Living legend
When it first occurred to me to write to Leonardo Fioravanti to ask whether it might be possible to ‘interview’ him, the most I had hoped for was to send him a list of questions. The subsequent delay in his reply had caused me to feel it was perhaps unlikely to happen.
Imagine my pleasant surprise when he replied to say the delay in responding had been due to his commitment to an exhibition of his life’s work at the National Automotive Museum in Turin.
Somewhat emboldened by this, and realising that I would shortly be in Europe with a spare weekend at my disposal, I dared to ask whether he would consider meeting me at the exhibition. It would be the perfect place to conduct an interview and, to my delight, he agreed.
They say that ignorance is bliss, but as I began composing some questions, part of me began to have second thoughts about the size of the task that I had taken on.
That suspicion was well-founded but the experience was exhilarating. Having met the man, who gave me an incredibly generous four hours of his time on a personal guided tour of the entire museum exhibit, and having subsequently read his book, Il Cavallino Nel Cuore, I found myself completely intimidated by his life and achievements. I would give it my best shot but I believe a mere magazine article could never really do him justice.
The more I learned, the more fascinated I became, and the more I realised that I had met a man who had arrived at the perfect place, and at the perfect time, to fulfil his life’s dreams and ambitions. How often does that happen, and how often are any of us lucky enough to meet such a person?
As I retraced Leonardo Fioravanti’s fateful journey from Milan to Turin in my rented Fiat Cinquecento, maxing it out along the autostrade in order to make
