Growing up in small Ohio town, Ferraris were something seen only on
the pages of our precious Car and Driver magazines. In spite of the proximity
of Detroit, I dreamed of owning one of these magnificent Italians someday.
In 1967, when I went off to the Army, my plan was to save enough money
so that when I got out in three years, I could realize my dream. Of the
857 cars created that year there were two models that I loved, the 330GT
and the 275 GTB. I saw the 330GT as a direct visual descendent of all the
wonderful cars that came before it, the 275 GTB a radically new but, never
the less striking design.
Tradition deeply mattered, and to my eye, the 330 just looked more
like a Ferrari. But, as a 20 year old second lieutenant, every dollar was
scarce (we made about $400 a month). The 330GT then cost more than $1000
above the 275GTB, so I resigned my self to the "lesser model" the 275GTB.
Well, my cost of living as a single Army officer was more than I imagined,
and quickly even the 275 was beyond my financial reach. I settled for an
MGB, and several transmissions and engines, causalities of the racing circuit.
Given that most of us were soon to the war, the racing while inelegant,
was with abandon, red lines irrelevant. Years passed after the Army with
houses, children and the rest, but my love of these cars remained. In the
fall of 1993 I visited a West Coast dealer with both a 330GT and
a 275GTB on the floor. Then as now, I went first to the 330. Then and there
I decided I would wait no more.
I began my search for the right car. My boyhood pal, Ned Lawler warned
me enjoying a Ferrari is like cooking a great meal, its 90% shopping for
the right ingredients, 10% preparation. Whenever availability of car coincided
with an opening in my calendar enabling me to travel to see it (too infrequently,
causing many good ones to sell without me) I went, seeing about two dozen
cars, ruling each out for the right reasons. By 2002 I was getting
frustrated. I overcame my embarrassment, and placed a wanted ad in the
Ferrari Market Letter. About a month later a total stranger, Buddy Obara
called and described a 330GT in Indianapolis which was about to go on the
market, a car he had wanted but was out bid for several years earlier.
Buddy said he too had looked for years, this was "the car, see it, and
buy it". I thought what the heck, another wild goose chase, but Buddy he
made quite an impression. I went, and even on first sight it I was taken.
I did my own inspection of the car, taking about 2 hours, covering every
inch on, in and under.
The car had been fully restored in the go go years when they were fetching $225,000 and more. Failing to sell after the bubble burst, it had been driven less than 3000 miles in 11 years. Most important, all the "bits" were there, the boots on the license plate and back up lights, the aluminum lacing straps holding the AC hoses in pairs and more and more. I bought it on the spot and had her shipped to Washington. For once what sounded too good to be true was not. At home the first thing I noticed is how many very young kids loved the car, in the Saturday grocery store lot it always drew several 10 - 15 year old kids who wanted to see under the hood. Even my 14 year old thought I had something cool.
For me the joy is in every additional mile. These cars run better with every mile. Oil consumption went to near zero, and the power went up after rebreaking it in with 1000 miles that first year. Best of all my dream so dear in 1967, is made real early every fair weather Saturday and Sunday on the twisty roads in and around Washington.