Here you go, Ted.

96’s, snow and racing. What more could you want?

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  1. Oh wow- this is great.

    In fact this video is the bogs dollocks…

    thanks swade for finding it, it made my day- especially the African bits.

  2. Good video. I’ll have to admit that I’ve always been fond of Lancias. *sigh* They aren’t available here in the US anymore due to our safety and emissions regulations.

  3. Swade:
    I don’t know if I’m the Ted that you’re addressing, but in any case, thanks! It doesn’t get any sweeter or finer than that. I yearn for those days again, and wish that I could, if just for a day, go back in time to experience that in person.

    My only racing was as a racer-wantabe on the back roads of Ohio. Let me tell you of one experience that explains why I love the old stroker so much. I used to run a winding, wooded, 2-lane road, late at night, flat out at 85 mph (I was young and immature). One evening, after not having been that route for awhile, I was doing my usual 85 coming out of a right hand bend toward a small bridge over a creek. As I came out of the bend, I noticed dirt and huge chuckholes instead of asphalt. My first thought was “No problem, I’ll navigate these easily.” Them, however, I noticed what appeared to be a 6 foot high wall dead ahead, approaching at 85 mph of course. (They had removed the old bridge due to frequent flooding and installed a new one, 6 feet higher, with temporary 30 degree incline ramps I’d guess.) No time to brake or anything, except plant my arms on the steering wheel with all my strength. Wham! I see the Saab logo on the steering wheel horn button right in front of my nose–the seat belts have saved me from contact. Then my head snaps back, and the headliner is right in front of my nose, as the seatbelts restrain me again. I pull my head back down to straight upright to a strange, dark silence. The headlights are on, but not illuminating anything, and it is dead silent. I look out the left window to see the new bridge (maybe 30 to 40 feet long, and six feet higher than the old bridge) passing underneath. The new stainless steel handrails appear to be about 8 feet below me, fading into the distance behind me as I look again out the front windshield. Now the headlights are illuminating something, the highway on the other side of the bridge as the Saab turns nose down. I think to myself: “So this is how I’ll die, in a plane crash” as the road approaches rapidly, like in an old movie showing the ground approaching just before impact. I go through the same bodily gyrations on impact again and, as I settle, I’m in shock to find the car still on the road, at about 45 mph, but steering a little funny. Upon arrival home, I examined the car to find the upper wishbone bolts had apparently stretched, allowing the alignment shims to drop onto the floorpan. I put them back in, had the alignment checked, and it was spot on. Beautiful! The belly of the car had impacted the road, scraping undercoating off the whole length of the car, and the shock absorber mounting studs had been re-oriented into a vertical, rather than a horizontal position. The muffler had been smashed half flat, but the car ran fine. I can’t imagine any other car surviving that. I really love those old strokers!

  4. Ted,

    indeed it was for you. I knew you’d enjoy it.

    Thanks for the story too. Sensational stuff. I think everyone’s got a tale from one time when they had a little too much steam in their strides. Yours is a great one.

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