Old sports cars are cool. Compared with most modern fast things they seem impossibly tiny, slim-pillared and delicate. They say volumes more about your character than any casually bought modern lump, have an air of romance and style that cares little for servo assistance, pedestrian safety, crash structures, airbags or death in general. They are rebellious, a little dangerous, gorgeously arrogant. Unfortunately, they are also, generally, lightly terrible. Noisy. Comparatively slow. They wander, fail to stop properly, fail to go properly and will terminally and completely fail at random intervals, just to remind you how romantic they can be. Old sports cars therefore must be used under the caveat that they are cool when they work.
Words: Tom Ford // Photos: Mark Riccioni