What’s it like to drive Gianni Agnelli’s priceless Ferrari 166?

In the world of historic cars, and Ferraris in particular, two things tend to dictate a vehicle’s value. The first is its rarity, and the smaller the number produced, the better. According to the experts, 1000 units or less is the sort of figure that gets the juices flowing and the wallets opening.

The second is its provenance. Who originally owned it and when? If it’s an old competition car, for example, was it raced by a big name to glory in a particularly prestigious event? Even a wrecked Ferrari is a big money ticket if it was Fangio, Hawthorn or Surtees who had done the damage.

The Ferrari 166 MM Barchetta that TopGear.com is currently piloting – nervously – round London’s Regent’s Park ticks the boxes in fairly substantial fashion, and then some. One of Ferrari’s earliest cars, it was built by Touring of Milan in 1950, barely three years into Ferrari’s existence.

Photos: Richard Pardon

With thanks to Clive Beecham and The Official Ferrari Magazine

Enzo Ferrari had yet to do the deal with Pinin Farina, forging a relationship that would see the Torinese fabricator design virtually every Ferrari road car from 1951 on, so this was an era when all sorts of coachbuilding specialists were clothing Ferrari chassis’ and signature Colombo-designed 1.5-litre V12.

Few were prettier than this. Touring made just 25 166 MMs using its ‘superleggera’ (super light) beaten aluminium approach, none of which were identical, but all of which raced.

Indeed, it was a 166 MM that scored Ferrari’s first win in the Le Mans 24 hours, in 1949, when Luigi Chinetti – a key figure in Ferrari history, who would go on to be the firm’s vitally important US importer – did a heroic 23-hour-plus stint because his co-driver Lord Selsdon was indisposed (or drunk, depending on who you believe). Amazingly, the same car also won that year’s Mille Miglia.

This naturally did wonders for the nascent Prancing Horse’s image, which is probably why a young Gianni Agnelli decided he had to have one. He duly commissioned Touring to build chassis no: 0064, the 24th of the 25.

In 1950, Agnelli was yet to ascend to the highest echelons of Fiat, the company founded by his grandfather in 1899. That would eventually happen in 1966, and he would remain chairman until 1996. In that time, he would variously run a company that would be responsible for four per cent of Italy’s entire GDP, endure a bitterly controversial battle with the country’s unions, and purchase a controlling stake in Ferrari.

Opinions vary on Agnelli’s effectiveness as a manager, and Fiat certainly endured some tough times during his 30-year tenure. But one thing is indisputable: no car industry boss, then or now, could hold a candle to the man they called 'l’avvacato’ when it came to embracing la dolce vita.

Power, money, women, intrigue, style – as the figurehead of one of the world’s top industrial dynasties, Agnelli was untouchable, and remains so 12 years after his passing. Lightly but powerfully built, everything he wore looked perfect, even if it shouldn’t have. In Italy, they have a name for it: ‘sprezzatura’, a kind of unintentional elegance. Agnelli typified the concept.

‘When he was not perfectly dressed, it was contrived,’ socialite and associate Taki Theodoracopulos told The Wall Street Journal. ‘The tie askew, the unbuttoned shirt – nothing was an accident. Or, to put it another way, it was meant to be an accident, which made it even more stylish.’

Back in 1950, though, when he was still heir apparent, his unashamed lust for life put Agnelli at odds with Fiat’s ascetic CEO Vittorio Valletta. Especially when it came to cars.

“It has to be you, with your name, to get your kicks out of cars made by our competitors,” the boss complained, seeing the delicate but racy Ferrari as proof of the young Agnelli’s rakish lifestyle. So wary of the old man was he that Agnelli even wore a disguise when he visited Touring to inspect progress.

Nor was he ever photographed with the 166 MM, not even when it appeared in a glass box during 1990’s L’Idea Ferrari exhibition in Florence. He couldn’t escape the ghostly censure of the old boss.

Years later, the man himself had this to say: ‘I still clearly remember that car, my first Ferrari. It was light and easy to drive, and gave you that unforgettable sensation of the wind swirling against your body when you went fast.

“My chauffeur never drives. I always do, it’s a habit. Once, when people went horseback riding, it was said, ‘there are those who prefer to sit in the driver’s seat, and those who prefer to sit in the carriage’. I prefer to sit in the driver’s seat.”

Agnelli didn’t keep the 166 MM long. (Perhaps it was for the best: in 1952, he crashed another vehicle, following an argument with his lover Pamela Churchill Harriman, sustaining the leg injury he would never fully recover from – typically, the boots he now needed to wear were immediately copied by fashionistas everywhere.)

Chassis no 0064 passed to Vicomte Gery d’Hendecourt in 1952, was upgraded to triple carburettors by Garage Francorchamps in 1953, raced by a young Olivier Gendebien (later to win Le Mans for Ferrari) at Spa in 1954, and then Pierre d’Haveloose and Armand and Jean Blaton.

In 1967, automotive consultant and historian Christian Philippsen found and returned the car to Garage Francorchamps owner Jacques Swaters, another important Ferrari figure, who had bought and sold it no fewer than six times in the late 1950s and ’60s. This time he hung onto it – for the next 46 years. It had been repainted red, but was eventually returned to its original blue-over-green metallic colour scheme.

Following a full restoration in the early 1990s, the experts in New York’s Museum of Modern Art invited Swaters to display the 166 MM there (an honour rarely extended to a car; Ferrari’s 1990 641 F1 car was one of the few others).

In his twilight years, Swaters instructed his daughter Florence that, if she did decide to sell the 166 MM, then it should be sold to British businessman and chocolatier Clive Beecham, who duly bought the car in 2012.

It keeps excellent company: Clive also owns the Rob Walker-campaigned, ex-Stirling Moss Ferrari 250 GT SWB and an ex-Ecurie Ecosse Jaguar D-type, while several Daytonas, a 308 GTB and rarest of all a 275 GTB4 NART Spyder have all spent time in his elegant London garage. (He also once co-owned a gorgeous Fiat 642 RN2 Bartoletti Ferrari racing transporter, but that lived elsewhere for obvious reasons.) This is a man who clearly knows his stuff.

“What’s important is that each car should give you something different in terms of the driving experience,” he says. “The SWB is clearly one thing, the 166 MM something else again, and I can do the Mille Miglia in it if I want to [he did just that, in 2013]. The D-type is something else altogether.

“I’ve never owned a modern supercar, and I think I’d be overwhelmed by its capabilities. I understand the F12berlinetta, for example, is just unbelievable. But I don’t really care how fast a car is so long as it’s a pleasure to drive.”

The 166 MM is definitely that, once you’ve got your head round the tricky straight-cut ‘crash’ gearbox. There’s almost nothing to it, for a start, so 140bhp makes light work of the car’s sub-700kg weight.

Clive’s car won the Coppa d’oro at Villa d’Este earlier this year, boosting its provenance further, and prompting its owner to give Agnelli’s grandson, and inheritor of his unique style, Lapo Elkann a spin round the grounds. God knows how he managed it, never mind 1000 miles around Italy, without leaving mashed cogs all over the place, but apparently it just takes practice.

In fact, Clive is game enough to tolerate a drive along London’s Piccadilly, where even the most Philistine tourist can spot something truly special when we stop at traffic lights.

The Mall, happily, is completely empty, and the sound made by 12 cylinders of Italian royalty exploring the business end of its huge centrally mounted rev counter is enough to have the Palace curtains twitching. This is an utterly bewitching car, whatever speed you’re doing.

“I don’t like endings. I don’t like the past except for the past defining our identity,” Agnelli once said. “I love the future. My life has always been a bet on the future.”

It’s a line that echoes Enzo Ferrari’s famous proclamation that his favourite Ferrari was always the next one. They’re both right, of course. Except when it comes to the 166 MM.