I BLAME MY father. There probably aren’t too many five-year-olds whose bedtime stories included the exploits of Fangio, the tragedy of Levegh and the heroics of Moss and Jenkins. Because of my father, names like Cisitalia, Osca and Bizzarini were early additions to my vocabulary. Now, filling my peripheral view as if beamed forward through time from a 1950s La Sarthe circuit pit lane are Aston Martin’s DBR1 and Jaguar’s D-Type – so beautiful, so raw, I could bust a spleen. But I’m getting way ahead of myself…

Whether it’s climbing Mount Everest or riding a unicorn, most people have a bucket list of things to do before they die. For car enthusiasts, going to Le Mans or attending the Goodwood Festival of Speed are musts. The Geneva Motor Show topped my own such list, followed closely by the annual event that graces the banks of Lake Como in northern Italy. The Concorso Internazionale d’Eleganza dates back to 1929. Abandoned for almost three decades, this most prestigious of car shows was revived in 1995 and has blossomed since 1999 under the patronage of BMW.

For photographer Inga and myself, the plan is to collect a car from Munich – in this case BMW’s sleek 640i – and drive it down to Como in time for the concorso’s public day at Villa Erba. Yes, as press, we could have chosen the Villa d’Este’s invitation only, black tie gala dinner and fireworks affair, but we wanted the everyman experience.

MUNICH IN THE REAR-VIEW MIRROR

With a few twirls and clicks on the iDrive controller, I set the sat-nav for Como and head out of Garching, Munich on the A96 towards Memmingen. Noting the intermittent autobahn speed limits is made easy by BMW’s brilliant sign recognition system. The welcome five-strike circle that signifies an unrestricted section pops up on the head-up display and I let loose the 3.0 litre turbo. We’re doing 202kph when a G-power M5 Hurricane looms large in the mirrors. Like respectful juniors, we make way. Near Lindau, we switch onto the A14 towards Bregenz and enter Switzerland, merging onto the A13 at Chur.

Exiting one of the numerous tunnels of the Autoroute Suisse 13, we spot the old road as it skirts the Sufnersee lake and criss-crosses beneath us. Hairpins, topaz-hued water, trees, valleys and snow-capped mountains – a photo setting made in heaven. Inga insists, really insists, so we take the off-ramp at Sufers and backtrack, revelling in the curvaceous, contour-hugging side road like we’re driving the Alpine stage on an early Need For Speed PC game. For the first time I select Sport via the Driving Experience Control toggle switch and listen as the transmission awakens, the engine revs leap, the steering firms up and the 6 Series drops two dress sizes around you. BMW’s variable ratio steering means your hands stay locked at 10-to-2. It’s just so wieldy, jinking left to right with alarming ease and making Inga’s occasional U-turn requests an absolute cinch. We find we’re not the only ones preferring this alternative route as first cyclists, then bikers and, finally, a wedding procession of 26 decorated cars pass by, each one hooting cheerfully.

With the twisty road and exquisite setting, it’s been a profitable photo call all round and we head back toward the motorway. I’m thoroughly enjoying the effortless torque of the turbocharged engine and the easy, relaxed gait of its eight-speed auto as we fly by signboards for Splügen, Hinterrhein and San Bernardino. We take the lengthy tunnel this time, but an off-ramp labelled San Bernardino Pass goes into my memory bank for the return leg two days hence.

Still in Switzerland, we pass the towns of Mesocco, Lostallo and Bellinzona before crossing Lake Lugano and finally entering Italy near Chiaso. The trip meter reads 474km as we arrive in Cernobbio and the welcome site of the Grand Hotel di Como.

From the narrow roads to the impossible parking bays to the toned ladies walking by, it seems everything in Italy is tight. After checking-in, I’m so busy negotiating the concrete barriers of the basement garage that I nearly crash into the BMW Turbo concept from 1972 – a priceless one-off in burnt burgundy with just its ends dipped in Day-Glo orange. It is spectacular and still so significant. All parking appears reserved for Aston Martin, Zagato and the BMW Group. I, quite literally, squeeze the 640i into the last available unmarked bay, grateful for the Top View imagery and sonic sensors. A security camera captures the bizarre footage of my contortion routine as I escape the clutches of the parked BM and head on up to reception passing a DB9, a Rapide and a Cygnet prostituto. Why the heavy Aston presence? We’d find out soon enough…

SUNRISE IN COMO

It’s 7.20am on a Sunday. True to form, I turn down the hotel room’s suggestion of a mini-jog around the lake. ‘We’ll take the car, thanks.’ The town of Como awakes to the characteristic varied surface rumble of steadily increasing traffic. Inga waits for a red car hoping to add a smidgeon of colour to a monochromatic church scene. It’s in vain, though, as every car in Europe seems to have skipped the paint shop. We move on, bisecting a peloton of casual city cyclists. At the harbour we drive up onto the Piazza Cavour and Inga sets up lights. I’m expecting the Carabinieri to intervene at any moment, but perhaps they’re sleeping-in today.

Back at the hotel, our concierge confirms the Villa Erba is a short walk up towards Cernobbio centre. Once garnished with press badges and saddled with bulky printed memorabilia, we’re in and are immediately ushered onto a red carpet leading towards an open hall celebrating 40 years of BMW motor sport. Front and centre is the sinister scowl of the latest, all-carbon DTM car, flanked by an E30 DTM racer and the 2010 M3 GT2 that won at Nürburgring that year. Behind is the BMW-powered McLaren F1 GTR as driven by Messrs’ Laffite, Soper and Duez at Le Mans in 1996. Yet more red carpet leads outside, ending only where lush green grass begins. Maples, like friendly sentinels, stand guard providing shade and leafy serenity. A bandstand awaits its musicians. We have half an hour before the public is allowed in and I plan to make good use of it.

Fascinating as many of them are, the motor cycles off to the left can wait, ditto the 25 bubble cars. I’m far more interested in the impromptu Zagato display unfolding before my eyes. An Aston DB7 and a Bentley GTZ are split by the Milanese firm’s newest collaborative creation, the BMW Zagato Coupe. So that explains the ‘reserved for Zagato’ signs back at the hotel’s garage. Revealed for the first time to special guests at the Villa d’Este just two days ago, the Italian Beemer is a rebodied Z4 packed with every traditional Zagato design cue: double-bubble roof, sharp shoulder lines, seriously kicked-up rear haunches, side vent detailing and glassy Kamm tail. New details are the chamfered top-ends of the cartoon-like ‘snoozing’ kidneys. This is a very convincing Zagato that speaks Italian too fluently for a German car. Probably not the new Z4 Coupe then, but truly intriguing nonetheless.

The famed Lago di Como beckons and I’m pulled towards it and the automotive crown jewels that line its banks. A row of Ferraris including a 250 California, 250 LM, Daytona, 400 Superamerica and an unmissable 250 Gran Turismo Omoligato (GTO) halts proceedings. It’s not just the incredible style and raw emotion these cars project, but also the pristine condition they’re in that boggles my mind. It’s as though every one of them left the factory that very morning. I also appreciate that unlike many other classic car events, where you’re likely to see a hat-full of Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwings, here, there’s just one. Just one Lamborghini Countach LP400 (the 28^th Countach ever built) and one Miura, plus one Jaguar D-Type adding to the exclusivity. This place just feels special. Heck, even the parking lot outside featured an Alfa Romeo SZ.

Right now I’m mentally drooling as my eyes caress the Aston Martin DBR1 while my ears listen-in on the conversations of fellow admirers. ‘Yesterday it was a bit kings speech, but it sounded back on song today’ offers an elegantly attired man, old enough to have been at Le Mans back in 1959 when this very car finished second behind Carroll Shelby and Roy Salvadori in the sister Aston. ‘Well it must have been properly warmed up’ is the tort response from the DBR1’s minder.

Just then a Porsche 917K in quintessential Gulf livery and sporting an incongruous GoPro affixed to the roof, cuts through the trees around the Ferraris and parks up alongside the Lambos. A distinguished gentleman, complete with houndstooth driver’s cap, clambers out in a performance so surreal it might have been McQueen himself, though appropriately older and less dead of course. After hanging a ‘Ferrari driver’s view’ sign from the rear spoiler, he seems unsure about where to stash his bowling bag for the day, eventually settling for the cockpit’s seat. ‘I don’t suppose there’s much luggage space in that?’ I venture. ‘Actually, the rules at the time stipulated that provision be made for luggage,’ replies quaint cap man, pointing out two storage areas aft of the rear wheels. ‘But things tend to get rather hot in there.’ It turns out he’s Mark Finburgh and he’s just driven this priceless racer out on the public roads leading from the Villa d’Este a few kilometres away.

I ask about the GoPro. ‘Oh, that’s not my camera,’ he’s quick to assure. ‘No, some bloke stuck it on as I left the hotel.’ Saying I came all the way from Cape Town just for the day seems to grant me more of an audience with this affable character, and easy conversation ensues. Mark tells me his was the No.21 car in the Le Mans movie and that it now lives in Stavelot, Belgium, but the fanatical neighbourhood noise regulations means it only gets onto the track two or three times a year. He goes on to recount a few choice stories. ‘A guy came up to me and says “I remember that car. My dad drove me around in it.” “Oh, and who’s your dad?” “Steve McQueen.” Well, you can’t top that, so I bid him farewell and head on over to where the concept cars are gathered on the gravel driveway in front of the Villa Erba.

The Lexus LF-LC makes a great starting point with its slick lines and sharp details. Baby LFA? Yes please. Just as with the classics, the Italian coachbuilders are out in force displaying several concepts. Apart from Zagato’s BMW, Giugiaro’s ItalDesign has entered the Brivido, a gull-winged four-seater full of sumptuous, techy luxury. I chat to ItalDesign PR Umberto Giorio who says they’ve done 1500km in the Brivido, proving the hybrid concept is not all pie. Bertone and Pininfarina are here too, although their cars – Jaguar B99 and Cambiano, respectively – are sadly hidden beneath a tree away from the villa. Stuck between those two is Alfa Romeo’s glorious 4C.

More often than not, the concorso throws up a surprise début and this time there are two, BMW’s ‘sleeping kidneys’ Coupe and Aston Martin’s Project AM310. If this is the new DBS, as rumoured, then they need only change the incongruous rims. My favourite, though, is Ford’s Evos. I say ditch the crazy doors, badge it Capri and build it. Croatia’s fledgling supercar maker Rimac has entered its all-electric contender, perhaps more as a promotional exercise in this company.

All six prototypes wore a slightly different but equally delicious shade of red. There was one interloper though, the Rinspeed Dock + Go, a smart fortwo saddled with an additional, wheeled DJ deck. Painted silver and quite frankly more like a failed high school project, it looked seriously out of place. That the dude manning the decks chose to pump ACDC’s Highway to Hell at this most elegant of affairs only added injury to insult.

Still, you have to appreciate the exceptional public access to the concepts. At a regular motor show you’re forced to deal with pressing crowds, cordoned off turntables and cars smothered in a bevy of beautiful, mostly vacuous females. (Okay, that last bit may not be a negative.) As a way of promoting the event, organisers have opened up the vast expanses of the Villa Erba to the public. Given the reasonable €14 (R150) entrance fee, around 6000 people are expected. While certainly less hoity-toity than the Villa d’Este, amongst the casually clad crowd are a number of couples dressed like it’s 1982 and they’re off to the opera. The atmosphere is laid back with the band now providing suitably forgettable background music for the exhibitors to fall asleep to as they recline in the event’s distinctive red deckchairs.

Two bottles of water heavier and €3 (R30) lighter, we head back to the vintage cars. It’s much busier now, but still nothing like the mad-ass scramble of, say, the Frankfurt Motor Show. Despite the sense of inner-circle cliques, there’s more social interaction here. Time and the open-air ambience help give this place a rhythm and an elegance all of its own. I spot a father standing by the Miura SV/J, passionately schooling his two young sons on this most beautiful of Lamborghinis. It’s also great to see loads of moms pushing prams, but I’m saddened by the lack of teenagers in the crowd – a missing generation, perhaps too digitally distracted to care.

I distract myself with a few more of the delights on offer. The sublime bodywork of Albrecht von Goertz’s BMW 507, the interior of Merc’s 300SL and the exquisitely chromed exhaust detailing of a supercharged 1937 Cord 812 become indelibly etched into my cerebrum. Equally unforgettable is Alfa’s 6C 1750 GS from 1933 that wins both the public’s Coppa d’Oro Villa d’Este and the jury’s Best in Show awards.

A GRAND PARADE

Skipping the earlier categories, we join the crowds gathered at the grandstand as they erupt in enthusiastic applause to a 1956 Ferrari 250 GT Zagato ambling onto a tyre track-soiled red carpet and is paraded before the judging panel.

Announcer Simon Kidston swops his Eatonesque English for Italian that is as silky as the twelve-cylinder Ferrari 250 GT Spider California that then glides into view. It is driven by Andrew and Belinda Pisker, who, incidentally, looks about as elegant as is humanly possible when holding an iPad straight above your head.

Simon says the Ferrari 400 Superamerica due next has come all the way from New York City, a long journey rewarded with victory in the romantically titled La Dolce Vita class. Lamborghini test driver Valentino Balboni tears up the carpet, revving like a school kid. His explosive entrance is greeted with massive applause more befitting of a rock star. But then this is Italy and he is piloting the Miura.

The much anticipated Heroes of Le Mans cars are up next and the D-Type Jaguar is introduced as ‘one of the most important English racing cars ever’. But it’s the DBR1 that wins the class. Arch enthusiast, juror and former Pink Floyd drummer Nick Mason concedes the Aston is one of the few cars he would still like to own. Then it’s the turn of the 1962 Ferrari 250GTO and Simon again looks to Nick for comment. ‘What makes the GTO so special?’ ‘It’s undoubtedly the greatest all-rounder. You can win Le Mans with it one week and take it on a picnic the next.’ Mason should know, he owns one. ‘Have you ever made a better investment?’ ‘Absolutely not. Buying the GTO makes me look very clever.’ And, as a footnote to underscore the event’s prestige, Kidston reveals there are three GTO owners in the audience. A Ferrari 250LM, followed by a 1968 Ford GT40 Mk.3 and Finburgh’s 917K complete the Heroes line-up. Quite befittingly, BMW’s 40-year-old Turbo concept ends the classic parade.

All that’s left is to announce the winner of the Concorso d’Eleganza Villa d’Este Design Award for concept cars and prototypes. With the victor being decided by public ballot (I’d voted for Martin Smith’s Evos), it’s hardly surprising that the fabulous Alfa Romeo 4C wins. I didn’t mind. Out from under the dappled light of the trees, its lickable cherry red paint and taut, voluptuous lines are achingly desirable. The amble back to the hotel allows time for a little contemplation and I find it easy to see why BMW associates itself with the elegance and historical significance of this impressive event.

LEAVING LAKE COMO

Morning arrives early and we leave Como’s roadworks-enforced maze, eventually joining the A2 towards Bellinzona. Just after Mesocco the road heads back up into the Swiss Alps. We pass motor bikes and tour buses in significant numbers before deciding that top-ups of caffeine and fuel are necessary. I grab the most expensive nozzle and pretend to know what I’m doing. Nothing. I re-insert and pull the trigger. Again, nothing. Damn, how do you zero this thing? Feeling several eyes focusing in on me, I’m about to swear when a biker drops his motor cycle not 20 metres away, distracting onlookers from my ineptitude. Finally, the pump zeroes and I deposit 40 litres of 98 super unleaded while the bank deducts R710 from my cheque account back home.

Inga goes to work while I knock back two espressos near a church in San Bernardino villagio. Seven Swiss Francs later, we hit the Pass, a snaking ribbon of driving delight that rises to a height of 2066m above sea level, topping out alongside a partially frozen lake. Photographic nirvana once more. On the way down, a 2012 Chev Camaro Convertible appears behind, V8 roaring in challenge. I hit Sport, tap the shifter into manual and attack the hairpins with as much zeal as is prudent. BMW’s variable steering again proves its worth as I watch the Camaro drift wide at every switchback, the driver clearly struggling to get the nose turned in.

Sixteen hairpins later we rejoin the A13 and relax for an hour or two through Switzerland, past the Principality of Liechtenstein, across Austria and onto the German ‘ow-to-barn’. Twenty minutes-worth of unrestricted blacktop – some of it at 235kph – knocks half an hour off the sat-nav’s ETA. Soon, we’re back in Munich returning what is without doubt BMW’s best GT car. If you ever get the chance, this is one drive-to-a-dream event that you’ll not easily forget. I certainly won’t