State Of The Stack: 12 Sep 2022

Radicals, Ferraris, open threads, guest writers, oh my!

probably not what they meant by “be the grey man”

This is my Substack. There are not many like it, if my recent conversation with Substack reps is any indication. The average Substack has between ten and a hundred free subscribers for every paid subscriber, whereas here it’s about a 55/45 split between free and paid. I was told that I shouldn’t write more than twice a week, but my readers have generally indicated they have the time and ability to read more than that. I was also told that a regular publishing cadence is essential — that’s not borne out in the irregular, binge-y way most of my readers use the site. Last but not least, I haven’t done much in the way of “takeovers”, guest contributions, site vacations, anything like that.

Periodically, however, I want to make a sort of omnibus status report and open discussion available to everyone. We will call it State Of The Stack and it will be the only place that non-paid subscribers can comment. There is essentially zero moderation anywhere but here, I’ve yet to delete or edit a comment, but on this free page I’m going to be a little more active. Fair warning.

Typically, State Of The Stack will contain five topics split between housekeeping, reader interaction, notifications of a real-world event like a meetup or race, things I’ve recently read, and anything else that doesn’t warrant an individual post. Let’s begin.

About That Ferrari Recall…

We’ve discussed the recent Ferrari recall on these pages in the past. Now Robert Farago has come up with a general summary of the latest thinking for Rienzi Report. In short, it looks like the recall could be meant to address a series of brake failures in Ferraris of that generation, and that Ferrari’s hand could have been forced by a most unusual lawsuit. As with all of Robert’s work, it’s an entertaining read even if you, like me, have little concern for those poor downtrodden Ferrari drivers and their chances of surviving to the next round of stock bonuses.

Guest Posts Are Almost GO…

I am sitting on a stack of outstanding guest posts. This is what I plan to do with them: I’ll be publishing them on the platform but not sending an email. That way I won’t be spamming people who just signed up to read what I have to say. So if you are looking for great additional stuff to read, start checking the site once in a while to see what’s on the main article feed. The first one will go up Wednesday.

By the same token, if YOU are sitting on a guest post for this site, I’d like to see what you have. All viewpoints welcome, even if they are in direct opposition to mine. Maybe especially so, in that case.

Believe It Or Not, There’s Something At Hagerty I’d Like You To Read

life really sucked before we had pronouns in the bio

Prior to my departure from the insurance company, I’d conceived a pet project to showcase the considerable abilities of various writers in my department. This idea, tentatively titled Hagerty Digital Annual, worked like so: Each writer would build a long-form story meant to be read and savored at leisure, and we would assemble these stories into a special perfect-bound booklet to be handed out at the various Hagerty-owned events.

My boss, Larry Webster, didn’t like that one bit, as the Joker might say. He suggested that I was trying to outshine his magazine, or words to that effect. As if my little group of ducklings could ever equal the mighty talent of Brett Berk, Elena Scherr, John Stein, and all the other venerable contributors to that respected publication! Truthfully, I had no intent of competing with the magazine. I couldn’t even tell you what was in the magazine; I never read it during my employment there, although I believe I still have a stack of both Hagerty Drivers Club and Radius Magazine beneath a set of used Hankook race tires in a garage, protecting them from dangerous ground moisture.

My motive was stupid-simple, in a way that was perhaps difficult for acrobats of corporate maneuvering to understand. I wanted my people to have a chance to write something that would feel more permanent than a Web story. Something they could proudly distribute to their family and friends: see, I wrote this, you can hold it in your hands and read it. The internal opposition to such a thing always mystified me. Developing and nurturing the next generation of talent should always be the primary focus of any senior person in journalism, and I had always expected that I would leave my job at the insurance company well before my sell-by date in order to let someone else run with the opportunity.

(I should note out of honesty that my plans to abandon my post in favor of the young lions were most often expressed in the form popularized by St. Augustine: Da mihi castitatem et continentam, sed noli modo, or “Give me chastity and self-control —but not yet!”)

Needless to say, the project did not survive my departure. Not in that form, anyway. Some of the work is now appearing on Hagerty under a new content tag called Great Reads. I leave it to the reader to judge whether any of it could possibly measure up to magazine quality, but I’m particularly charmed with a story about the Smith Compressor by Associate Managing Editor Grace Houghton. For more than a year, I personally harassed Miss Houghton about getting this story done. Having read it with attention, I believe it will justify yours, too — as will the other Great Reads, all composed with thought and care by legitimately gifted writers.

Radical Race Report, Redux

Nothing like losing your job, breaking your ribs, and building a house all at the same time to keep your delicate little sports racer off the track — but the smaller of my two Radicals appeared briefly last Saturday for an SCCA race. Wearing a new and unpainted nose, the PR6 managed to jump up a few places and set a 1:34.745 laptime on the longer Club course. I almost broke said nose on a remarkably cautious Formula Continental, as you can see in the above 57-second video.

I’m on “pre-owned” tires and only able to use four of the six gears in the old Hayabusa ‘box due to broken teeth, so there’s room for further improvement, both in the car and in my driving. I’ll have it out once more in September, as part of a PCA day I’m coaching with a member of the ACF Trackday Club. Just like people really win on MTV, people really do get trackday coaching in the Trackday Club. It may look a little more handsome by then, or not, as the case may be.

My more serious Radical will make its competition debut in October. I won’t have driven it on-track prior to the qualifying session, which should really give me a chance to crack under pressure like a day-old Easter egg. Oh well. I keep telling myself that it’s just like my PR6, only with 445 horsepower instead of 150. What could go wrong?

Me And The King

imagine being naturally handsome enough to not need $600 shirts; I sure can’t

When it comes to the death of Queen Elizabeth, I’ll leave the commentary to serious outlets like Insider and BuzzFeed, but there has been one odd aspect of the Royal Succession from my perspective: I now have the same shirtmaker as the King of England. Not just the company, mind you; the very same fellow.

Turnbull & Asser's retail director Steven Quin became a royal warrant holder on 23rd April 1999 at the direction of Prince Charles. He is the only person who fits Charles for shirts. Five years ago, I met him in the basement around the corner from the main retail store on Jermyn Street and went though a fitting. For a prole like me, buying a few $600 shirts is a Really Big Deal, and Mr. Quin treated the fitting with all the ceremony I could want. This was doubly hilarious because his serious customers probably do five or six figures’ worth of business with him annually, while I have a total of maybe two dozen T&A shirts, most of which are the cheaper fabrics.

One consequence of being between homes and recently injured is that I no longer fit comfortably in my T&A shirts, something I found out in the parking lot of a recent job interview as I struggled to fit my sausage-like self into a slim-cut green paisley model with 3-button cuffs and Prince-Of-Wales collars. By winter I’ll be back to my pattern.

You can say a lot of bad things about Prince Charles but he has been a steadfast champion of the British tailoring industry. Turnbull&Asser actually taught him how to run a sewing machine and he patiently posed for all sorts of publicity stills a while back, putting his own shirts together. The modest survival of bespoke clothing on Jermyn Street and Savile Row is largely due to the King.

All of that being said, if you’re a car guy you might want to skip T&A and go see Budd on Piccadilly Arcade. Think of them as the Radical to Turnbull’s Ferrari: a much smaller company, with far fewer clients, doing more specialized work under rougher conditions. T&A will take six months to ship you a shirt, assuming you’re not the King of England, but the rascals at Budd will lengthen a sleeve in the time it takes you to eat a cheeseburger, all while carrying on in thick accents about street racing and women of low morals. As my mentor Edward Tomarken once noted, “It is the privilege of the aristocracy to scandalize the middle class.”

That’s all, folks!

Later on in the week we will have one guest contribution and two of mine, so keep your ears open and your email box ready for spam!