Favorite racecars: Andrew Crask's picks

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I suppose it’s only natural that your favorite racecars tend to center around the era in which you first became interested in the sport. For me that means the end of the 1970s, which happened to coincide with increased science and engineering input into the aerodynamics and, therefore, the look of the cars in F1 and Indy cars in particular. For some, that led to a perceived diminution of artistry, but for me it created a lasting fascination in seeing how art and science mixed.

I was especially taken with the Lotus 80 grand prix car, intended to be another technical leap forward from the more classically gorgeous but widely copied 79 with which Mario Andretti drove to the world title in 1978. Diverging from the familiar from every angle, the 80 took ground-effect theory to extremes by dispensing with conventional front and rear wings and turning the entire chassis into an aerodynamic device. Decked out in tastefully subdued Martini branding amid traditional British Racing Green, for me the car’s style points were huge – before its performance shortcomings led to aero quick-fixes that transformed its original dart shape (LEFT) into something more like a gilled salamander by the time it raced. These didn’t help much, though, and the 80 was soon shelved in favor of its already dated predecessor. Shame.

The Chaparral 2K IndyCar launched in that same final year of the ’70s had a similar impact on me, especially in person in its original pearlescent yellow Pennzoil color scheme that glowed spectacularly in the sunlight and emphasized the car’s curvaceous lines. A more traditional bright yellow bedecked the 2K for Johnny Rutherford’s romp to Indy 500 glory in 1980, and the car was still winning the style wars in its final year of competition in 1982 (RIGHT).

NASCAR stockers have always held more appeal for me for their raceability than their visual flair, but a spectacular exception to this was the Plymouth Superbird of 1970. Developed specifically for NASCAR competition, this highly modified version of the Road Runner model was Plymouth’s answer to the Charger Daytona fielded by Dodge the previous year, and built on that car’s no-holds-barred aero development featuring faired nosecone and dramatic tailwing.

The Superbird took the streamlining process further still, and I remember being awestuck by the rare sight of a production version on the road. At the track – especially when resplendent in the “Petty Blue” of Richard Petty’s No. 43 version – was there was ever a NASCAR racecar that looked faster standing still?

Road car models modified for racing are always going to be a compromise, but perhaps the easiest transition came when GT race teams talked McLaren Cars into rethinking its initial decision not make a track version of its ultimate car for the road, the McLaren F1. From an awesome BMW V12 engine that actually had to be detuned for competition, to its carbon fiber monocoque chassis, the F1 looked ready to win Le Mans from the showroom floor, and it did – overall – at the first attempt in 1995. Too bad the winning car (which benefited from JJ Lehto’s epic driving in the wet) featured a literally dull black color scheme that minimized the car’s eye candy. The Gulf-backed version driven to fourth place still gets my heart racing, though.

But for sheer motorsports chutzpah, I still can’t resist the Porsche 917. Pretty much any 917, really, from its Le Mans editions to the power-mad Can-Am iterations (LEFT). But, for me the style champ has to be the 917L “Hippie Car” driven by Gerard Larousse and Willi Kauhsen at the 1970 24 Hours. They didn’t win, finishing a dutiful second behind Porsche’s first overall Le Mans winner, Hans Hermann and Dickie Atwood in the Porsche-Salzburg 917K. But the groovily colorful swirls over their car’s swoops and curves perfectly played up the over-the-top nature of this most exuberant of racecar designs.