Farewell, Ferrari

A loss not yet realized

Story by Pete Vack

It takes some time to adjust to a loss, or even recognize the permanence of absence.

There is an empty bay in the garage now, and it took a while to realize that it will not be filled again, soon or perhaps ever. And most certainly not with the 246GT Dino which once filled the space and our lives with color, sound and happiness.

On the night they came to take her away, the Dino gets a pre-shipping inspection by the transportation guru.

Happiness, for the Dino was a very happy car. In one word, a Dino, let us assume a good Dino, is simply delightful. It is a far different car than the 308 which replaced it, despite the identical chassis measurements, mid-engined location and even the same gearbox. They are worlds apart, and the Dino's world is a better place.

A last look at that wonderful engine.

I have been lucky enough to drive a wide variety of Ferrari's, from David Letterman's 212 Ghia, all the way to the 360 Modena. Of them all, my personal preference was the Dino 246GT, from the first time I sat in one. When a good, solid, original car came on the market, I didn't hesitate, since the last thing I wanted was a "sympathetically restored" car done in haste during the craziness of the late 1980s. Plus, in additon to never having been painted, it was rust free and yellow. I had enough red cars to last a lifetime. And once I found a good one, I had planned to keep it for whatever lifetime was left to me.

A Corvette had to be moved out of the transporter first, but we only had eyes for the Dino.

Throughout our ownership, I constantly reminded myself of the old adage, that one is but a caretaker, not an owner. Realizing there were very few original Dinos left, and fewer by the day, I tried to maintain it without changing the essential originality. Now there's a new one for the guys at Barrett Jackson: essential originality.

I hope that the new owner keeps this in mind. At the same time, once the car is sold, it is gone. May it have a better life.

The last time we saw the Dino.

In the meantime, the loss has yet to set in. But I'll soon miss the 90 mph runs down Treasure Island Road, the sheer joy of driving it just about anywhere, the sound and the small fury of the engine, and even the maintenance, which was minimal and so easy to do. And of course the looks it never failed to attract.

Ciao, Dino. Maybe again, next time around.