie” Antonescu a wealthy Romanian playboy deep into his grand plan. He intends to startle the automotive racing world by entering a dazzlingly brilliant custom Bugatti in the 1939 Monte Carlo Rally. At the same time, over two thousand driving miles and a world away, an Estonian farmer lives his rural life unaware of an onrushing future placing him on a collision course with the Romanian Playboy’s dream of racing glory.

In Search of the 7^th Royale (Part 3 – The path to Estonia)

1st Bugatti Royale owned by Ettore Bugatti

June of 1938 found Estonia, like the rest of Europe, embroiled in turmoil. Furthermore given the historically tenuous state of Estonian independence and its painful location at the crossroads of Nazi and Soviet communist expansionist dreams, stability and hope existed in increasingly short supply. As well, at the same time, Estonian farmer and metal worker Jaak Oja faced a deeply personal and agonizing ferment that plagued his family and its future.

Ferment arose not as a product of the Oja farm but from the world around it. The farm itself presented a paradigm of self-sufficiency. In addition to livestock, fields of vegetables and an orchard, the farm’s quadrant of buildings included a forge and a blacksmith shop. Jaak had a reputation not only as a good farmer but an excellent metal worker. While the land itself offered solace and the joy of family, the politics infecting all Estonian life engulfed Jaak’s farm in the tumult of nations and people in conflict.

As incongruous as it would seem, subjugation formed a major theme in the history of the freedom loving industrious people of the small Baltic nation of Estonia. The beginning of the 20^th century witnessed the Russian Revolution of 1905. Led by the mercilessly cruel Bolsheviks the chaos washed across Estonian soil leaving the bitter memory of indiscriminate brutality and senseless death in its wake. Jaak remembered his mother, Elise Oja, recalling the horror of Russian Bolsheviks flooding into her town. There they randomly rounded up 90 or so Estonian men and trucked them to an opening in the nearby forest. At the side of a great ditch the Russians shot them all creating a mass grave. Elise would, could, never forget.

During WWI in early 1918 a Russia weakened by the Revolution retreated from Estonia. Taking advantage of the Russian departure, Estonia on February 24, 1918 declared its independence. One day later on February 25, 1918 Germany declared the independent government of Estonia illegal and occupied the nation. This repeated, yet once again, Estonia’s role as a pawn in the global power games of bigger nations.

With the end of WWI and Germany’s defeat, an independent Estonia reemerged. During this relatively brief period of hard fought for independence, the country would suffer under the constant threat of Russian-led communist insurrection. Then with the rise of Nazi imperialism in the 1930s the intensity of the Russian Communist and German Nazi tug of war over who would ultimately wrest control of Estonia from the Estonians infused many of the Estonian peoples with dread. Such worries haunted Jaak and his wife Ann. However, for their democracy loving son, Mihkel, fury trumped worry.

Cutaway of 1st Royale, chassis #41100

As a spirited, well read and patriotic Estonian teenager Mihkel abided by neither the politics nor the brutality of the German Nazis and the Russian Communists. He expressed his beliefs openly and actively by vigorously advocating for Estonian independence. In turn, neither local Nazi nor communist sympathizers would have felt the least bit saddened by Mihkel’s demise. With the simmering European cauldron of conflict coming to a heated boil and spilling into Estonia, Mihkel’s advocacy and visibility marked him as a target for the powerful enemies of Estonian freedom. Both Jaak and Ann sadly understood that their son would not survive the evil fast approaching. Elise Oja’s painful stories of the invading Bolshevik atrocities in 1905 lurked among the dark fears in their hearts and minds. In accepting a painful truth, Jaak and Ann recognized the stark choice Mihkel faced. Better for Mihkel to continue his life elsewhere than to lose it in his homeland. Mihkel understood he had no choice but to leave.

The new moon of June 17, 1938 concealed 18-year old Mihkel as he slipped into the night leaving in his wake the parents he loved so dearly. He did not look back. He could not bear to. The gritty scuffing of his work boots made the only sound. He paused at the wooden gate. He took a deep breath. With his next steps he would leave his home and old life behind and flee to exactly what final destination he did not, yet, know, though America filled his dreams.

His first stop would be a visit with an old friend, Juri, who had moved away from town. They both loved to hunt and fish. They excelled at living off the land. Now, living a good distance from the Oja farm, Juri raised sled dogs and ran dog teams that brought supplies to isolated encampments in winter.

Mihkel, in his heart feared he would never see his beloved Oja family farm again. He was wrong.

On the evening of that same June 17^th but a world away, Jean Bugatti returned the mighty beast to the grounds of the Bugatti factory complex. He had driven hard and fast across the back roads of the nearby town of Duppigheim on surfaces both rough and smooth. He frequently tested vehicles there. He had demanded much of his creation on this its first test drive. Now, like a victorious Roman general astride a magnificently imposing war horse he brought the massive bespoke re-imagined Royale to a confident halt. Though cloaked in a cobbled up unexceptional body (all the better to promote the secrecy so important to “The Romanian”), this chassis and engine would be the heart and performance soul of the client’s Royale.

Upon entering the Bugatti grounds Jean bellowed in exultation to the French workers awaiting his return, “Vraiment une voiture fantastique! (A truly fantastic car!)

Bugatti Type 57 SC

The athleticism of Jean Bugatti’s creation left him stunned. As the exhilaration of his experience behind the wheel resolved into comprehension, he had no doubt. This sublime expression of masculine beauty and athletic perfection would more than satisfy the goddess of speed. Nothing before, including his magnificent Type 57 SC, had ever brought to life such a glorious and seamless expression of his engineering and creative genius. At speed, it stole his breath.

Jean Bugatti, serenaded by the deep sonorous purr of the massive supercharged 12-liter straight eight, eased the Royale into the secure structure dedicated to the production of this vehicle alone. Easily a ton lighter than all earlier Royales while boasting an independent front suspension, the chassis, so nimble for such a large vehicle, inspired confidence. With 4-wheel drive benefiting from the use of CV joints in front, its ability to tame roads afflicted with ruts, mud and every irregularity conceivable astounded even its designer. Yes, some tuning, tweaks and testing remained to bring it to perfection, but Jean confidently believed that all the heavy lifting had been done. However, Ettore Bugatti, while no less impressed, felt far less sanguine.

Ettore by returning from retirement to actively oversee daily operations on “the Romanian’s” Royale had freed Jean to focus on the delights of engineering and design without the drudgery of monitoring deadlines. As a result of Jean’s immersion in the pursuit of perfection in both chassis and body design he distanced himself from the demands of the impending deadline. Ettore for the most part bore that burden and it seemed to be getting heavier every day. Worse, acting as if the Monte Carlo Rally deadline might slip Ettore’s mind, “The Romanian” added to the stress by calling with a disquieting frequency.

To meet the demands to prepare the car, transport it to Tallinn and be ready for the January 25^th start date for the 1939 Monte Carlo Rally, Ettore felt delivery should take place by November 1^st of 1938, All Saint’s Day, and certainly no later than November 11^th French Armistice Day. Luckily Jean had made heroic strides with the mechanicals, and the body design. Ah yes, the body design. Ettore simple described Jean’s re-imagined Royale design as a car enthusiast’s visual wonderland. A masculine expression of effortless motion and power whether at speed or at rest, its lines, both graceful and purposeful, captured the eye and the imagination. Already approved by “the Romanian,” Jean’s creation of this masterpiece seemed effortless as if the design gods channeled their soul through his hand.

Ettore’s earlier choice of Gangloff coachworks for its convenience, superior workmanship and almost telepathic insight into what Bugatti wanted even if he could not exactly express it, at this pivotal moment, would pay handsome dividends. With Bugatti’s Type 57 Gangloff had demonstrated in their coach building an uncanny ability to capture and execute the soul of an iconic design. They would be called upon to do so for Jean’s re-imagined Royale. They also understood the importance and financial reward for maintaining secrecy. Under Ettore’s strained eyes all seemed to be proceeding as hoped. However, not so the case with “the Romanian” Archie.

Konstantin Pats

As the late fall delivery date of his Royale approached, Archie’s experiences over the recent summer months delivered a powerful and disturbing reality that rattled his world. With his Bugatti build exceeding his wildest dreams he had the opportunity to test drive the naked chassis with the cobbled body. It quickly became evident that the car’s potential far exceeded his driving skills. The car frightened him. Reeling from a potential knockout blow to his dreams, Archie focused all his resources on a summer of driving lessons from the most renowned drivers he could hire, including Jean himself. Now with delivery set for the first week of November, Archie having been schooled by the best would connect with his Royale in Tallinn. Putting his wealth to work he bought a sprawling tract of  Estonian woodlands. There the isolated roads would allow him to secretly apply his new skills and practice taming his beautiful Bugatti “Pur Sang” thoroughbred.

With winter approaching, Mihkel warmed his hands by the fireplace. Juri’s rustic hunting cabin near the small town of Maardu east of Tallinn had become Mihkel’s refuge as he sought a plan for escaping his homeland. It would not be easy. Estonian President and heavy-handed dictator Konstantin Päts had closed the borders, muzzled the press, squelched dissenting opinion and basically put the country in lockdown.

Mihkel’s efforts to escape from the dangerous political cross currents of his Estonian homeland presented few choices, none of them especially promising. As 1939 approached with Estonians being killed by communists, the future looked bleak for Mihkel. It was about to get worse.

1938 finds wealthy Romania playboy and auto racing enthusiast Archimedes “Archie” Antonescu poised with a plan as bold as his huge ego to stun the European auto racing community at the 1939 Monte Carlo Rally.

In Search of the 7^th Royale (Part 2 –The Build)

Jean Bugatti with the 2nd Royale

For Europe in 1938 from the standpoint of the gathering storm clouds darkening the skies of global politics, Adolf Hitler clearly towered as “the straw that stirred the drink.” Yet, while “The Fuhrer” by word and deed made clear his bellicose expansionist intentions, a world, still weary and aching from the horror of WWI projected a blind-eye’s willingness to whistle past the coming graveyard.

A world populace tired of war and tragedy seemed intent on pursuing a futile effort to appease and flatter its way out of what many realists viewed as a ghastly inevitability. Despite ruthless Nazi power grabs and brutal savagery inflicted on its own citizens Western media outlets frequently authored fawning articles about Herr Hitler.

November 1938 saw Britain’s Home and Gardens in writing about Herr Hitler and his home state, “It is a mistake to suppose that week-end guests are all, or even mainly, State Officials. Hitler delights in the society of brilliant foreigners, especially painters, singers and musicians. As host he is a droll raconteur.”

In August of 1939, mere days before the start of WWII, the New York Times Magazine in profiling the Nazi leader portrayed Hitler as a country gentleman describing him as, “A man who ate vegetarian, played catch with his dogs and took post-meal strolls outside his mountain estate. The estate featured trappings that the Times reported, “Created an atmosphere of quiet cheerfulness.”

Some famous people outside of Germany sympathized with the Nazi regime. Not the least of which was England’s King Edward VIII who in 1936 abdicated the British crown to marry Wallis Simpson and who then lived a life of liesure touring the realm of high society.

For affluent friends of the Third Reich, the later 1930s offered heady times indeed. Archie with his seemingly boundless wealth from the vast Ploesti oil fields of Romania enjoyed, as well, the benefits of his symbiotic ties with the Nazi powers that be. For Archie, living at the crossroads of great wealth and political connection inoculated him from any discomfort much less the devastation inflicted by the Great Depression that plagued the world around him.

Ettore Bugatti

For Ettore Bugatti, “Le Patron,” his creations captured thirty-eight Grand Prix victories and over 3,000 wins in races of lesser stature. Among the ranks of the 20^th century’s first generation of great visionaries, Bugatti sat on the highest throne in the pantheon of automotive gods. As inspired designer, intuitive mechanical genius and master of form and function he stood alone. His gift for translating his genius into fine automotive art made his eponymous brand synonymous with speed, beauty and exclusivity.

Bugatti’s life and business centered in Molsheim, France where his grounds exuded a presence far beyond that of “business.” Adjoining his factory stood a magnificent chateau. A glorious residence, yes, but even more, an estate over which Bugatti resided much as a lord of the manor. Here in the 1920s and early 1930s as Bugatti’s geographic center of power, Molsheim served as the stage upon which “Le Patron” entertained royalty, elite customers, and world class drivers as well as friends and family.

Being wined and dined as a valued customer at the Bugatti chateau by “Le Patron” himself frequently featured in Archie Antonescu’s dreams.

Following labor unrest in 1936 at Molsheim that had soured Bugatti on his business, he handed over the day-to-day operation to his son Jean Bugatti and basically retired to Paris.

Archie’s call in early 1938 reached a bored and restless Bugatti as “Le Patron” gazed out the window of his Paris apartment located on the fashionable Rue Boissiere. As with the many days before, this gray winter day offered “Le Patron” little promise. Archie’s timing could not have been better. Awash in memories of the good times gone and bitter at how the Great Depression had choked the vitality from the company that embodied his life, Bugatti responded with interest to the wild dreams of the wealthy Romanian playboy. The caller’s frequent use of the phrase “money is no object” heightened Bugatti’s interest. If what he heard would prove to be true, which it would, it presented Bugatti with the opportunity to resurrect one of his grandest dreams in an even grander manner. Simultaneously, the creative fire in his soul had been ignited at the thought of glory reclaimed. The call populated with a wealthy prospect’s dreams and a master’s vision concluded with an agreement for the two to meet. The call ended leaving minds racing, hearts pumping and plans taking shape.

La Fenier, a quiet and rustic restaurant nestled in the wooded countryside outside of Paris, with its simple menu, capable kitchen and adequate wine list had been Archie’s choice for the meeting place. Above all it suited Archie’s desire for secrecy.

The understated black Citroen Traction Avante parked outside had been Archie’s choice for anonymity’s sake rather than arriving in the outrageously and sublimely beautiful silver V-12 Delahaye 145 Franay Cabriolet in which he preferred to be seen, and noticed. Like a hive bursting with too many bees, Archie vibrated with anticipation at meeting the great Bugatti while feigning nonchalance. His gaze locked on the gravel parking lot.

1936 Bugatti Type 57 Stelvio

With the sound of stones crunching beneath tires, Archie’s gut clenched as a strikingly handsome black Bugatti Type 57 Stelvio 4-seat cabriolet pulled in to literally grace the parking area. The beautiful Stelvio defied Archie’s expressed wish to attract no attention. Then Archie realized that the pride expressed by Bugatti’s choice of vehicle displayed exactly the willful genius Archie wanted to enlist in creating the car of his dreams.

After exchanging initial pleasantries, and with a shared fluency in Italian, Archie and Bugatti dove into the purpose of their meeting. To eliminate any concern on the part of Bugatti, Archie addressed a common stumbling point when discussing compensating a master for the production of an original bespoke creation. To produce Archie’s Royale, money would be no object. In a time when the average worker’s annual salary, if he had a job, stood at roughly $1,400, and the average cost of a new car was $640 a Bugatti Royale would coast approximately $45,000. The un-bodied chassis and drive train cost $30,000 with another $15,000 for the custom body. Archie guaranteed Bugatti an initial working budget of $100,000, more if necessary, to get exactly the car he wanted. The promise of this dream project infused Bugatti with a vigor absent for years. Eager, engaged and alert the Bugatti of old focused his full attention on absorbing the details of the dream that would be his responsibility to make a reality. It quickly became evident to “Le Patron” that the process would involve a significant level of vexation. This client made it clear that in developing a unique design he would demand incorporating some new and, in some cases, very un-Bugatti like executions.

The iron willed Bugatti bristled in recognizing that this opportunity came at the price of sharing critical decision making responsibilities with “the Romanian.” Bugatti possessed a well-documented reputation for a stubborn resistance to change. His recalcitrance even extended to opposing the updating of flawed Bugatti design elements with new ideas that would benefit his vehicles. However, in a profound expression of self-awareness tinged with the flavor of personal gain, Bugatti recognized the need to accept a co-authoring of sorts. He could not turn his back on creating the ultimate Royale and reinvigorating the Ettore Bugatti of old. Inside, he also knew that while there might be two bosses there would still only be one “Le Patron.”

Archie unaware of Bugatti’s internal turmoil, felt totally secure in outlining his ideas. In the decade since the Royale appeared, many advancements at Bugatti and across the automotive industry had significantly elevated the sophistication and capabilities of performance cars. Archie wanted it all.

Archie declared that extensive use of aluminum in the body, chassis and engine block would be a must as a means to pare the Royale’s elephantine weight. Not a new idea, Europe throughout the 1920s and 1930s made extensive and artistic use of aluminum in limited production and race cars with cost being the limiting factor. Bugatti himself had used aluminum in some of his earliest cars. With Archie’s wealth and commitment, cost would not be a problem.

Festivities at the Monte Carlo Rally

For the chassis frame, rather than steel, Alpax a light alloy material with which Bugatti had experimented would be used. Light alloy wheels and brake drums motivated by Bendix hydraulic brakes would upgrade Bugatti’s traditional cable brakes.

Significant improvements to the massive Royale power plant intended to provide for greater efficiency and performance would be based on advancements introduced in Bugatti’s magnificent Type 57 in 1936. Archie’s Royale would be supercharged with twin overhead camshafts and dry sump lubrication. Transferring this massive power to motion would be a 4-speed manual transmission. Based on Bugatti’s experience with the Type 53, Archie’s Royale would have 4-wheel drive and an independent front suspension to better face the possible deep snow and the certainty of rough roads. It would even have a two-way radio that had just been introduced by Motorola in America. Intended for police use, it would facilitate communication with his support team.

Archie envisioned his Royale bursting on the scene to rave reviews from a stunned motoring press. It would capture the imagination of the racing world gathered for the 1939 Monte Carlo Rally. It would be hailed as the seamless integration of all that represented the best of Bugatti.

Bentley Blue Train

But what of his Royale’s body? The skin had to be equal to the magnificent entrails. In Archie’s mind it had to capture the masculine power of the famed Bentley Blue Train with an elegance worthy of display at the Louvre. Only one person merited Archie’s trust. The visual presence of the 7^th Royale had to come from the mind of Jean Bugatti, Ettore’s son and the inspired design genius behind the exquisite Bugatti Type 57 SC Atlantic.

Bugatti Type 57 SC Atlantic

Here the two bosses had a difference of opinion and Bugatti exercised his personal perspective as the preeminent “Le Patron.” Archie stated his desire to employ body builder J. Gurney Nutting of London, England because of its history with the Bentley Blue Train. Bugatti had other ideas. For two very good reasons he adamantly advocated for Carrossier Gangloff of Colmar, France. First, by the mid-1930s Gangloff had established itself as Bugatti’s most important outside coachbuilder with enormous success in uniquely expressing Jean Bugatti’s iconic Type 57 concept with over 180 individual Type 57 bodies created. Bugatti knew this would be the Carrossier to bring his son Jean’s design for the Romanian to glorious life. Secondly, the close proximity of Molsheim and Colmar in Alsace offered a great advantage. Bugatti understood that the extent of his Romanian customer’s wish list made time a precious commodity. The difference between shipping a chassis and a body between Molsheim and London versus driving the short distance between Alsatian neighbors Bugatti and Gangloff could well determine the difference between making and missing critical deadlines. Like a force of nature on this decision Bugatti could not be denied. Gangloff would body the 7^th Royale.

Their conversation which began with the sun high in the sky concluded as the colors of the coming sunset painted the Parisian sky with an orangey rose hue. With hands outstretch, Archie with a vigor that seemed to gush from his every pore and “Le Patron” with a firm confidence that seemed anchored in the earth upon which he stood, shook hands to seal the deal.

Returning home though the wooded countryside, the warm dappled light of the fading sun danced across the hood. Archie, with a few hill climbs and local road races under his belt fancying himself a skillful driver, attempted to flog the somewhat anemic Citroen down the twisting country road. Sporting a smug smile of delighted self-importance Archie basked in the experience of dealing directly with the great Bugatti in person. He reveled in the success of the meeting. The exhilaration of seeing his dream come to life fired his imagination. His thoughts now turned to the 1939 rally itself.

The Monte Carlo Rally rules significantly rewarded drivers setting out from the most distant starting points. His choices had narrowed to three cities Athens, Greece; Stavanger, Norway; and Tallinn, Estonia. Six of the last seven winners had started from one of those three sites.

Tallinn had significant oil shale deposits of considerable interest to the Nazi war machine and the Antonescu family. Archie could rely on having significant resources available to him in Estonia. It made his decision easy. His Royale would start the Monte Carlo Rally in Tallinn.

For an outrageous pre-war Olympian car whose sheer beauty, power, rarity and mass screamed limitless excess, this would surely be the last place one would think to look. But, then, nobody would have the slightest reason to look because, like Beethoven’s 10th Symphony, DaVinci’s 2nd Mona Lisa or Moses 11^th tablet, this Bugatti never existed. At least no such belief resided in the minds of the living. However, while it is said that the dead can tell no tales, no one has said the dead can leave no clues.

In Search of the 7^th Royale  (Part 1)

Jaak Oja’s farm

Once a month for decades the old man would enter the weathered barn and pass a lifeless Lanz Bulldog tractor and a dusty array of long dormant metal working tools. Reaching the dimly lit back wall behind the stacked hay bales he would lift a rack of horse tack to the side and pry back a loose wall panel. Entering a hidden back room illuminated solely by his handheld kerosene lamp he would move to the front of an imposing vehicle that lurked in the dark shadows and filled the room. As he had done hundreds of times before, he would lift the great hood to gain access to a massive locomotive engine. Removing the dual sets of spark plugs, he would squirt oil into each of the eight cavernous cylinders. Moving to the front of the engine, his gnarled hands would place a great wrench behind the fan to gain purchase. He would give the engine a few turns and, as he had done for decades before, keep its cylinder walls protected. Sadly, he understood that the time fast approached when he could no longer protect this great secret beast. Beneath a crystal clear summer sky he shuffled back to the quiet of the neat but rustic farm house that had been the only home he had ever known since his birth in 1901. Farmer and machinist Jaak Oja knew his 56-acre farm outside of Tallinn, Estonia, like he, faced an uncertain future as did his beautiful beast. He had to do something.

1930s Romanian playboy Archimedes (Archie) Antonescu luxuriated in the vast family wealth accrued from its association with the famous Ploesti oil fields of Romania. Related to Romanian dictator Ion Antonescu, Archie’s well documented Nazi sympathies evidenced themselves in various Ploesti oil arrangements and associations. Archie had bragged that he had one time shared a pleasant dinner with “the Fuhrer” at his family’s vacation home near Berchtesgaden in the German Alps. Backed by incredible wealth he dedicated his life to leisure and personal gratification. In Archie’s mind nothing was too good for Archie and he had the money to pursue those ends. While fit and a capable athlete he was a far more capable carouser. Archie’s romances enjoyed constant tabloid coverage. His passion for motorsports was exceeded only by his desire for notoriety. The two blended seamlessly with his fascination for the annual Monte Carlo Rally to the French Riviera.

As a young boy before WWI the adventure of racing to faraway Monte Carlo captured Archie’s imagination. In the ensuing years, however, the meteoric advancement of automobile reliability and performance, rendered the original distance from Paris or Berlin to Monte Carlo as less than inspiring. Race organizers responded by increasing the distance. In the 1930s race entrants could select their starting point with a premium being placed on the total distance driven. Scouring maps of Europe for rally route starting points offering the longest distances to Monte Carlo revealed the best to be Athens, Greece, Stavanger, Norway and Tallinn, Estonia. Famous drivers who raced in the Monte Carlo Rally of the 1930s included Donald Healey, Luigi Chinetti and Rudolf Caracciola. Healey won in 1931 and picked Tallinn as his starting point in 1933.

1938 Monte Carlo Rallye Control Point

Archie loved being part of the Monte Carlo Rally excitement. The parties, the famous people and the wonderful cars all marinating in a stew of race fueled adventure. In the festive frenzy of the 1938 rally Archie realized he no longer wanted to simply be a cheering fan, he wanted the status of the one being cheered. By mid-winter of 1938 he had devised a plan that would ensure his notoriety with a heart stopping blend of performance and comfort.

In 1938 the Monte Carlo Rally witnessed more than race winner trophies. Prizes included the Grand Prix de Comfort and the Closed Car Prize. With the winning of trophies for both speed and beauty in mind Archie planned to dominate the rally with a car both spectacularly fast and breathtakingly beautiful. Backed by his unlimited credit line, his first call went to Molshiem, France and the office of pre-eminent automobile designer and manufacturer Ettore Bugatti.

Renowned for his dominant and victorious race cars, beautiful designs, and their associated breathtaking prices in the 1920s and 1930s, Bugatti like many premium automobile manufacturers suffered a serious reversal of fortunes at the hands of the Great Depression. This call from one of Europe’s wealthiest men in 1938 could not have been a more welcome turn of events for “Le Patron.” That the caller’s request made it clear money would be no object indeed gave substance to the phrase “Manna from Heaven,” though, clearly, notorious Archie had no angel’s wings.

Archie knew what he wanted and above all he wanted brilliance, exclusivity and secrecy. He envisioned surprising everyone at the 1938 Monte Carlo Rally by entering the most beautiful and powerful car in the world. He would have Mr. Bugatti create a Bugatti Royale to Archie’s personal specifications. From 1926 to 1933, Bugatti, the master, had built six Bugatti Royales, beautiful leviathans that many still consider the greatest motor car the world had ever seen.

Size comparison. Bugatti Royale #5 built in 1931 and Bugatti Atlantic

Bugatti’s prototype Royale with a length of over twenty-feet rested its 7,000 pound weight on 36-inch tires as tall as a kitchen counter. Powered by an elephantine 12.7-liter 8-cylinder locomotive engine, the Royale boasted an unheard-of 300 horsepower. Inconceivably powerful for its day, Bugatti’s Royale, starting in high gear, could easily and smoothly accelerate from a standstill to over 100 mph.

Since Bugatti only provided the chassis, engine and grill for the Royale, Archie needed the right company to design and build the body. In Archie’s mind no doubt existed. It had to be J. Gurney Nutting & Co. Limited of England that in 1931 had been appointed as the Motor Body Builders to His Royal Highness England’s Prince of Wales. A pre-WWII bespoke coach builder considered “At the top of the tree” as the British say of something recognized as the best, Gurney Nutting enjoyed a well deserved reputation for excellence. They built a fan-base of rich and royal Olympian car owners by creating visually compelling designs noted for their masculine beauty and naturally balanced proportions.

Bugatti did his best to facilitate a working relationship of the highest order in connecting Archie with the good people at Gurney Nutting. Needless to say the folks at Gurney Nutting could not have been happier or more accommodating.

For Archie, Gurney Nutting in addition to its professional brilliance and execution checked four very important boxes. One, a decade earlier they had partners with, then, famous but now defunct famed coach builder Weymann who created the bodies for Bugatti’s Royales. Second, Many of the same Weymann craftsman who had produced the Royale bodies remained in Gurney Nutting’s employ. Third, and to Archie of supreme importance, they assured him that they could keep a secret. Fourth and of paramount importance, Gurney Nutting had designed and built the iconic Bentley Blue Train which Archie had embraced to be the inspiration for his Royale.

Bentley Blue Train

Built on the storytelling pillars of courage, obstacles overcome and victory, the Bentley Blue Train legend celebrated a true story of man and automobile at their best. Responding to a challenge, famed “Bentley Boy,” Wolf Barnato, at the wheel of his Bentley Speed Six, raced the famed Blue Train Passenger Express that ran between the French cities of Cannes and Calais. Despite heavy rains and dense fog encountered over rough roads for the 786 miles from Cannes on the French Cote d’Azur to Calais, Barnato and the Bentley won and became legendary.

The Bentley Blue Train heroics gave shape to Archie’s dreams for his Monte Carlo Rally winning machine. However, compared to the Bentley Blue Train, Archie’s Royale would boast 66% more horsepower, be 4 ½ feet longer and cosset its occupants in sumptuous luxury.

Archie knew what he wanted and he would build it, now, no matter the cost.

This fictional story describes the greatest automobile of the 20^th century abandoned in anonymity to a quiet corner of a Europe about to enter World War II and the effort to secret it out from behind the Iron Curtain 50 years later.

As a Drivin’ News reader would you be interested in this story being provided in periodic installments?

Alone with my thoughts I cruised along quiet slender two-lanes. They meandered through the forests and cleared farmlands of the piedmont that connects the downslope of the Blue Ridge Mountains to the coastal plain. While nearly an hour of driving remained, having left the main highway behind, few cars would interrupt my peaceful reverie. Though launched on my journey by the tales shared by acquaintances, no words could have prepared me for what awaited.

Stories about vintage vehicles strewn about forests and festooned with vines and violated by trees tend to deliver far less than promised or hoped for. Not so this time, by a long shot.

Meet the man trapped by a forest of trucks.

Trapped by a forest of trucks

Speaking with me on the phone the day before, Glenn Duncan, President and majority owner of the well respected P.L. Duncan Trucking,  had responded to my request to photograph old trucks on his property by welcoming me in a most accommodating country manner. Now I found myself approaching ground zero for the “trucks in the forest” legend.

The soothing voice of my WAZE dashboard Sacajawea said I had arrived as she directed me to take a right onto a rutted dirt road leading to a sprawling farm. Where I am from, to be judged “huge” a field required the space to accommodate a regulation football game. The parcel surrounding this dirt road qualified as “country huge”. That meant it could accommodate a professional football stadium and much of the parking. Shortly I realized that this was one of Glenn’s fields, just not the one I sought.

Proceeding further along the main road brought into view an expansive woodland area to my left. A large clearing carved from the forest and populated with a number of huge sheds had at its center a sturdy brick building that had once been a country store. Encircled by a neatly arrayed necklace of rugged semi-tractors from bygone decades, the old store served as Glenn’s office and home to a decidedly personal automobilia collection.

Walking across the dusty parking lot, ranks of rusted truck hulks in various states of decline faced out proudly standing shoulder to shoulder. Like a ghostly honor guard at attention for a military wedding, cab-overs, bullnoses, conventionals and sleepers with brands across a spectrum including Macks, Whites, Corbitts, Studebakers, Kenworths, Peterbilts and Fords held a silent vigil.

Of sturdy design and substance, the repurposed old brick store with its large display windows gave the feeling of a portal into the past as I approached its weathered front door.

Entering via the wooden doors to old stores seems accompanied by a comfortingly familiar soundtrack of creaking wood, squeaking hinges and, from somewhere, musical notes born of bells on a strap that lifts the spirits in a way that instills a brief heartening sense of “good old days.”

Welcoming me while cradling in her arms one of the happiest babies I have ever witnessed, Grandma Kim the part-time bookkeeper, informed me that Glenn would be back in an hour or two. Without diverting her attention from 8-month old grandson Levi, Grandma Kim said, “Glenn says you are welcome to explore to your hearts content.” I figured I had already seen pretty much all to see during my entrance. I could not have been more wrong. Much like the stone lions that serve as silent sentries at the entrance to the New York City Library, the row of historic over-the-road semi-tractors simply served as greeters to the extraordinary content that awaited a visitor with curiosity, good hiking boots and long pants.

I walked across a broad hot flat expanse paved with white stone dust that kicked up at the slightest urging of any passing vehicle. I approached an open airplane hangar-like structure on the edge of the forest. Inside hidden in the shadows of a bright high noon sun sat an eclectic array of 1930s pick-up trucks to 1960s conventional Peterbilts. A light blanket of dust blanketed everything in view. To navigate among the entombed occupants for a closer look would be nearly impossible as the vehicles had been stored in a manner not unlike an overstuffed Manhattan parking garage. This impenetrability would be a challenge faced repeatedly during my exploration of this elephant burial ground for hard working vehicles with past productive lives spanning much of the 20^th century. However, much of what awaited would be found bleaching naked in the sun.

Entering an expanse richly populated with thorny bushes and clusters of weathered mid-2oth century truck carcasses, the ever present barbed shrubs clung to me like clawed groupies at a rock star convention. I persevered.

Approaching the surrounding forest served as an introduction to the immensity of what I had chosen to document. Intermingled with trees, and at times embedded in them, rows of medium and heavy duty trucks and semi-tractors populated the woods like ghosts in an abandoned graveyard. A phalanx of mid-fifties cab-over Fords led to a stand of trees that provided a resting place (final?) for a collection of late 1940s dump trucks, pickup trucks and semi-tractors. Big rigs cocooned in webs of vines could be seen in every direction. Vintage trucks of all makes and models languished ensnared in and bound by forest growth that would accelerate the inevitable dust to dust eventuality. Other trucks of all stripes baked in the sun. Burly tandem tractors sitting like great beached ships devoid of life, yet defiant, faced off against the ravages of time.

Another mammoth shed appeared chockablock with tow trucks, fire engines, stake bodies and more. Frustrated by how they had all been packed nose in from both sides rendering them un-viewable and, thus, impossible to photograph, I moved on.

I walked resigned to shredding my pants on the omnipresent barbed plant life. Big B Series Macks revealed themselves to be as common as pigeons in the park. L Series Macks enjoyed a large presence as well.  A wealth of 1930s, ‘40s and ‘50s pickup trucks in all states of condition could fully populate a Cars, Coffee and Conifers all their own. I hiked and photographed for hours consistently agog at this woodland museum’s historic contents. As I returned to the office in hopes of seeing Glenn, my experience in the woods can only be described as overwhelming. Oh yes, one other interesting fact, I only had the time to explore half of Glenn’s graveyard forest. OMG!

Unprepared for my walk in the sun (Raise your hand if you remember that Dane Clark movie) the clear bright 80-degree day had left me parched and fatigued as I dragged my weary butt back to the office and Grandma Kim. “Like a bottle of water?” she asked mercifully. She went on to say that Glenn had not yet returned and she could not be sure when he would. However I could wait in the air conditioned office if I wished. Yes, very much thank you.

Glenn with the 1956 Ford F100 he drove in high school

Finally just as I got up to leave, a bright yellow Kenworth pulling a gleaming stainless steel tanker rumbled into the lot creating a swirling storm of stone dust. I was about to meet Glenn. In his early 60s, hard working, tall, in good shape with a mop of snow white hair spilling out all sides of his blue baseball cap, Glenn welcomed me with an easy neighborly manner. After first attending to his immediate business needs, Glenn said he would find fifteen minutes to spare. It somehow turned into two information rich hours.

Glenn’s grandfather had constructed the first building on this site as a general store and filling station in 1926. Standing totally restored in the corner one now finds the original towering hand crank glass top gas pump from that station.

In a short time our conversation fell into an easy rhythm. Glenn shared a bit of the local history. How his grandfather had started out as a dairy farmer. How his dad remembered that the first day he started milking, September 1, 1939, Hitler invaded Poland. The family dairy remained in operation until 1988. Transporting the milk from the dairy business evolved into the trucking business he runs today. With niceties concluded we got down to business. What about the forest of trucks Glenn?

Glenn sighed, dug deep and began saying, “The whole thing is my daddy’s doing. I and my two brothers inherited it. We never added to it.” For Drivin’ News readers Glenn’s experience closely echoes that of the “Cadillac Sisters” from an earlier Drivin’ News post “When the collection outlives the collector.” Considering the age and condition of so many of the trucks, I found it surprising that Glenn’s father started collecting trucks around 1990. Glenn says, “Some of the first trucks are ones we ran in the old says.” Glenn continues on describing when his dad really dialed up his collecting activity.

Glenn says, “When my dad got in his 60s, about 1990, he originally had a few nice old cars but then he got into the trucks which was more of what he really wanted to do. He was driven by his memory of what was running when he was young.”

With a kind of quiet resignation Glenn describes the perfect storm that fed his father’s passion for accumulating old trucks. Glenn says, “He was obsessed with getting them in here. So he would just go off if he had any free time and look. He would scour Hemmings Motor News or something like that. He would just go out and whatever he found, we would haul it back. It couldn’t be easier, we were in the trucking business. He would find a load going somewhere. Heck, we got some vintage trucks here brought back from Arizona and California.” The problem, so clearly evident today; his father didn’t have enough sheds to store them all inside. Glenn with a wistful smile says, “A lot of them aren’t inside. Fortunately most of the better ones are.”

Furthermore, the thought of keeping them running simply makes Glenn roll his eyes. He says, “We used to have a guy here that would help work on them, but my dad bought so many, no one person could keep this many vehicles running.”

When asked if he has every taken inventory of the collection Glenn says, “When my dad died in 2017, I just wanted to have an idea because we had to settle the estate. I walked this whole place and counted them.” Glenn’s count came to 245. In his desire to get the paperwork in order he says, “We had to get all the titles together. And we have all of them.”  I had to go to DMV three different times because they were just so overwhelmed with all the paperwork.”

When asked what the future holds for his truck forest, Glenn adds the kicker saying that in addition to the trucks, there are the vintage cars he has stored in locked barns elsewhere. Indeed, Glenn takes me down the road to a locked warehouse containing a 1965 Hertz Shelby Mustang, light duty trucks and cars from the 1940s and ‘50s mixed in with more modern vehicles.

Clearly this 800-pound gorilla demands attention. Once again when asked his intentions for disposal of the collection Glenn, exhaling deeply, says, “We’re going to have to get rid of it all at some point. It’s just such a big undertaking that organizing the disposal of the collection and trying to run the company at the same time is really hard to do.” Glenn realistically acknowledges that he does not envision him ever having the energy to do what should be done.” Adding to the conundrum, Glenn confesses he does not have any idea as to the collections value.

Glenn says, “People come by pretty regularly, you know, But it’s so hard. Daddy never said what he paid for anything. So you don’t have a figure in your head as to what you want. And the people interested don’t know either.” Glenn recalls his mother telling him that the first truck the father bought to start the collection, a cab-over Peterbilt, cost as much as their house. Glenn cautions saying, “This was decades ago when houses were much cheaper.” So what to do?

This did not strike me as a collection suiting the style of auction houses like Gooding, RM Sothebys, Bonhams, Mecum or the like. However, one company came to mind that normally operates in the Midwest and displays a high level of comfort in staging rural events with large and varied collections. I suggested to Glenn that Yvette VanDerBrink’s VanDerBrink Auctions might fill the bill.

Interestingly Glenn said he had spoken to Yvette. While not her normal stomping grounds, she had actually come out to see Glenn’s collection during a trip back east to visit family. Glenn says, “She took a good look. My situation is definitely her thing. That’s what she does.” Glenn said he felt she had a real good feel for the challenges the collection presented. Then Covid came to town and they have not spoken since. And so it stands today.

Glenn and his father’s collection deserve to have their day. It just needs the right auction house to save both from being lost in the woods.

Amazingly, country roads exist even within sight of the Empire State Building which towers less than twenty miles from my home in Northern New Jersey. One Sunday, while meandering about with no particular place to go, I stumbled upon a surprisingly bucolic tangle of local wiggle roads. The driving delight they afforded momentarily sparked a gnawing distress at the joy to be lost with the coming age of automated cars. I quickly dismissed the thought opting for feigned ignorance and the associated bliss.

Navigating through a one-lane railroad underpass delivered me to a truly rural time capsule. Before me stood a farm with, what would prove to be, two centuries of history and the resting place for a century old chain-drive Mack truck.

That is how I came to meet Jim Van Houten of  Van Houten Farms in Pearl River, New York.

Hundred-Year old Bulldog, Beloved but doomed?

Van Houten’s 1925 Mack AC

Jim Van Houten’s 1925 Mack AC, while standing tall and proud displays deep scars and brutal decay from the ravages of decades spent untended though not unloved. Certainly no one loves that truck more than Jim. As Jim gazes at the truck he radiates a sense of wistful resignation. An acknowledgement of forces at work and the meaning of dust to dust.

Jim Van Houten with 1925 Mack AC

Jim’s trim physique and forthright demeanor belie his 78-years. While every inch a farmer, Jim arrived at his life’s work on the farm following a few years spent in corporate America. His background includes a B.S. in agriculture and an MBA, both from Cornell.

Jim says, “Today there are only three farms left in this county. Ours is one of them.” However, the pressures to keep his farm alive offer an ever present challenge. Jim says, “While individuals seem to love visiting the local farm, local governments appear incapable of appreciating the farm’s value to a community.” Town bureaucrats frequently seem intent on turning the farm into a prize for some large developer to exploit.

Much of that which Jim holds dear seems under attack, often by what feels like inexorable forces. Maybe that 100-year old truck Jim loves stands as a metaphor for the 200-year old farm that he holds so dear.

Jim possesses a profound appreciation and respect for the farm and the land that holds much family history dating back to 1812. He considers that Mack as a part of that family saga. Its kind certainly represents a vehicle that played an important role in America’s success during the early 20^th century in both peace and war.

The Mack AC resides in the pantheon of important vehicles based on its decades of service as a rugged, reliable and tireless workhorse capable of successfully transporting loads and performing jobs where other trucks failed. It earned legendary respect on the WWI battlefields of Europe where it delivered medical aid, vital supplies and critical replacements despite deep mud, horribly rutted roads and shell-pocked battlefields that barred the efforts of other trucks.

According to the Mack Museum, during World War 1 Mack shipped over 2,000 trucks to Great Britain. The story goes that Mack got its “Bulldog” name from the British soldiers with whom the Mack trucks had earned enormous respect for their ability to do what other trucks could not. When the British troops faced a difficult truck challenge, the cry would be, “Aye, send in the Mack bulldogs.” Mack management loved the name and embraced it. The rest is marketing history. The Mack AC enjoys the respect and love of not just Jim but a global population who it loyally served for over a half-century.

Brought to the market in 1916, the Mack AC a two-wheel drive, two-axle truck had, for then, a husky 4-cylinder gasoline engine delivering 69-horsepower through a three-speed manual transmission. In an age of horses, a rugged vehicle that could dependably carry up to seven and one-half tons on solid rubber tires at speeds approaching 20 mph represented a quantum leap. The Mack AC’s legendary chassis earned its reputation for rugged endurance with a pressed chrome-nickel steel construction heat treated for durability. In the early 20^th century the Mack AC reigned as the big dog. Out of production in the 1930s, Mack ACs could still be seen on the job in the 1950s, even the 1960s.

Jim’s truck began its service under the ownership of a fellow farmer and family friend of his grandfather. Back in the 1930s his grandfather would take the Mack loaded with corn into wholesale farmers markets in New York City much as Jim, today, still brings produce into the Union Square Farmers Market. Silent and still, the old Mack AC witnesses Jim in his 21^st century truck whenever he departs for the city.

At some point in the 1940s the friend had bought property upstate. By the 1950s Jim’s dad began working the land the friend left behind. Jim says, “I remember going to that farm in the 1950s and seeing the Mack sitting in the old barn.”

Some years later in the 1960s Jim’s dad traded an old John Deere Model A tractor for the 1925 Mack AC and all the family history it contained. With quizzical reflection Jim says, “Then we let the Mack sit there unmoved for more years.” Finally in the early 70s Jim with college and his corporate experience behind him returned to run the Van Houten farm. With that, the resurrection of history and the old Mack AC appeared to commence.

At last Jim took charge and brought the Mack over to the Van Houten Farm Nursery and produce retail site. On staff Jim recalls a young employee adept at all things mechanical. Jim set him loose on the truck and recalls saying, “He got the darn thing running. I actually drove it around the neighborhood.” Being late in the season, the truck went behind the farm stand for the winter. Jim recalls saying, “With winter coming the mechanic drained everything.” Jim then winces saying, “At least we thought he did. It did not drain completely.” When spring came a big crack had developed at the bottom of the radiator. Jim says, “I do not believe the engine suffered any damage.”

Sadly, the truck then sat in back for more years. Finally as the 1970s came to a close Jim had the truck towed to the front of the farm stand to serve as a decoration. It has again performed its designated task without complaint for over 40 years. Jim says, “I feel terrible that I’ve just let it sit there and literally just rust away.” Over the years many people have offered to buy the truck. Jim says, “I feel bad that it has not gone to somebody who could restore it. Even today it is still restorable.”

During the interview Jim has reflected more than once saying, “The chronological clock is ticking.” Much of his considerable remaining energy has been focused on literally saving the Van Houten Farm. That said, his deep affection for his Mack AC tugs at his heart. When asked, “In the best of all possible worlds” what would you want to see happen to the truck? Jim says, “I would love to have it restored on site but this is the real world and I do not have the time.” Considering those limitations, the two real choices would seem to be either give it to someone who would restore it or let it slowly return to the earth on the family farm. When asked which fate would he chose for his beloved Mack AC, Jim pauses. Slowly with a resignation born of decency Jim whispers with an exhale, “Give it away.”

It is said, “If you love something let it go.” Love is a beautiful thing. Clearly, Jim hopes the future will see the same said of his then restored Mack AC.

Previously readers became acquainted with classic car restoration virtuoso Mike Gassman through stories he told about others. It would be a disservice to you dear reader if I neglected to share with you Mike’s own story.

Descending once again through Rockfish Gap to the floor of the Shenandoah Valley and Waynesboro, Virginia, I weave through some back roads that hug a railroad siding. In making a right turn away from the tracks a row of low clean white adjoining structures come into view. They feature a spotless showroom recalling the modest (compared to today’s massive highway automotive cathedral) masonry structures with huge window panes typical of mid-20th century family owned dealerships. Eye candy for any passerby, the showroom features a tightly organized array of pristine restored 50’s and 60s vintage British sports cars. Their meticulous curation offers a hint of the passion for perfection that drives the robust beating heart of Mike Gassman’s restoration business, Gassman Automotive.

The story begins on a mountain top in Afton Virginia.

Read the car, not the book and other words of wisdom that pave a path to Pebble Beach

She opened her front door wearing a wedding dress. It is 1977. High atop Afton Mountain in Western Virginia a woman Mike recalls as Martha stands smiling down from the open doorway. Her wedding day preparation had been interrupted by a knock at the door. A boy of maybe thirteen years had come to inquire about a forlorn 1969 Triumph TR6 moldering out in the field by Martha’s house. Featuring a rose bush violating a structural integrity that could not cast a decent shadow, the TR6 could best be described as a heap. With his father visible in a car waiting on the country road, the boy asked if she wanted to sell it. “Yes I do,” responded the bride-to-be with a kind forthright demeanor exhibited by adults suddenly aware of their role in a teaching moment. “How much do you want?” the boy asked. “How much do you have?” asked Martha. “Forty five dollars,” offered the boy with the air of a question. “That is perfect. That is exactly what I want for it,” responded Martha and in so doing gave the young boy a wedding day gift that would continue to give for the rest of his life. Martha had sold thirteen year-old Mike Gassman his first car. Watching from the road, Mike’s dad witnessed a plan he had set in motion taking shape.

Mike says, “My 13th birthday present from my dad was a copy of a contract. And it stated, I Mike Gassman for the next two years, will devote every night and every weekend to restoring a car that I pay for and on which I do all the work. In return, my dad will stand next to me for two years and teach me how to restore a car. He will never physically touch it with his fingers, but he will teach me.” In looking back Mike calls it the most invaluable, the most incredible gift any young man could ever receive. Mike eagerly signed it. All of which quickly led to Mike knocking on Martha’s front door. In short order a tow truck dragged the “heap” to Mike’s house and the “fun” began.

With Mike’s dad conducting a comprehensive “hands off” restoration education, Mike dove in and never looked back. Mike says, “My dad showed me how to do a block and tackle. I pulled the body off the car. I sandblasted it. You could throw a rock through this car. It was so rusted. I made all the panels. I brazed them all in. I did all the bodywork and I painted the car one piece at a time over the next two years.” Mike’s dad had exceptional restoration skills and taught his son old school lessons about laying down lacquer paint. He went so far as to teach Mike leading techniques. Mike says, “His many years working with toxic lead is probably one of the reasons he is not here today.”

Mike finished the car at the age of 15 years and 7 months. He says, “In Virginia you had to be 15 years and 8 months old to get a learner’s permit.” Mike would sit in his TR6 for a month waiting for that day.

Mike Gassman and his 45-year old restoration of Martha’s “heap.”

Mike says, “I did every single aspect of that car between the ages of 13 and 15.” Standing in his showroom, now, Mike concludes by turning my attention to a pristine light beige TR6. Mike continues, “And here it is 45-years later. Unrestored since I finished it.”

Mike says, “It was my only car in college. It probably has 25,000 miles on it.” It retains the same paint he applied 45-years ago. With deserved pride Mike says, “It has taken multiple first place trophies.”

Over his 40-plus years in auto restoration Mike has developed a philosophy that informs all the automotive work he performs. Mike says, “I am as passionate about this work now as I ever was if not more so. I love this stuff. It is not just iron.” He believes that the culture and character defining the subjects of his passion will never happen again. For him, the 60s and early 70s stands as the greatest time for cars ever. He freely admits one could spend $500,000 on restoring a TR6 and it still would not be as quick as a new Nissan Sentra. Mike says, “That’s not the point. With my cars when you walk out of a Walmart you don’t have to figure out which one is yours.” He believes that anybody can buy a Miata that can outperform these half century old sports cars. However, Mike says, “Sadly, the new cars have no soul.”

Mike welcomes customers that want perfection. He builds to the desires of individuals that always wanted a certain car and finally have achieved a point where they can afford the best one. Mike says, “I have nothing here that anybody needs, nothing. What I strive to offer is a whole lot of what people want.”

Mike, and his experienced and gifted Gassman Automotive crew, over many years, have honed the ability to perform a superior restoration for those looking for the best. As well, he takes pride in focusing those same abilities on servicing customer cars ranging from bug-eye Sprites to Maseratis.

One man who has had a significant impact on shaping Mike’s philosophy would be Paul Russell. Internationally respected as a master restorer Paul presides over one of the world’s most respected restoration shops. Mike greatly admires Paul for the superior work, professionalism and generosity he has experienced in dealing with the man and the staff of Paul’s globally revered Paul Russell and Company. Mike says, “While Gassman Automotive was performing a total restoration on the first 1952 Ferrari 212 Inter Geneva Coupe by Vignale, Paul was restoring the sister car at the same time. It afforded me a priceless opportunity to share information with a master.” Two things that Paul told Mike made a profound impression.

Paul emphasized that in properly dealing with an important automobile restoration “read the car, not the book.” What did he mean by this? Mike says, “To me it meant, if there’s a hole in a fender, is it jagged. Did somebody drill it. If it was stamped, why do you think it was there? What would make sense? Why would you put a hole there? Ask, are there any other cars that have a hole there before you weld it shut? That was incredibly valuable advice, especially when doing a prototype like the 212, one of only six examples. Finding a hole could lead you down a road of inquiry searching for answers to why is it there and what’s missing? That was very helpful.”

Secondly, and what Mike considers the most valuable advice came when Paul shared the following as recalled by Mike, “Pretend that whatever you are working on whether it is a wiper motor or a complex quarter panel, it should be treated like it is the only thing you are taking to Pebble Beach where it will be presented on a mirrored table to represent the sum of your abilities.” Mike says, “If you take that advice to heart you have no choice but to build a 100-point car but without that mindset it is impossible to build a 100-point car.” Which raises the question, how did Mike get into the concours winning restoration business?

With a wife and two young children, the year 1990 found Mike working to make ends meet selling cars for a Nissan Subaru dealer during the day and working on Triumphs at his house from 9:00 at night until 2:00 in the morning. Mike says, “The new car market had fallen apart. I was getting paid $50 for every car I could sell. With this 24/7 grind I had reached my limit.”

So Mike took the little bit of money that they had saved and bought the first building, all 1500 square feet of it. He was all in. Over the next decade he developed a restoration shop focused primarily on British sports cars. Gassman Automotive differentiated and distinguished itself with its rare ability to perform everything in-house. Mike says, “We do all of our own motors, transmissions, overdrives, wiring, body fabrication, paintwork, upholstery and assembly. As well, Mike in prior years had exhibited great foresight that would prove to serve him well.

Through the 1980’s, with Triumph and MG going belly up, Mike bought out the NOS parts inventory of many shuttering British car dealerships. At the same time he aggressively prowled the swap meets at Carlisle, Hershey and any other event offering the possibility of NOS parts. Mike says, “Over the years I have made hundreds of trips bringing back trailer loads of NOS British car parts.”

Focused with his determination to be a go-to place for those seeking superior quality, Gassman Automotive started to get noticed. People realized Mike and his shop meant business. Attention came their way even as they restored lower-end cars at first. Gassman Automotive became recognized for producing the high-end restorations of cars such as TR6s and MGBs. They gained a recognition for quality panel beating and their dexterity with aluminum.

Ferrari in early stages of restoration

Interestingly at that point while Jaguar and Healey restoration work seemed a step above his client base, the quality of the work coming out of his shop stood at a Ferrari level. It was just a matter of time.

It occurred when a client sent Mike a TR250 for a full restoration. At the same time the TR250 owner sent another of his Triumphs which had been subjected to a very expensive restoration by another restorer to the National show. At the event the Triumph restored by the other shop received a sound beating at the hands of a participating car that Mike had restored. Learning his lesson the client sent his losing car back to Mike to “fix it.” Mike says, “We did our job to our standard and sent it back. He took it to the Nationals and won first place as well as a Vintage Triumph Register National “Best of Show.” A few years later in around 2010 the same client returned with a new project that would be the breakout opportunity for Mike and Gassman Automotive.

The client had purchased a 1952 Ferrari, the first of six prototype 212 Inter Geneva Coupes by Vignale and wanted Mike to restore it. Mike says, “I flew to Indiana to look at it. I’ll admit it was extremely intimidating to me. So many pieces were missing or broken. Worse there was never a spare part made for that car. Everything would have to be handmade. Of course, I said yes.” It would be Mike’s first “right at a million dollar” restoration. After two years the finished Ferrari went to Cavallino where it received a Platinum Award. It then went to Pebble Beach followed by a trip to Arizona for the 2014 Gooding Auction in Scottsdale.

Mike, pointing out for those that do not appreciate the significance of an invitation to Pebble Beach, says, “Even the “worst” car at Pebble beach rates as an incredible automobile. There are no “also-rans.”

The Gooding catalogue promoting the 2014 auction described the Gassman Automotive restored Ferrari 212 as follows:

• A Spectacular Example of Italian Custom Coachwork
• The First of Six Such Vignale- Bodied Coupes
• Displayed at the 1954 San Remo Concours d’Elegance
• Fascinating, Well-Documented Provenance
• Exquisite Restoration to Original Appearance
• Retains Original, Matching-Numbers Engine
• FCA Platinum Award Winner at the 2013 Cavallino Classic
• Displayed at the 2013 Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance

Mike says, “At the time it set a world’s record for that car by selling for a total of $1,787,500.”

The masterful craftsmanship that distinguished that rare Vignale-bodied Coupe put Mike and Gassman Automotive of little Waynesboro, Virginia on the international map of people with whom you could trust your Pebble Beach worthy car’s restoration.

Mike says he hopes Martha would be pleased.