BLACK-EYED ANGEL

WHEN YOU MEET YOUR CRUSH AND SHE DOES NOT KILL YOU.

- DANIEL PUND

I HAVE NO BUSINESS DRIVING THIS CAR. It’s not mine. I had to convince the company I work for to secure a $1 million insurance policy so I could fulfill this dream. I’ve known since my growth spurt at age 14 that I would not fit in it. As a teen, I was, at best, only a casual fan of rallying, the sole reason this car exists. And anyway, I wasn’t aware of the Lancia Stratos HF until after it had retired from its years of factory-backed competition. This after three consecutive world championships in the mid-Seventies. At that time, I was a much bigger fan of Popsicles than obscure Italian homologation cars. This one is from an automaker that was virtually unknown to the U.S. car market.

Indeed, apart from the fact that I was born only days after the Stratos HF prototype made its public debut at the Turin motor show in 1971, I have no connection whatsoever to the thing.

But there’s no accounting for love. And I have been in love with the Lancia Stratos HF for decades.

For those of you who don’t carry a crush for the Stratos HF, here’s a primer that may or may not explain my own affliction. Note: From here forward, I will refer to the car as simply the Stratos. The HF stands for High Fidelity, and who says that anymore? Anyway, this curious little car is the work of the biggest names in 20th-century Italian motoring. Were it not for the fact that the Stratos did actually get made, you might never believe that it could.

A. Without the common spoiler and roofmounted airfoil, the Stratos's design purity shines through.

B. I will fit in this car. I will fit in this car. I will fit in this car.

C. Only an Italian company could make a red car with orange carpet and tan seats look so damn good.