The test came in the darkest hour of the night. Somewhere in the black middle of Nebraska, a Mercedes SUV struck a deer. Sutton Morris and Michael Torres could not swerve to avoid it, not while towing such precious cargo: a 1977 Ferrari 512 BB, due at the start of the Overcrest Rally in the Driftless Area of the Midwest. The SUV was heavily wounded and leaking coolant, but not down. They limped it to a nearby Walmart parking lot, where Sutton bought bungee cords and fabric from the store and jerry-rigged the turbocharger cooling system in place. Sleep be damned, the fix stuck, and they trudged on.
Something about this rally makes people spend sleepless nights preparing their cars and then drive them more than halfway across the continent to get to the starting point. Clearly, it is about more than just cars and driving roads.
For the Morris Motors crew, the ordeal had begun with a dream: purchase a 512 BB and prep it for Overcrest, not just so the owner, Tony, could fulfill a lifelong dream of owning one, but so the shop could care for and enjoy the car along the way. Michael and Sutton Morris, the father-and-son team behind Morris Motors in Walnut Grove, California, had carried vivid memories of these cars since they first encountered them decades ago. The path to the start line tested their mechanical ingenuity as much as their fortitude and sleep schedules. With the rally closing in, the engine had to come out of the car at least four times, each time to address a different issue. There were oil leaks that raised big mechanical concerns, and precious little time to implement the right fixes. Sourcing spare parts sent the team on side quests of varying lengths around the Sacramento Delta, and some pieces had to be fabricated on short notice, but they never gave up. With hours to spare, the car was reassembled, test driven and loaded up to be towed through the night to the Midwest. Sutton and Torres, one of the shop crew, tag teamed the drive starting at midnight. That is how they came to be crossing Nebraska in the dark.
They arrived at the rally start just in time, and the car still needed some last-minute tinkering at the skilled hands of Michael Morris to run right. But the Ferrari was there. New plugs had just gone in, so the car spent the afternoon of registration day with both clamshells up, being adjusted for ignition timing and cooling. By evening, it was dialed in.
“If this was a show car, it would not have come,” said Michael Morris. “We wanted this particular example because it’s got patina; it has been used. And that is also why it was purchased by Tony, because it can continue to be used and enjoyed.” The journey to get to Overcrest had been challenging beyond measure, but for the Morrises, accomplishing it was a dream come to fruition.
Out on the rally route, the early morning rays of the sun filtered through the woods lining the Mississippi river, illuminating the deep valleys and steep limestone bluffs of the Driftless, as the striking blue Ferrari carved along the winding riverside, singing its glorious 12-cylinder symphony while others stayed within touching distance. On its heels were air-cooled Porsches, E30 BMWs, some American muscle and even a pair of Citroëns having the time of their lives. The VWs, the elderly Datsuns, the Mk2 Jag and the stately Mercedes sedans were not far behind. Lines blurred between price tags, rarity, historic significance and sheer pecking order to bring together a truly eclectic collection of cars reliving their glory days. Some were first timers, some builders, a few were high-mileage daily drivers, and everyone else in between. In this moment, the joy they all experienced was in parity.
As a photographer who has participated in many vintage car rallies over the years, and a first timer at Overcrest, I watched the rally foster a culture of community and inclusivity that is remarkable in highly organized and selective events. Any interesting vehicle was game. No allegiance to brands; no bar too low. That was abundantly clear when I saw a miniscule VW parked next to a Citroën SM, flanked by rally-bred Italian exotica. The mix was “mostly” vintage. Bring your trusty old Fiat with its humble roots, park it next to a legendary Lancia Stratos, and you are right at home.
Small town America added to the charm of it all. The rally was not a shootout from point A to point B. It encouraged you to slow down and take it all in along the way. The change of pace allowed you to make stops to explore local cuisine and history, and even strike up meaningful conversations with the locals, many of whom were ecstatic to see a vintage car gathering. One of them invited us into his garage out of the blue and shared stories about his builds over the years. When a Porsche 914 shattered its windshield in a deer encounter of its own during the rally, this same local essentially came out of retirement, reopening his auto glass shop to replace the windshield. The car was back on the road the same day.
As the drivers got chatty, I got to work positioning my camera to capture this eclectic gathering of automotive potpourri: the ornate mechanical details of an Italian engine bay, the patina on a well-worn BMW 2002, the artistic flourishes of an Alfa Giulia. Everyone had a story to tell, and what are vintage cars, if not boxes of stories embellished by every rock chip and rally sticker on them? You could witness new friendships being forged in real time, as parts were shared and wrenches turned with the reassuring promise of, “Here, let me help you with that.” Tires rubbing against the fenders? “Here’s my hydraulic jack and a hammer, let’s get that fender reshaped.” All in the spirit of altruism and the shared love of driving.
The 512 BB, meanwhile, is the kind of car that is often turned into a garage sculpture. This one broke the mold. It had changed hands from a prominent Ferrari collector, then remained preserved, untouched and largely forgotten, until it was finally unleashed by an owner who is deeply intertwined with his mechanic friends. With the vote of confidence from Michael and Sutton, Tony opened the car up on every kind of road and terrain in the Driftless Area, from freshly laid asphalt with camber changes that hugged the curves to stretches of gravel and loose dirt. His magnanimity extended to letting me experience the car in full technicolor.
It was everything I hoped a vintage 12-cylinder Ferrari experience would be. The car is phenomenally engaging, dramatic and rewarding when you meet it on the right roads. It has a learning curve to the way you engage with the controls, but it is not at all intimidating to operate. Once you learn to dance with the steering, the pedals and the shifter in harmony, there are very few modern-day cars that could rival the sheer engagement. Skip from 1st to 3rd gear when the engine is cold. Engage the shifter with the right amount of force and finesse while metering the throttle and double clutching as needed. It is not forgiving. Where would the fun be in that? When you get it all right, the whole experience conjures a flow state that is driving nirvana. The quartet of three-barrel carburetors sing the song of the 12-cylinder Gods, egging you on to drive harder and interact more with the car. It has multitudes of texture, filth and spiciness that are desperately missing from the silky-smooth engines of newer supercars. The fireballs and natural pops from the exhaust were added treats owing to the ongoing tinkering by the Morris Motors team. At the end of a few hours of driving, you are worked up and sweating, but blissful in knowing that you have tamed a force that demands every bit of attention and judgement from your senses.
The car completed the entire course of the two-day rally and even put down a respectable time at the drag strip at the finish. By then it was covered in dust and grime, the true mark of a flagbearer of the spirit of driving and adventure. In a humorous gesture at the closing hours, someone on the rally left a replica deer skull in the deep gash the deer strike had carved into the Mercedes. And to make it all even more special, the finish line marked Father’s Day weekend, with Michael and Sutton Morris among the many proud father-son duos out there celebrating it together.
I was not sure what to expect from Overcrest Rally as a first timer. Over the course of three days, everything that unfolded made me firmly believe in the best in humanity, and in true altruism. Experiencing car culture and its tightly knit community at this level was a reminder that it is about so much more than fancy machines and fast driving. Tony and the Morris family showed me that cars are a medium for us to create lifelong memories, especially if you meet at the intersection of driving, adventure, camaraderie and relentless perseverance. They teach us that swapping social media for real-life parking lot meets, GPS for paper maps, familiar roads for the less travelled ones, and relentless pace for a slow life are often therapeutic.
The best way to experience the USA could very well be behind the wheel of an old car that you love, with your best buddies and their cars in company, assuring you that you will all make it through no matter what.
