It wasn't my father's first car, but the Fiat 127 (the legendary 900C) that passed by home scored more than others. It was my first experience—at least the one I remember vividly—of pure speed. In a 45 hp Fiat 127…
I couldn't have been more than 7-8 years old, and there I was, sitting directly behind Daddy, the driver, as usual, on a beautiful summer's day back from the beach.
We turn onto the freeway and Daddy presses the accelerator… the noise increases substantially, I immediately grab his seat so I can see the speedometer — seatbelts at that point? nahhh —, 120, 130 and it keeps accelerating… 140… it's crazy… the road starts to descend and the needle continues to slowly rotate… the engine screams like there's no tomorrow — speeds up daddy, speeds up —, ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY KILOMETERS HOUR (!) … the speedometer only reads 160 — will we get there? Foot off the gas and we lose speed—ohhhh… There are cars ahead of us. Pity, but it was still intense. Believe...
I give the floor to you. What memories do you have with your daddy's car?
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