Museo Stradale

Dominic's Auto Museum
One man's passionate quest to survey finest motorcars in the world

Photographed: Saint Michael's Concours d'Elegance, 2008. Owner: Oscar Davis

Setting the Record Straight: Sooner or later we need to realize that automotive gibberish is often needlessly equitable. I've harped about this before, but wonderful old machines are often classified quite loosely as "one of this" or "one of that." Back in the day—before my time—motoring historians were far less generous. There was an ethic of perspective that trumped mere enthusiasm, maybe even in a snotty kind of way, and while some level of erudite presumption might have tainted the likes of Automobile Quarterly, you could at least open the pages and read that a Duesenberg was great, and every thing else much less so. Writers had a duty to place cars in very specific context, but this has given way to generalities and tired comparisons.

So in the spirit of perspective, we should probably keep Duesenberg at the top of the list for luxury-performance cars of the classic era. As to the question of proper sports cars or, more generally, small cars, there are two contemporaries of prime note: The Alfa 8C 2900 and the Bugatti Type 57. Major reasons for favoring the 8C 2900 and Type 57 have to do with how they developed the concept of the small capacity high-performance motor, a bit contrary to the near 7-litre capacity of the Duesenberg, even if all three occupy that rare eschelon of early dual overhead-cam road cars. The Alfa ran 220 brake horsepower in domestic guise, and better than that in competition trim, all from 2.9 litres. The Type 57 ran similar figures in the neighborhood of 210 brake horsepower with a slightly larger displacement of about 3.3 litres. Comparatively, Delahaye was far down on power, lacking forced induction and running an overhead-valve head—the 135 MS could make up some ground on reliability, but couldn't expect to produce much beyond the 150 brake horsepower mark from its 3.5 litres.

The Talbot-Lago T-150 C SS was better endowed with a 4 litre motor—again, no forced induction and an interesting overhead-valve setup that somewhat presaged the BMW 328's cross con-rod system—and could hammer out around 200 brake horsepower. This package would give Lago's post-War competition cars some credibility, including nearly winning Le Mans outright in 1952. It was capacity and grunt, however, and not nearly so sophisticated as either the Alfa of Bugatti. Case in point: When you look at the peak power output of the Delahaye and Talbot-Lago motors, the crest is around 4,000 rpm. A Bugatti Type 57 gave max power well beyond the 5,000 rpm mark, and the 8C Alfa closer to 6,000. Both the Bugatti and the Alfa Romeo are blueprints for present-day cars, and those who've listened to them perform at speed (in particular the Alfa) might find the sound anachronistic to the appearance.

On modern car theory, it's important to note that the 8C Alfa was a bit further ahead of the Bugatti in chassis and suspension design. Due in part to the elder Bugatti's sense of tradition, the basic underpinnings of a Bugatti changed slowly over the decades. Alfa was much more the industrialist concern, however, and more apt to let their designer's pen dictate specification. Where the elder Bugatti insisted on his firm's traditional beam axle in the front of the Type 57, Alfa switched over to an independent coil spring suspension. In the back, the Bugatti used a live axle—not to be disparaged as many remarkable post-War sports cars did the same—although Alfa again implemented an independent setup. Better still, the 8C 2900 features a transaxle gearbox for optimal weight distribution, very sophisticated for the 1930s, and still an exclusive feature today. And while Jean Bugatti was happy to have finally planted his wheels surbaissé, Alfa Romeo was on the leading edge of aerodynamic body work and tubular frame design. In this league, one must look to the Germans and BMW's amazing little 328, or to Vincenzo Lancia whose monocoque chassis, independent suspensions, and V-configuration motors were all the vanguard of automotive development.

Coming back around to the United States, lets trace the high-performance motor to Harry Miller, whose innovation in dual overhead-cam technology, forced induction, and high-compression performance was unparalleled. Miller was inspired by the early French Grand Prix cars from Renault and Peugeot, and in turn sparked quite a technical streak in Bugatti. So, that said, much of what we're talking about relative to Bugatti and Alfa Romeo hinges on Miller's contributions in the early part of the twentieth century. Likewise, the Duesenberg brothers accomplished similar feats of excellence. Anything the SJ gives to the Alfa in chassis design it makes up for in its own pioneering advances in engine design, technical innovation in the electrical systems and luxury features, and an exacting build quality that makes all of it run somewhat indefinitely as long as it's decently maintained.

Of course, they are very different in purpose and execution, the SJ and the 8C Alfa, which makes it easier to keep the SJ out there on its lone pedestal of supremacy, and crown the 8C 2900 as the top pre-War sports car. (Whether you'd want the BMW 328 muddling this up is another story.) As for the challengers, past the Bugatti Type 57 you quickly run out of big-time competition. The Mercedes-Benz SSKL was a car of the previous decade, and nothing road-going from the German concern was even remotely close. You'll certainly read some comparisons of the 540-K Special Roadster to the 8C Alfa, but this is like comparing a retired athlete to an Olympic sprinter. By the end of the classic era, the 540-K was old technology, and as I've pointed out performed with no greater spirit than the 680-S of ten years earlier. Neither was it intended to be a barn-stormer, falling instead into the category of brisk sports touring cars, rather like the short chassis Packard 1106 Sport Roadster.

And that is the full squid, tentacles and all, on the debate between the most popular sports cars of the decade and, in a nutshell, explains why the 8C 2900 is at the top. Again, this assessment has nothing to do with aesthetics—we can all favor whichever we chose—but considers that hellishly snobbity sense of perspective we were talking about earlier. It's a pain, but worth sussing out.

The Oscar Davis Car: Now tucked away in a small New Jersey hamlet, this particular 2900-B is perhaps more understated than most. Deep paint with matching wheels downplays the elegant curves of the body, while the gently bending trim is rather simple compared to the two-tone Bugatti sweeps or French Curve motifs seen on the contemporary Delahaye 135. However, up close, the patina is gorgeous. This is not a meticulously restored car with glass-mirror finish, but a nice as-is example, albeit with a very high level of care evident. For as much as the car is put up in a serious collection, it is refreshing to see the time-capsule state of preservation it espouses. This I admit is difficult to note in my photographs—again, the light was no good—but perhaps some future rendezvous will allow me the opportunity to bring that aspect to the fore.

At some point I have also picked up on a notion that this pretty, yet reserved Spyder is one of the rare 2900-B cars fitted with a more aggressive head from the 2900-A. Since I haven't been able to confirm as much, I only tentatively add this qualification to the feature title, (but would love to know for sure one way or the other). There could also be some modest racing history involved; that, too, would be good to hear about. Please drop me a line if any information is handy.

Sources

This piece remains largely editorial, largely due to the troves of reverence already available in print and electronic media.

 

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