I'm not talking about Gordon Murray's blueprints, nor the Ultima GTR that was used for the prototype. McLaren's 'Lost Weekend' is the story of how the first real version of one of the greatest driving cars ever built, the F1, was born.

It was all down to the man who had a plane to catch, and told the team that "the first car would be running by Christmas, come hell or high water." That man was Gordon Murray, and in the morning of December 23rd, he chose a colorful shirt to complement his awesome mustache. Ha also had the key to best car in the world, the physical realization of his engineering genius. He was determined to drive it that morning.

I know all this from Driving Ambition - The Official Inside Story of the McLaren F1 written by Doug Nye, Ron Dennis and Gordon Murray. Here's the rest, and it only gets crazier:

The first prototype monocoque chassis / body unit for the first 'real' McLaren F1 - serial 'XP1' - absorbed something like 6,000 man-hours in manufacture at Shalford and was then delivered to Genesis - ready for mechanical completion - early in December, 1992.

Creighton: "Gordon had pledged that the first car would be running by Christmas, come hell or high water, and the team virtually worked themselves to death to make sure it would happen".

"Gordon was booked on a flight to South Africa at 3pm on December 23rd. He was implacably determined to drive the car first, "even if only for a yard or two in the car park... Many of the guys thought they'd escaped from all-nighters when they left Formula 1. They soon realized they hadn't, and they were just fantastic!"

The hectic completion of 'XP1' has since passed into McLaren Cars' mythology as 'The Lost Weekend'. None slept. Mechanic Paul Flood's wife was poised to give birth. In the middle of McLaren's crisis he took a brief hour off for the birth, and rushed back afterwards...

And you thought your boss was hard on you! Still, I guess when your job is to be the best of the Empire Britain, personal matters like childbirth can be annoying. But it's all well that ends well:

By mid-morning, December 23rd, the Genesis' shop was populated by grey-faced, exhausted ghosts as 'XP1' - unpainted - was lowered onto the workshop floor. With the TAG electronics technicians in attendance, Gordon thumbed the starter-button and the big BMW V12 slammed into life. Clutch out, he clicked it into gear, eased the clutch pedal home... but McLaren F1 'XP1' simply sat defiantly still. The clutch adamantly refused to engage. Gordon: "We tried adjusting it, but ran out of adjustment range. Still it would not bite. It had to be some assembly fault, the output shaft was too long, preventing the clutch from taking up. I had the boys unbolt the gearbox, edge it back, and re-secure it on spacers allowing the clutch to grip".Thus jury-rigged, 'XP1' whooped and burbled out of the workshop, mobbed by the total Genesis team elated (if rocking on their feet), amid the popping of Champagne corks. The compact black revolution which stood poised to re-write the world's high-performance motoring standards was then driven the 300 yards or so across "to International", TAG-McLaren's main base on the opposite side of the road, to be weighed on Formula 1 car scales. The result - admittedly lacking some parts and unpainted - was 1,003kg! Gordon caught his plane and, like his team back home, slept happy. They had all earned Christmas Eve off.

I want this book badly.

Now that you know what happened, I guess it's time to show you the rest of the rare photos documenting that morning, straight from McLaren's treasure chest. I'll try my best to follow the timeline:

But the XP1's story didn't last long. Our resident F1 expert Peloton25 pointed out why can't we see the first F1 levitating in a magnetic field in the main lobby at McLaren:

During hot weather testing in the Namibian desert while in the hands of a BMW test engineer, the car ran offline at speeds over 150 mph clipping a stone gutter causing it to tumble into the desert end-over-end several times, coming to rest on its roof in a near-devastating mess. Thankfully the chassis held together and the driver was able to scramble out to safety through the broken windscreen, but unfortunately it became a complete disaster for the car when fluids from the engine ignited on the hot exhaust manifold and the car burned uncontrollably — 'XP1' was lost forever.

The date was March 24, 1993 and the loss of 'XP1' was a rather large setback to the development program, but undeterred by the moment of bad luck, the team pressed on.

Another piece of McLaren F1 mythology - and true enough to be published in "Driving Ambition" - was that following news of the crash, Ron Dennis had every fragment of 'XP1' gathered, and placed in a box to be buried - with a suitable tombstone - at the McLaren Museum. I've never seen the tombstone and I don't know where the McLaren Museum is but I still don't doubt the story for some reason.

Then again, they do have another XP1, just in case...

Photo credit: McLaren Automotive and Peloton25. Source: Driving Ambition - The Official Inside Story of the McLaren F1

Evo's Editior-in-chief Harry Metcalfe is a proud owner of a Lamborghini Countach QV, so it's only natural he took part in the 50th anniversary celebration tour with it across Italy. Enjoy the newest episode of Evo Diaries.

While enjoying the sunshine and the sound of the engines, he also took the time to shoot a nice video explaining the evolution of Lamborghini's V12 supercars in detail from the Miura to the Aventador.

I've never seen anybody driving more casually with an open door before.

I know the Louvre is famous. It has the Mona Lisa and I've even seen it a few times, but for me the real art in life is the automobile. Bodywork. Engines. Wheels. I love it all. Like this one of a kind Lancia Delta Integrale Spyder! And to find a Museum dedicated solely to the beauty of the car was really cool for me. It's called the Museo Nazionale Dell' Automobile.

I never knew it existed, to be honest, and I was simply driving back from the Monaco Grand Prix on my motorsport road trip and happened to stop in to Turino. I'm always told to go see the BMW deal in Munich(which I've seen) or thePorsche Museum, but those are all giant marketing exercises and I've seen most of my favorites at the various vintage races.

This Museum was built in 1932 by Cesare Goria Gatti and Roberto Biscaretti di Ruffia (the first President of the Turin Automobile Club and one of the founders of the Fiat company) to celebrate their love of cars. Sure many of the vehicles were donated by Fiat and other manufacturers but many different brands were represented.

There were even crazy old things like this steam contraption which is supposed to be a recreation of the world's first self propelled vehicle built by 1769 by Nicolas Joseph Cugnot in Paris's Military Arsenal. But there are also really cool, semi-modern Ferrari's like this 1973 365 GT4 2+2:

I think this Fiat was one of the coolest cars in the building. I've never seen anything like it. I know modern stamping machines can't make these bodies but you think someone, somewhere would still build something like this. It was amazing to see in person. Its a Fiat Turbina from 1954.

It's a turbine-powered car. 300cv was listed as I believe the displacement along with a max velocity of 250kph. I also read that he Turbino was the second car ever powered by a turbine engine – the first was by Rover.

Check out the rear fins! Its hard to explain how radical this little thing was in person. I also read that the Turbino held the lowest drag coefficient(0.14) of any car for 30 years.

And surprisingly there was a Cadillac just sitting there by itself. I'm not sure of the significance of this model (Cadillac 62) or why it was on display in Italy but it was cool to see it being admired so far from home.

It is interesting to me too see what the Europeans find interesting about American cars. I would have assumed it was the big V8 engines, but it appears to be the styling. Particularly the front grills.

But let's face it, this might be cool if you live in Italy, but for me its the European cars from the middle of the last century that are amazing. This is an Alfa Romeo Disco Volante from 1952!

And there were cars from manufacturer's that I've never even heard of like this Diatto from 1925.

I've obviously heard of Citroen but never one from 1934. I don't care much for their current cars (well except for the WRC versions) but man this thing looked amazing in person. Why can't they just build cars like this with modern running gear (And I suppose bumpers and stuff)?

This is a Cisitalia 202 from 1948 with a 1090cc 4 cylinder and top speed of 155kph. The cool thing about this car is the bodywork. The hood, body, fenders and headlights surround are all one piece abd in person it's flowing lines are beautiful. The car was commissioned by Dante Giacosa and built on a Fiat with the body made by Pininfarina.

And because it's a museum there was even some auto art on display. I stuck mostly to the cars but thought this was pretty cool looking.

And of course they had the world's largest automobile Chia Pet on display as well.

This is a Fiat 500 Barchetta Bertone (1936-47). The starting date of 1936 is because the chassis and driveline were derived from the 1936 Fiat 500. Here's the cool part of the story. The young son (Nuccio Bertone) of the Bertone founder bought a 500 with his own cash and worked with two mechanics outside of business hours to build it! It was his "racing" barchetta. So cool.

This car must have been cool to drive with no windscreen. Just a pair of googles I assume.

Before we get to the racecars I came across this. Each little circle represents a car manufacturer that existed at some point in the city of Turino. I wonder what Detroit's version of this looked like. And Fiat, which is still based in Turino today, is the green circle all by itself in the upper left hand corner.

This was the entrance to the race car area. So cool how real and lifelike these photos were with the light projected onto them.

And on the other side was the version ending in Schumacher:

After leaving the drivers, you enter this hall of Grand Prix cars:

And here is a video of that room with the cool interactive backdrop. It's not some high tech Pink Floyd laser light show but it is cooler than automotive art display I've ever seen. Anyone could have dropped them there with even a photo behind it but they instead choose to make art to go with the art. I like that. so I took a quick video to share. The video went on for minutes before resetting. This is just a section of it.

This is a Alfa Romeo 33 TT 12 from 1975. 2995cc horizontally opposed 12 cylinder! With a top speed of 320 kph, it earned Alfa Romeo the World Manufacturers Championship in 1975 winning 7 of 8 races.

The catermaran of cars! It almost looks like a vehicle from Star Wars, but it's a TARF from 1948 with a 4 cylinder 350cc engine. Later it carried larger 550cc engines and from 1948 to 1957 it set 22 international speed records. The left pod held the driver and the right pod was filled with an engine, transmission and fuel tank. And due to the layout featured 4 wheel independent suspension.

1954 Mercedes RW 196. If only that horrible crash hadn't happened in Le Mans the following year, Mercedes would have gone on to build some amazing machines(and a bunch of people wouldn't have died). This one is a 2496cc 8 cylinder with a top speed of 290kph. Easily one if my favorites in the show. I've read a lot about these cars, just never seen any in person.

This Mercedes was special for other reasons too. It was one of the most technolically advanced Formula 1 car back in the day with a valve train that was directly driven and used no return springs. It had twin plug heads and direct injection. It also won the first race it entered – The Grand Prix of France at Rheims in 1954.

Cisitalia Abarth 204 A and just beautiful! My understanding is that the 204 A was Abarth's first car he ever built.

Lancia D24 from 1953. 3284cc 6 cal with a top speed of 250kph. This car took Manuel Fangio, Piero Taruffi, and Eugenio Castellotti to the first three places in the 1953 Carrera PanAmericana. In 1954 Taruffi used it to win the Targa Florio and Ascari drove it to victory at the Mille Miglia. This was the sports car to have in 1953 and 1954.

This almost deserves its own write up! It was a project for F1 done in cooperation with the Swiss Magazine Automobil Revue in 1969! 2900CC 400hp. With safety features like a "self extinguishing" gas tank.

Ferrari 312 T5 from 1980. 12 cylinder 2992cc and beautiful in every way. Unfortunately the T5 didn't win one race during the 1980 F1 season. This number 2 car was driven by Gilles Villeneuve during the season featured a transverse gearbox(hence the T) and mini sideskirts for ground effect.

Lancia Delta Integrale Evolution! This car is so loved by fanatics that they put it behind bars to protect it! Or because it was outlawed from racing when Group B died.

There was also a whole area dedicated to engines that was very cool. It ranged from your typical race motors to bizarro contraptions like this thing build by Murnigotti in 1879.

This is a Fiat 18 BL from 1914.

The engine was absolutely amazing to see and touch in person. Yeah I know you're not supposed to touch the art, but its not Louvre, this is a piece of metal. Its a Delage Grand Prix engine from 1925

The were a ton of other engines on display but also this really coo,l interactive display showing how engine technology changed over time :

I found this in a room of what I believe were prototypes so I dont think they ever built this. I'm not even sure what to make of it. But they call it a Fiat 130 Shooting Brake.

At first glance, this was just another Ferrari 360 but then I noticed the windscreen and realized something wasn't totally normal. I doubt it's safe, but it looks so much better than the regular one.

Apparently this was used to fit body panels! So cool. I would love to see someone build a car using this technique. Must be awesome to watch. The guys were true artists. So while this place certainly was not the Louvre, the cars in this Museum are by far my favorite form of art.

Photos by Bill Caswell

The French Berliet T100 was the largest truck in the world in 1957. The Vespa 400, on the other hand, was an Italian bubble car also produced in France. Putting them together still looks like a fun afternoon.

The T100 was built in limited production for research and oil exploration in the Sahara. It had a 29.6-litre Cummins V12 producing 700 horsepower, while the steering was powered by a separate Panhard engine.

When it was unveiled at the 1957 Paris car show, it was too big to fit in the main exhibition hall, so Berliet had to build a special external pavilion for it. They even fitted it with a Turbomeca helicopter jet engine in 1962, but fuel consumption made them change their minds.

As for the Vespa 400, that had a two cylinder, two stroke, air cooled engine, four wheel independent suspension and a 3 speed plus reverse transmission, with 2nd & 3rd synchromesh and an optional 4 speed.

According to Wikipedia, The British Motor Magazine tested a 400 de luxe saloon in 1959 recording a top speed of 51.8 mph.

Brave chaps.

Photo credit: Andre GAMET/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images

Come on, Miss Unsafe Brakes, have a sandwich or something! You're in 1939 Chicago, for weeping audibly, have a nice big deep-dish hot dog cheesesteak hoagie or whatever it is they eat there. I swear I can see your sternum behind that sash.

And, in case you're wondering, this picture was taken at the 1939 Chicago Auto Show, where, if I'm understanding everything, unsafe brakes were being touted as the Hot New Thing! It was sort of like driving without a steering wheel today — a jaunty way to let everyone know what a devil-may-care scoundrel you were.

Sure, we could have had nice safe disc brakes in cars as early as 1902, but we were all just having too much fun and looking too cool with our sweet, fade-prone unsafe drum brakes.

Hot damn! I'm gonna go drain all the fluid out of my master cylinder right now and get in on the unsafe braking fun!

(Thanks, T.Mike!)

It's the birthday of the man who finally perfected internal-combustion, Nikolaus Otto. While he was a travelling salesman he heard about the Lenoir internal-combustion engine, and started experimenting on his own.

After developing a carburetor for the Lenoir engine, which allowed the use of liquid fuel instead of the pain-in-the-ass to store and more gaseous fuel, he started to look at the engine's fundamental cycle, and found it lacking.

Internal combustion engines of the time roughly mimicked the steam engines that preceded them, in that they were using mostly atmospheric pressure in the cylinder to get things done. Otto added a compression stroke to really maximize the power of the combustion stroke, and in doing so, created the first viable four-stroke engine as we know it.

Now, Otto only ever made stationary engines, and the actual four-cycle concept with a compression stroke was actually first concieved 16 years earlier by Alphonse Beau de Rochas, but that guy never built any engines that used the principle, so Otto gets the props here.

So, Happy Birthday, Nick! I hope in whatever afterlife you're in you have access to something to see that embarrassing animated GIF I made of you because, you know we love you.

(Thanks for reminding me, jessethouin!)

Easy! Both were designed by the same guy, Childe Wills. Despite the indignity of being named, basically, "child," Wills had an interesting career in the early automotive industry, designing both the calligraphic Ford logo and giving humanity that unsung hero of lights, the reversing light.

Wills went to work for Ford quite early on, in 1899, before Henry Ford even had started what would become the Ford Motor Company. While at the earlier Detroit Automobile Company/Henry Ford Company, Wills helped Ford build the famous 999 racer. When Ford actually started Ford as we know it, Wills went with him as chief designer and metallurgist. That's when he designed the fancy wedding-invitation looking script of the name "Ford" that eventually got stuck in that blue oval that we all know.

Eventually, Wills and Ford's relationship grew strained, since Ford was kind of an angry, skinny ghoul to many people, and Wills took his severance package and started his own company, Wills Sainte Claire. The company was named for him, duh, and also the Saint Clair river near his new assembly plant. Then he added more 'e's because he knows more 'e's means more class. I'm sorry, moree classe.

Wills' cars were innovative and of extremely high quality, to the point that he eventually put himself out of business. But before that happened, he introduced the 1922 Wills Sainte-Claire A-68 Roadster: a 67 HP V8 (with the ability to run on one bank of 4 if needed) that was also the first car to have back-up lights.

It's said that Willis wanted the backup lights because he'd backed into a few hydrants, and, understandably, was sick of it. The backup light he created is pretty much exactly like what we know today: comes on automatically when reverse is engaged, and casts a nice bright white light to see by.

In fact, the humble and often-ignored back up light is the only rear-mounted light that's designed to give illumination for the driver, and not just signal other motorists behind you. It's your unassuming little pal who's always got your back, and it's time we gave it some thanks.

(Sources: Wikipedia, Hemmings, How Stuff Works)

Cars have been around longer than people realize, with larval versions dating back to the early 1800s. What's also been around a long time is people's infatuation with the idea of a go-anywhere exploration vehicle. Even if they were only built in jingoistic imaginations, it's still a start.

These proto-Unimogs first entered the collective mind around the Victorian era, when cheap, pulp novels containing stories now called "Edisonades" were popular. These were stories about young, bold, innovative men who used their incredible skills at inventing and technology to have adventures, chase bad guys, and, most cringingly to modern eyes, subjugate the crap out of pretty much anyone not white and protestant.

Still, outdated racial unpleasantness aside, these stories were the forerunners of the science fiction and technothrillers of today. That's not to say they were actually good, since, really, they were generally pretty poorly written, with predictable plots and eye-rolling dialog, but the machines they came up with were usually pretty spectacular.

There were all kinds of steam-powered robots and mechanical horses, airships and helicopters and flying packs and submarines and electric cannon, in these stories, but I want to look at some of the off-road vehicles: Franke Reade Jr.'s New Electric Van, his Valiant battle-van, and Jack Wright's Electric Stage.

Both of these stories, even though they came from competing series of books, were written by Luis Senarens, both in 1893, under the pseudonym "Noname." Clever. What's interesting about these vehicles is how much they foreshadow future extreme-use campers and expedition vehicles, but that may be because the basic form of these kinds of things is so straightforward: rugged chassis with good ground clearance, and a big box on top to live/ride/shoot at things in.

The phrase "New Electric Van" nowadays conjures up images of an eco-friendly vehicle UPS is using in urban environments, but back in the 1890s, it was an exciting globetrotting platform you could shoot tigers out of. In the story "Franke Reade Jr.'s New Electric Van," the alternate title is "Hunting Wild Animals In The Jungles of India" which between the two titles, tells you pretty much all you need to know.

Shooting lions from an electric van - what more do you need?

The Electric Van itself is interesting, showing a uniquely 1890s take on the extreme expedition vehicle. The chassis is almost train-like, with large coil springs supporting the main body rails, and leaf springs for the large wheels. The wheels themselves are massive spoked things with what appear to be heavily grooved iron tires. The body itself is screened on the sides for comfortable airflow, I suppose, and has a series of gun ports along each side, for maximum animal-shooting enjoyment. For even more shooting fun, there's a cannon on the roof!

There's a cockpit with a horizontal steering wheel, and the batteries and running gear seem to be crammed into the main spine of the vehicle, which is not a bad idea at all, and not too different from what, say, Tesla does today. It's even got wheel spikes and nasty-looking horns in the front, but all in all it resembles one of the early steam and electric trucks in use at the time.

Frank Reade had a later van-like vehicle, but it was less of an exploration vehicle and more of a proto-tank sort of thing. This was the Valiant, which looks sort of like a quaint Victorian cottage on wheels, with a massive front spike, sharp prow, mounted cannon and a guy on board with what appears to be an electric whip.

The other exploration van was called the Terror, Jack Wright's "electric stage." In this story, subtitled "Leagued Against the James Boys," the massive six-wheeled brute was used, it seems, to hunt down the Jesse James gang.

The Terror itself fit a similar mold as the other proto-vans, but more train-like. The six large wheels are arranged in a locomotive-type formation of two small axles up front, and a large set of wheels at the rear, with the electric propulsion provided by a pair of cylindrical motors that look a bit like reciprocating steam pistons, except for the electric "glow lines" coming off of them.

The body is enclosed and very similar to a train car, and there is an exposed cockpit in the front, with a steering wheel positioned, I guess, to turn all four front wheels. Sort of like the Tyrell P34 race car, maybe? Oh, and of course, there's a huge, scary spike.

All these vehicles are fascinating in how they show that people have been wanting, essentially, tough armored RVs since the idea of self-propulsion even became plausible. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to recommend reading any of these, but all of the Edisonades are at least worth looking up online, and being dazzled by the illustrations, absurd and visionary all at once.

It's sort of strange to think about now, but there was once a time in America when the very idea of a sports car was considered confusing and strange. And I'm not talking about 1784, when having a sports car would probably get you burned as a witch; I'm talking about the 1950s.

This certainly wasn't the case with all Americans, however. GIs returning from the war in Europe came back having seen a vast number of things — most of them were the horrors of war, but one of the few bright spots was their first introduction to the smaller, lighter, nimbler cars being built across Europe at the time. Some were able to bring these back, and those people became the first "sports car" enthusiasts.

To American eyes, most of these cars seemed like flimsy, underpowered things, and most people had no intention of giving up their massive, powerful, air-conditioned, couch-seated cars. Americans knew about hot rods and race cars, but the idea of something quick and small and still usable as normal transport was absolutely alien. That's why articles like this one in the 1953 edition of Sports Car Album are so fascinating. Here it is. It's as worth reading today as it was then:

A sports car is a car built to be enjoyed for its own sake. Although it isn't intended for utility, this doesn't mean it isn't useful. Use can be a pleasure as well as a routine. Many people don't like sports cars; many people don't really like being alive, either. Sports cars make a positive statement. They're thoroughbreds with style, temperament and character. They compare to American family cars the way a sailboat compares to a coal barge.

To enjoy sports cars for their own sake requires a certain participation by the driver. He must be willing to regard comfort as a combination of physical and mental security, since control can't co-exist with living-room luxury. He must be immune to insolent jibes from the public, who think he's a freak, who like to poke or kick his car when he leaves it parked, and who strive to beat him away from every stop light just to show the superiority of the Sad Six with Mush-o-Matic. He must be stalwart, too, when The Law leers down from a motorcycle with "American cars ain't fast enough for you, eh?" after a hair-raising chase at 32 m.p.h. in a 25 m.p.h. zone. The driver, as well as the car, needs strength of character.

Sports cars are — contrary to the most common criticism — less specialized and more versatile than family cars. Most of them can be used for daily transportation in traffic, or for road-racing in competition. Unlike the track racer or the "hot rod," which are designed for maximum speed in a straight line, the sports car is intended for performance at all speeds, under all conditions.

The author of this (I think a guy named Lloyd Mallan?) hit the nail on the head, and it makes sense for so many of us out there today who, say, still prefer to shift our own gears or value agility and fun over raw power, or are willing to put their kid in the car they want instead of defaulting to a minivan.

Also, people would "poke or kick" sports cars when parked? What the hell, anti-sports-car '50s-era Americans? Couldn't you just smoke and drink and leave the cars alone? Also, anyone with a Sad Six that has a Mush-O-Matic, please contact me for a classic review.

On June 30, 1953, the first Chevrolet Corvettes started rolling off the assembly line in Flint, Michigan. Sixty years and scores of annihilated tires later, the 'Vette is still going strong, and an absurdly fast new 2014 Corvette Stingray is headed our way soon.

In celebration of the Corvette's 60th birthday this weekend, the folks at GM have put out a bunch of historical photos from the early 1950s when the car first entered production.

The first Corvette is a very different animal than the one we have today. While it had an attractive design and resembled the sports cars of Europe, it came only with a two-speed automatic transmission and the anemic 150-horsepower "Blue Flame" straight six. Performance wasn't exactly Earth-shattering, and sales weren't either, but things improved in 1955 when Chevrolet decided to give the Corvette a boost in the most American way possible: by shoving a V8 under its hood. The rest, as they say, was history.

GM also sent some fun facts our way too: did you know that the Corvette is the world’s longest-running, continuously produced passenger car? (The longest-running vehicle of any type is the Chevrolet Suburban, apparently.)

Enjoy these photos of the original Corvette in all its glory, and be glad we've come a long way from the Blue Flame Six.

Born out of a need to keep up with market demands, Volvo's first purpose-build estate car was an instant hit in 1953 that started the everlasting tradition of the Volvo wagon. Meet the classic Duett.

When Volvo introduced the compact PV444 in 1944, it transformed them from being a small-scale Swedish car manufacturer into a player on the international car market. But after they put it into production three years later, it became obvious that people also want small commercial vehicles with different body styles. The problem was that the PV444's unitary construction didn't allow significant modifications. Therefore, Volvo came out with the PV445 using a light but strong separate chassis frame.

The PV445 had 1.4 litre OHV four with 40 hp and could carry loads up to 1,100 pounds, or even more if you pushed your luck. It was delivered in driveable chassis form without bodywork behind the driver's seat. Instead, there were over 30 different coachbuilding companies in Sweden offering wooden frames with sheet steel panelling or all-steel bodies and cabs.

The PV455 was a true workhorse with an utilitarian interior providing "low cosiness factor". It also lasted way too long, so by the early fifties, Volvo found itself with 1,500 unsold 445 delivery chassis parked outside the factory. Meanwhile, other manufacturers started selling purpose-build estates instead of relying on the coachbuilders. At Volvo, a young engineer called Erik Skoog got the task of coming up with their own wagon. 15 months later – on July 4th 1953 – the first 445 Duett was delivered to Volvo president Assar Gabrielsson himself.

The Duett was able as both a commercial van and slightly more luxurious family wagon. Volvo's last body-on-frame car got a one-piece windscreen and a four-speed gearbox in 1960, but kept its '40s looks until production ended in 1969 due to the introduction of new crash regulations. The total Duett production came to just over 97,000 units and with the separate chassis versions added, the total number was 101,492.

The grandad of the V70R...

What's your all-time favorite Volvo Wagon?

Photo credit: Volvo

It's safe to say most of us have a love/hate relationship with traffic lights: we love how they make traffic manageable on a large scale, and we hate their stupid, red-faced arrogance as they demand we stop and go just because they say so. We don't usually think of them as dangerous. But the very first one sure was.

Here's something else fascinating about the humble traffic light: it's way older than you'd think. The first traffic light appeared in 1868, and while that doesn't exactly predate cars, it certainly predates, by a long shot, even the slightest mass adoption of cars. Aside from the very rare steam-powered omnibus, the first traffic light was meant to deal primarily with the sort of vehicles that have manes, love apples, and defecate prodigiously.

That first traffic light was designed by John Peake Knight, and was placed at the intersection of Great George and Bridge Streets, just outside of the House of Parliament. The streets had gotten so busy with carriages and people (partially the result of the relatively new rail system bringing more and more people into London) that Knight, a railway signal engineer, decided to adapt the semaphore signaling system used on the railroads to normal road traffic.

The apparatus he designed was fairly simple: a tall pole with a pair of semaphore arms. When the arms were both sticking straight out, traffic was to stop. When the arms dropped to a 45° angle, you could proceed with caution. This system was meant to mimic the actions of a traffic cop's arms that people were already familiar with.

Here's a description from The Engineer, December 11, 1868:

As regards the design of the pillar, Mr. Hodgson, their manager, dotes not seem to have restrained himself by the rigid rules of any particular "order," but he has, nevertheless, contrived to present an imposing street ornament that will not be at all out of keeping whth even such ornate decorations in stone and iron as are presented in New Palace-yard hard by.

The pillar has a total height above thie ground level of 24ft. The centres of the semaphore arms are 18ft. high, and the centres of the magnifying lemses above each arm, which show the red and green lights corresponding with the positions of the arms, are 20ft. 4in. high. The lenses are 6in. in diameter, and the semaphore arms 4ft. long, 12in, broad at the outer end, reduced by a curve on each edge to 6 in, broad at the necks.

The pillar is octagonal in form at the base and the top, and the upper part of the shaft is round, with a spiral coil. At the bottom it is 1ft 8in in diameter, diminishing upwards at set stages, divided by projecting mouldings. The sides of the pillars are ornamented with gothic and diaper panelling.

The crankwork of the semaphore arms is fitted in a cleverly designed swell, over which there is an upper neck, and above that an ornate light box, with a sloping roof crocketed on the angles, and surmounted by a pine-apple finial. The pillar is a very good casting, and of about five tons in weight. The mechanism is cleverly contrived, and so nicely adjusted as to secure rapid and very smooth and easy working. The changes of position can be given, without any strain in the effort, by a lady or a youth.

The only notable novelties in the mechanical arrangements are those by which four arms, two of which are at right angles with the other two, and four lamp discs are acted upon at the same time, by a single pull or push of the connecting bar.

A "pine-cone" finial! Classy! Plus, this thing was "gilt-bordered" all over the place, making modern traffic lights look like piles of crap.

There was one criticism of the signal light, however:

The pillar has one defect in its design that cannot fail to attract notice —the absence of four or mere handsome brackets, carrying gas lamps for general lighting. The old lamps of the refuge look very dwarfish and seedy beside their new neighbours.

So, it didn't have street lighting. Okay. But it did have a lanterns with red and green lenses for night use, with red and green meaning just what we think they do.

Those red and green lanterns, despite making their neighbors look "dwarfish and seedy," also had one other huge issue that led to the signal's rapid demise, despite a promising start: they blew up cop faces.

Only three weeks after the signal was installed, On January 2, 1869, a leaky gas valve caused one of the lanterns to explode, just about blowing the face off the poor bastard stuck there operating the signal.

Disenchanted by the facesplosions, the traffic signal was dismantled shortly thereafter. And Londoners just had to deal with terrible traffic chaos for 60 more years, until they finally got more modern electric traffic lights in 1929.

(Source: The Engineer)

Vauxhall Motors has launched a limited edition book and microsite titled Vauxhall and I to celebrate their 110th anniversary. Morrissey had nothing to do with this one. Instead, it's a massive slice of Britain's cultural history from a unique point of view.

Written by Richard Benson after studying the historical records of the company's factories for over a year, the book "contains personal stories from people who have loved and driven the cars since 1903, including Queen Elizabeth II, Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, Bob Marley and the British public. Also included is a range of rare interviews and information from deep within the Vauxhall archives."

While I really don't care what Naomi Campbell had to say about Vauxhalls, another big thumbs up goes to Her Majesty for mastering that Vauxhall Cresta in 1968 with Prince Andrew in Windsor Great Park.

Photo credit: Vauxhall Motors

It's Independence Day here in the US, and I'd like to ask you to take a moment from giving those Redcoats the finger and chugging Pabst to reflect on a true American hero, Sylvester Roper, inventor of both the motorcycle and dying on a motorcycle.

Sylvester Roper was born in Boston in 1823, and proved himself to be a gifted mechanic and inventor from a very young age. When most kids of his era were pushing iron hoops down the road with sticks or boiling paraffin or telegraph-tweeting or whatever the hell kids did back then, Sylvester was building steam engines and inventing new types of sewing machines.

Eventually, Roper turned his attention to steam-powered vehicles, and while he wasn't the earliest, he did have a working, drivable steam carriage as early as 1863. Just think about that for a moment. When our country was still in the middle of a war trying to decide if certain groups of people were property or not, this guy was out, driving around in a car.

It seems that being an incredible badass with a car 50 or so years before everyone else would catch on wasn't enough for Roper, so he decided to start experimenting with two-wheeled steam vehicles, perhaps out of a desire to head to the California Territory where he could lane-split.

By 1867, Roper had built his first steam velocipede, and he was hooked. Built on what is likely a purpose-built frame (there's some contention on that), Roper's machine hung the boiler right below the rider's junk (not a worry if you were Roper, who seemed to have balls made of the finest forged steel), with the twin pistons flanking the frame to either side. The water tank was saddle-shaped and used as a seat, and the wheels were solid iron. Oh, and true to its future progeny, there was a nice big steam pipe exiting behind the driver, hopefully chromed.

To operate the motorcycle, Roper came up with the twist-grip method we know and love today, though a bit different: the whole handlebar twisted as a unit, forward giving throttle, and backwards applying the not-too-effective spoon brake. It's a pretty intuitive interface, if you think about it.

There was so much about this 328cc steam motorcycle that sets the template for the future: a pressure gauge right where we expect the instruments on a modern motorcycle, an engine-powered water pump, spring suspension of the drivetrain — it's a truly ingenious machine.

I should mention that there's some people who don't consider Roper's machine to be the first motorcycle because it wasn't gas-powered. I say that's inane. You put a motor between your legs on a bike frame, and that's a motheradoring motorcycle, period. So shuddup, you.

From this beginning Roper kept developing, culminating in his safety-bike-framed version that he'd been refining from 1884 until he died on it in 1896. It was described at the time as being about 8 HP, and the whole assembly only weighed about 150 lbs, with coal and water, which is damned impressive.

Roper did many exhibitions and shows involving his carriage and motorcycle, and from all accounts seemed to genuinely enjoy riding the motorcycle. He died doing what he loved in 1896, when while riding on Boston's Charles River bicycle track, he was hauling iron ass at 40 MPH, when his bike appeared to wobble, and then crash.

The cause of death was found to be a heart attack, though whether it was the cause or the effect of the loss of control isn't really known. A Boston Globe obituary suggested that Roper had cut off the steam prior to crashing, indicating that he knew something was wrong.

We'll never really know, and, in the end, it doesn't matter. Sylvester Roper was one of those incredible combinations of brains and balls (or ovaries, as the case may be) that are the driving force behind so much of what's good in the world.

So, raise your tepid beers to the sky and give some thanks to old Sylvester, the American hero.

(Sources: Wikipedia, The Vintagent)

Honda's always been an interesting company, even if they have, on occasion, made some pretty boring cars. But even when they do make dull, somewhat uninspiring vehicles, those very same vehicles are named after some pretty radical ancestors. I'm talking about the Odyssey and Pilot.

Even the addition of an integrated vacuum cleaner isn't enough to make many people passionate about the honest wallflower of a minivan that is the Odyssey, but did you know that Honda's original vehicle named "Odyssey" was this radical ATV thing?

Yep, from 1976-1984 a Honda Odyssey wasn't something you safely toted your kids back and forth from soccer practice in, it was something that let your kids tear ass like a maniac all over the place and possibly lose a finger or two. The original Odyssey was a lot like a tiny sand rail, with a two-stroke engine of up to 349cc. Some models had curvy yellow bodywork with a tall, narrow rollcage, topped by a spotlight. Pretty much the exact opposite of what most of us think of when we think "Honda Odyssey."

After the Odyssey was discontinued, its place in the dunes and dirt was filled by the Pilot, which many of you know as the other deeply, profoundly boring car/SUV made by Honda. But before the Pilot was that almost invisible never-goes-offroad-offroader, it was a genuinely offroadable rugged-looking little tube-framed, 400cc monster.

So unless Toyota is secretly making an amphibious rocketplane called the Camry, I think it's a pretty safe bet that Honda has the most radically different vehicles sharing the same name of any car company ever.

Sebastian Loeb had it all easy with his Peugeot at this year's Pikes Peak. Yes, it's true he broke the previous record by over a minute and a half, but at least he could hear what was going on in his helmet.

The same couldn't be said about Eddie Rickenbacker.

Before becoming the fighter ace of the First World War, getting the Medal of Honor, starting his own car company, working for the government as a consultant in military matters, leading Eastern Air Lines and drawing comics, Rickenbacker was racing for Peugeot with Fred McCarthy as his co-driver. Still, even at that early age, he was trying to make the world a better place:

While driving for Peugeot, Rickenbacker invented a way to communicate with his riding mechanic over the roar of the engines by connecting two leather face masks together with rubber speaking tubes. While this worked well, he gave up the idea after deciding the masks were "unbearably hot and itchy."

The caption on verso is also interesting:

Our Latest Gemini Astronauts? No, not from our next projected space flight, but from another era, the two gentlemen behind the masked are Eddie Rickenbacker (r) and Fred McCarthy (l), driver and mechanic of a Peugeot race car during the 1914 Corona, Calif. road race. The use of leather face masks to protect themselves against flying pebbles necessitated the use of speaking tubes to keep in constant communication. With crash helmets and dark goggles, their appearance is truly "out of this world".

In the early twenties, Eddie Rickenbacker also worked for General Motors, but the Sheridan brand he was involved with didn't really work out. After a long and adventurous life, he passed away in 1973 in Zurich at the age of 82.

And before you would ask about the guitars...yeah, they were cousins.

Source and photo credit: Auburn University Digital Library and David Salafia.

In an unexpected move, Los Angeles' Petersen Automotive Museum is undertaking a pretty dramatic change of direction, selling off about a third of its collection to make improvements and renovations. That's not the unexpected part. The unexpected part is that the museum will now focus more on motorcycles and avant-garde French cars.

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James Watt has been called one of the most influential people in history, and his role in improving the steam engine to make it the primary force behind the industrial revolution is beyond dispute. He was also a bit of a sourpuss who took out a patent to prevent the building of steam motor cars.

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While at the F-Type launch, Jaguar designer Wayne Burgess told a story that I can’t believe I’d never heard before. It has to do with former GM VP of Design Bill Mitchell, the Mako Shark concept car, and a taxidermied shark head. The story may be apocryphal, but who cares? It’s too good.

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Meet the Leyland Force 7V. Just 56 were built in 1974, but only 10 survived the scrapping when the company went bust. Due to the 4.4-liter V8 up front and five proper seats, that makes me a sad panda. This would have been great.

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