The Mille Miglia – History of a Legend

If you were asked about vintage cars, what instant images would take hold of your mind? Legally, “vintage vehicles” include motorcycles and cars deregistered because they’re destined for preservation in museums or private collections. But for true four-wheel enthusiasts, imagination more readily drifts to cars whose distinctive personalities have stamped an era—preserving it in amber and becoming instantly recognizable…and timeless. Their refusal to age and their determination not to yield to the new are evident in the wealth of memories revived through photographs, documents, and stories—memories that even play with the customs of the day, elevating them to iconic status and giving them priceless value.

It wasn’t a game—or maybe, for a time, it felt like one. But it certainly wasn’t just another race. It was “the” race. From 1927 for about thirty years, every spring the 1,600 km route from Brescia to Rome and back saw fierce competitors roaring along, all vying for the coveted podium.

“Mille Miglia: something undefinable, extraordinary, evocative of the fairy tales we devoured as children—stories of fairies, booted magicians, and boundless horizons. Mille Miglia: a suggestive phrase that today signifies the advance of machinery and the daring of men. A mad, exhausting race with no stops, through countryside and city, over mountains and along the seashore, by day and night. Ribbons of asphalt unfurling under roaring engines; eyes that never close in sleep; faces that don’t flinch; drivers with nerves of steel.” So wrote Giuseppe Tonelli in La Stampa in March of its inaugural year.

Since 1977, the Mille Miglia has been reborn as a rally for vintage cars. Entry remains limited: only owners of cars built no later than 1957—and that originally took part in, or at least registered for, the classic event—may apply. The course itself has stayed virtually unchanged. Entries remain impressive: in 2017, marking the race’s ninetieth anniversary, 705 competitors signed up.

Like an “8,” from Brescia to Rome and back in one continuous stage, with no breaks. That was the vision of Count Aymo Maggi and Renzo Castagneto, backed by Count Franco Mazzotti as first sponsor and the esteemed motoring writer Giovanni Canestrini. Seventy-seven teams started—only two from abroad—and twenty-two dropped out. Just fifty-five completed this wild, captivating journey. Records show that winners Ferdinando Minoia and Giuseppe Morandi finished in 21 hours, 48 minutes, and 4.5 seconds in their OM, averaging 77.238 km/h. Such triumph convinced them to do it again—and to tweak the route. Over subsequent editions, the course was altered thirteen times, even reversing direction from clockwise to counterclockwise.

That was Mussolini’s decree: no more racing through towns on public streets. It was too dangerous—and tragically, in 1938, an accident killed ten spectators, including seven children, and injured twenty-three more. A final catastrophe in 1957 sealed the race’s permanent end: a tire blowout claimed the lives of driver Alfonso de Portago and co-driver Edmund Gurney Nelson, plus five minors among the nine other victims. Even Enzo Ferrari, patron of the involved car, was drawn into a protracted trial.

The record still stands with F1 legend Stirling Moss. In 1955, at the wheel of his Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR, he completed the course in just 10 hours and 8 minutes—thanks largely to his ingenious navigator. Legend has it that Denis Jenkinson, after reconnaissance of the route, recorded his notes on a 4.5-meter-long sheet of paper: a record within a record.