It was one of those days when time feels both longer and shorter than it really is. Longer, because your mind cannot comprehend the surge of information flooding it. Shorter, as it seemed to only last for a blink of an eye. This indulgent blurring of the constraints of reality starts to bleed into every aspect of the experience, from the sweet sounding band to the quality and diversity of the people in attendance, to the endless conveyor belt of dream cars coming and going.
When you cover such a sensorially charged event, it’s easy to be overwhelmed. You get trapped into a shooting frenzy, eager to document each and every car in attendance. I decided to fight this with a fresh attitude. I was going to dream it as I live it.
The sharp slants of the Diablo led me to the delicate silhouette of the Flaminia and then into the intoxicating embrace of the grey Giulietta Spider. The spaces between between the parked cars became glorious avenues in a citadel dedicated to the Italian greats. Some old, some very new, some of them very expensive, others a little less so, but all very, very valuable.
Two red bonnets grinned their Busso at us, the rhythm of their polished intakes perfectly matched by the intricate switches on the dash of the Dino. The sweeps of the Ferrari fenders were echoed by the flanks of the 4C. Pointy headlights on the Fiat Spider were met with the nuanced answer from the Fulvia Zagato. And this went on, an on, and on…
Two Ferraris framed a red GTV to perfection, seemingly laying swooshes of red and yellow at its feet. Behind it, the historic rusty hangar. Sharp yellow tones seemed everywhere at one moment, then, all of a sudden, they turned into shades of bronze, with an angry shining Grifo guarding its den.
Speaking of bronze, there was this outlaw GTV, wearing its black bumpers and its Momo wheels with immense confidence. It’s not everyday that you see a fresh take on the GTV, one that opens new avenues to the car, that makes you look at it in a different light. This one certainly achieved that.
Before the cars got a chance to scatter, we made a dash to the adjacent roads, hoping to catch some of the beasts in their natural habitat. We were rewarded with unforgettable sights and sounds, not to mention a few waves.
And then, to our shock, it was over. A few intense hours of car culture. Our hosts were smiling at our faces filled with disbelief. They must have seen that look before. It’s surprising to realise that this was the very first Italian Cars and Coffee hosted by The Classic Motor Hub. It somehow felt like it was always destined to happen.