Images Via Life Archive/Conceptcarz/Supercars.net.

Italian neorealist film director Roberto Rossellini had a bit of taste.

Not only was he one of the definitive auteurs of post war European cinema, he also commissioned this gobsmakingly beautiful car. You can see by the cut of his suit that the man had style. But getting on the phone and getting Sr. Scaglietti to rebody your Ferrari?

That’s what we call panache.

The story goes that the car the great director owned was originally a red 375 Pininfarina Spyder but was rebodied as a Coupé by Scaglietti and painted silver.

And you can see how the Coupé format works perfectly for those Northern European winters (Rossellini spent a lot of time in Paris). Notice those wonderfully scalped flanks similar to those on the 250TR, the pinched rear end that was such an inspiration for the E-Type, and of course that wonderfully long, elegently scooped nose.

Whoever restred this beauty showed real attention to detail, as you can see from the beautifully rendered interior. And though you’d have to sell a small family’s worth of kidneys to afford even those wire wheels, there’s something of that spartan, post WW2 Italian aesthetic that’s reflected in its incredible presence.

The perfect car for the perfect creator. We’re in love.

Stumbled across an amazing collection of original Motorsports slides today for sale on eBay.

It really brings to mind the glorious beauty of film and transparency photography.

We here at Influx towers are of course obvious revelers in the joys of digital photography. We have utilised the full quiver of readymade tools that have been developed to saturate your pics with that old school, retro feel.

Seeing these slides, though, you can really feel how our user-friendly digital retrospectives can’t yet match the lovely feel of the real thing.

Not sure exactly who the subjects are and exactly which motorsports seasons we’re looking at here: perhaps you can help?

A few years ago we had the pleasure of meeting legendary Jaguar development engineer Norman Dewis. This is the man responsible for the shakedown of many of the most incredible British cars ever made — and some of the out and out most beautiful and successful production cars and racers ever to grace a piece of tarmac.

You can read about our encounter with Norman and the then new Jaguar XF in issue 5 of our print mag here.

For some reason, we never saw this beautiful little Dunhill-produced video last year at the time of the Jaguar XC75’s release. Take a look. it gives a really great insight into the process of Jaguar design, and Norman Dewis and Ian Callum’s collaboration in that process.

What makes car designs that last and become classics is that sort of continuity between form, function, belief and ethos.

We reckon Jaguar’s renaissance of late owes a lot to this. Enjoy and celebrate something that makes us proud to be British!

Cue Elgar.

Down tools for ten minutes and enjoy with us this informative and entertaining video of Sir Stirling Moss threading a beautiful little Cooper around Donington Park. The car is similar to the one in which Sir Stirling won the 1958 Argentine Grand Prix — and also the one in which Jack Brabham won the 1959 World Driver’s Championship.

We can’t be sure exactly which designation is the car in the video, a T45 or a T51 — but pedantry aside we think you’ll agree it’s a very lovely piece of machinery.

This is the sort of lightweight, rear-engined car that ushered in an area of Empire dominance and loosened Ferrari, Mercedes and Masterati’s stranglehold on the sport.

Despite its lack of torsional rigidity and safety features it still managed to top 160 on a long straight, and achieved amazing performance for such a small car.

Little wonder the guys, like Stirling, who raced these machines were made of rakish, swashbuckling stuff.

The Dauphine was of course one of the pioneering small, economic continental cars that steered the world away from two ton gas guzzlers at the end of the fifties.

It was a cute, compact issue designed inhouse by Renault with assists from carrozeria Ghia.

You can see the moddish elements of the three box design, whose Euro motifs where decidedly other than the American chrome clad giants that were being designed at the time, and with whome the Dauphine would attempt to do battle.

Check out this interesting ad for the little Frenchie from North America — its interesting to see how, as far back as fifty years ago, urban utility and fuel economy were becoming a marketing element. America might have been booming, but they also wanted to keep an early eye on the pennies.

We’re not sure how successful the car proved to be in the states, but it would have cut an alternative dash on the streets of Manhattan, as it would do today.

These little cars, with their rear mounted engine and rear ‘swing axle’ would have been a quirky little handler too — a lot more fun to chuck around than your average Buick at the time.

Click here to view the embedded video.

We were amazed this morning when we stumbled across this amazingly well conceived little piece of kit on the Aether blog.

We had never heard of a collapsible motorbike that could be dropped into action behind enemy lines before. The lightweight issue (which is more or less a proto–Monkeybike) was designed by the British Inter Services Research Bureau, which was based in Welwyn, apparently, to give paratroopers increased range and manouverability behind enemy lines.

Naturally the bike had to be stripped down to the bare essentials in order to fit inside the standard drop container and so came with a single rear brake, no suspension or lamps. The fuel tank had to be pressurised by a hand pump, apparently, but gave a pretty decent 90 mile range at 30 mph.

According to various sources, though, the bike turned out to be a bit of a liability in action. Because of the weight of them the bikes would usually land a long way away from the troops who were supposed to ride them, and the soldiers would have to fight their back to it.

Once it was found, the bikes had to be assembled under enemy fire and were more or less useless offroad because of their lack of low-end twist.

When load-baring gliders were introduced to airborne forces toward the end of the war the Welbike was phased out in favour of heavier ‘proper’ bikes like the Royal Enfield WD/RE.

A great idea, but, we think, not quite the full, Churchillian cigar.

still photography: Gary Margerum

You may have seen The Wall of Death travelling the festy byways of Britain these last couple of years.

Our friend, photographer and vintage bike culture fancier Gary Margerum has spent the last couple of years documenting the lifestyle of the creators, collaborators and showpeople of the roots and culture carny show that evokes a curious sort of displaced nostalgia for anyone interested in bikes and derring do.

There’s a book from Gary on the way in which he documents a year in the life of the show — boards, bikes and all — and we look forward to that. Benedict Campbell’s film (below) brings out, meanwhile, the all-encompassing lifestyle that is the creation of such a spectacle.

What we like about the whole idea of the Wall of Death is the refreshingly committed attitude of a band of men and women who dedicate their lives to riding very old bikes at ridiculous angles for the public’s wonder and delectation.

It’s a little slice of folk heroism from the margins. Enjoy.

THE WALL OF DEATH from benedict campbell on Vimeo.

Photography: Influx/Magneto

“I couldn’t afford a Mustang”, says 26-year-old Capri owner Pete Wallwork from Truro, Cornwall. I had asked the bike mechanic, BMX rider, barber and photographer the obvious question. Why would a young gun be attracted to a Dagenham bred pastiche of American Muscle from the eighties?

“I am actually really into American muscle cars, but there’s something unique about the Capri that is just as interesting, for me at least. There’s nothing like it in terms of British cars. There’s something about its shape, it’s attitude that just appeals to me.”

For a young man, Pete has surprising experience of the hero of stylish blue-collar motoring. “I bought my first Capri for £200 when I was 17. It was a 2.0 litre S and it was just rotting in someone’s front garden so I took it off his hands.” Like many young lovers of old cars, the lust for a particular flavour of steel and grease came through the family thread. “My granddad always had Fords, and was always tinkering away with bits and pieces in his yard. So it’s not surprising that I would go for something like a Capri in the end.”

Pet’s current ride, a 1986 Mk 3, has its own character in itself. Its various modifications and stylistic tweaks produce a suitably badass aspect. “ I’ve never had so many people turn their heads and take notice. When I drive through town we get a lot of attention.“

The exhaust note probably has something to do with it. “The engine is actually a ‘Pinto’ two-litre bored out to 2.1. It’s got twin 45 Webers and an upgraded ‘beast’ exhaust, too.” The result of these wholly appropriate modifications is a car that sounds properly strong and heavy, rather than all mouth-no trousers bark.

“She drives really nicely, with the combination of the engine and the rear axle from a 2.8i”. So what you see is genuine rarity in the big picture of British motoring. A mini GT that feels as if it’s meant to be driven over long distances, with real enthusiasm.

And the styling of this car reflects the visceral nature of its guts. Flared arches, clean black paintjob and slot mags complete the picture perfectly. “The car was actually originally a laser in white,”, Pete goes on, “ it came with the RS x-pack, factory produced fibreglass arches. They wed to the steel beautifully.” That grille is from an earlier version of the car too,. Pete thinks it’s from a late MK1, but can’t be sure. Opinions anyone?

But whatever the hotch-potch of the car’s elements, it retains its pure bred DNA, that of a aspirational hang-dog, an Essex reared mongrel that pops its collar and never hides its light beneath a bushel. And that’s why we like Pete’s Capri.

Audi make great cars. Audi make some superb cars. We had a go in a particularly cool RS5 Coupé the other day and it was a winner in every way It looked great, drove spectacularly — but there was something missing, and it got us thinking.

It always surprises me that Audi haven’t bought out an unashamed retro model, unless of course you count the TT. Perhaps retro is the wrong word. Perhaps we mean something simple, something not pushed forward by technology, but by something approximating ‘levity’.

Because of all the current manufacturing companies out there who are making successful cars, they potentially have one of the richest design heritages on which they might draw.

There are many good reasons for the convergence of good design, both across the car universe and within brands themselves. The argument goes within successful ateliers: why break winning formulae and risk alienating hard won loyalists with creative indulgence?

It might be understandable, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. The truth is that the consequences of replicating successful design are streets awash with dully familiar shapes, rakes clusters and textures.

We’re extra fond of Audi’s middle period. We love the cold war feel to their boxy designs. We love the way that they assume nothing but provide unexpected delight Now that even the once quirky, groundbreaking TT seems to be wrought from the same style sheet as everything else Audi currently build, we’re hankering for something game-changing.

But that might be just us.

We thought we’d share some nice images of older Audis, as we as our twisted opinions…

Last summer at the Silverstone Classic we were lucky enough to get up close and personal with a race prepped 250 LM. It was, predictably, an erotic experience we won’t quickly forget.

But when we stumbled across this SS version we were blown away and had to share.

The rear three quarter profile brings out the heartbreaking lines, set off by that Scuderia style strip, the wire wheels and the dashingly gauche interior. But this thing would be as agressively dynamic as it is pretty.

The 250 LM made its official debut at the 1963 Paris Motorshow. The racing evolution of the hugely successful 250 series used a bored out 3.3 litre version of the GTO derived engine.

The homologation authorities at the time didn’t believe that Ferrari would be able to produce the required 100 cars for homologation, so the 250 LM was only eligible to race in the prototype class.

And the little racer did very well indeed. In fact in 1964 ten victories were scored out of 35 entries and no less than five 250 LMs were entered in the 1965 24 Hours of Le Mans by privateers.

Almost too pretty for words, we’re sure you’ll agree and as immaculate as any car you’ll be lucky enough to encounter, anywhere.