The Type 35s were extremely successful, winning over 1000 races in their day. Not surprisingly, the subject of my writings often pertained to race cars-with a strong preference for the Type 35 Bugatti machines. My soul-stirring ride in the Bugatti became the standard by which I judged all sports cars nothing of more recent vintage has even come close to the visceral excitement of that Type 57 Bugatti.Īs a student In Berkeley High School, I participated in creative writing classes. Incorporating the mechanical genius– skeptics might say quirkiness- of the previous Bugatti race cars, the Type 57 added hauntingly beautiful styling to create the world’s first supercar. The Type 57 was a new design created by Jean Bugatti, son of founder, Ettore. “The mailed fist hidden in a velvet glove” A Type 57 Bugatti at a Watkins Glen Concours d’Elegance c.1951-52. Once past the Berkeley city limits, he put his foot down and the Bugatti came into its own: the mailed fist hidden in a velvet glove. We drove out The Arlington and meandered through the Berkeley Hills until we reached Tilden Park. Kerrigan showed up with an elegant Type 57SC Bugatti and, after delivering his wife to her parents, offered to take me for a ride. Purdy was an unabashed Bugatti enthusiast and he could write!Īlthough I could recite many of Purdy’s anecdotes from memory and tended to prattle on about Bugatti nomenclature, I had never actually seen nor heard a Bugatti in person I could talk a good Bugatti, but that was about it.ĭoctor George Kerrigan, a Bay Area orthodontist and noted automobile collector, often drove over the hills from his Orinda home, accompanied by his wife, to visit her parents, who lived next door to us in Berkeley. Ken Purdy’s eclectic book, Kings of the Road, became my favorite source of information. This event whetted my appetite and I was eager to learn more. My initial exposure to exotic European automobiles had taken place the previous year at the sports car races in Golden Gate Park, which were held in late May 1952. I was about fifteen years old at the time of that ride.
Such was my introduction to the inner sanctum of the Bugatti mystique. The tree-lined scenery flashes by faster and still faster. The snug interior of the coupe cabin fills with the incredible sound of the 8-cylinder Bugatti engine at peak revs as the siren-like scream of the supercharger adds its surreal note. The view through the windshield is stunning: a long tapering hood framed by delicately arched fenders. Imagine yourself a passenger in a Type 57SC Bugatti Atalante.
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