The engine is in place, and while it is missing a couple of little details (round black knurled knobs on the valve covers, wing nuts on the air filters), it's looking good. I decided against plumbing in the carbs and fuel pumps but will revise that decision when I get around to the Barchetta.
Interesting that the upper radiator hose takeoff is in the middle of the block above the clutch housing. The kit doesn't include a lower hose, which would appear to connect to a flange on the front cover.
Also interesting is the exhaust manifold, made up of three pairs of two pipes; when I worked on Jags and Austin Healeys, it was clear that two sets of three pipes was best from the point of view of the typical firing order for a six: 1-5-3-6-2-4. With cylinders 1, 2, and 3 on a common exhaust branch, you get even pulses (1, then a pause for 5; 3, then a pause for 6; 2, then a pause for 4). With sets of 2, you get 1, then pauses for 5, 3 and 6; then 2 and a pause for 4. By the time the 250 Lusso came around they had understood the issue and had changed to three-into-one groups of pipes.
Of course, triple carbs have the same problem. SU and Stromberg carbs, with their variable venturi system driven by engine vacuum, really didn't like this, and Jags and big Healeys ran better on a pair of big SUs than on three smaller ones. Fitting triple carbs only made sense if they were double barrel Webers, with each cylinder getting it's own barrel. The 166 engine here has three carbs, with each barrel feeding two adjoining cylinders. It's hard to tell from the kit, but it looks like the Lusso, which also had three carbs, had a series of plenum chambers so that no carb barrel ever gets solicited twice in a row. Of course the 3-litre racers all had a full complement of six double-barrel Webers, solving any carburation imbalance problems with lots of lovely aluminum bits.
On to the chassis. Nothing unusual for 1950: transverse leaf and A-arms at the front, solid axle on leafs at the rear with no lateral location such as a Watts linkage or Panhard rod. Shocks are lever type units, probably friction rather than hydraulic. Steering is probably worm and sector or worm and gear, with the rack and pinion being some years in the future. All this mounted on a ladder frame, whose major advantage over conventional ladder frames would appear to be the fabrication from hollow tubes rather than C or H channels. I'm guessing it would be fairly truck-like by modern standards, although miles better than, say, a 1950 Chevy, due largely to significantly lower weight.
Of course, having a completed chassis meant I was very tempted to get wheels on it and verify the stance. Easier said than done, however, as each wheel consists of six photoetched spoke sets, three turned aluminum rings, a turned aluminum hub, a white metal spinner, and a drum brake made up of a white metal backing plate and a turned drum.
What a gorgeous little car!
The body, by Carrozzeria Touring, is absolute perfection.
Shades of a certain British sports car which later fell into the hands of a guy named Carroll ...
Sadly I'll never have the $30 to $50 million needed in the unlikely event one of the six cars made in 1949 through 1951 ever turns up at auction.
What a tiny little car! It makes the Europa look enormous, and if you've ever tried squeezing yourself into a Europa, you'll know what that means.
Interior and body are next next. The interior will be straightforward, but I usually have to psych myself up for final assembly on these kits, because of the very high probability of a major screw-up. Stay tuned!
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