1949 Talbot-Lago T26 Grand Prix

This 1949 Talbot-Lago T26 Grand Prix sold for $557,000, including buyer’s premium, at the Bonhams & Butterfields Quail Lodge auction in Carmel Valley, California, on August 14, 2009.

I recall a wonderful old line that a 1960s Rolls-Royce was the ultimate example of what spare-no-expense engineering and exquisite workmanship could do to a 1938 Packard. In many ways, the Talbot-Lago GP car is a similar story. Even in its glory days it was an antique, a spectacular representation of a completely outdated concept. Allow me to elaborate.

In the 1920s, there was no single organized championship in racing; a country or venue would stage its “Grand Prize” (Grand Prix) event and set its own rules for what was eligible. If you won that race you had won it, but little more. In 1931, the predecessor to our FIA (called AIACR-don’t ask) organized a points system leading to the “European Driver’s Championship” and standardized the eligibility rules. The first few years were formula libre, but in 1934, what was called the “750 kg Formula” was established. This formula basically said that you had to weigh 1,650 lb (750 kg) and have wheels on four corners, but little more.

Only the Germans had a chance

The Third Reich quickly saw the opportunity to show its dominance and spawned what we know now as the “Titan Cars” of the mid-1930s-the Mercedes W125 and Auto Unions-which have become the icons of that era. They were intimidating cars with enormous supercharged engines and huge wheels surrounding large cigar-shaped bodies, with a driver almost lost inside. Mercedes managed to generate over 600 hp, a stupefying amount in those days. Nobody other than the state-supported German teams had a serious chance, and it was a terribly dangerous sport.

Faced with this reality, the AIACR changed the rules for 1938 to limit engine size to 3 liters supercharged or 4.5 liters normally aspirated. The Germans responded with the Mercedes W154 and the Auto Union D-type, fundamentally the same cars as before, but with more sophistication and 3-liter engines making almost as much power. Though Alfa Romeo and Maserati made some attempts to compete, the “big-bore” championship was more or less ceded to the Germans and became a show as much as a race.

We all know how the war turned out, but we sometimes forget that while industrial England and Germany were effectively destroyed in the fight, France and Italy suffered far less catastrophic damage to their manufacturing bases. As a result, when the war was over and thoughts turned gently back to auto racing, the French and Italians were in a position to do something about it.

Competition just after WWII was minimal

There were no resources for innovation, though; they all went back to building what they had before the war. The Italians built Voiturettes (Alfa’s Type 158 Alfetta, Maserati’s 4CLT) and Talbot-Lago built their Titan clone, the T26C. If you wanted to race in the early post-war years, those were your options, other than finding a pre-war car to run. The competition in those years was, to be charitable, minimal; just showing up and finishing often guaranteed a good result, even in the big races. As the only big-bore cars in the field, this was Talbot-Lago’s glory time, and for a few years they were the cars to beat. They were still a heavy, clumsy, pre-war concept that depended on horsepower and endurance, though, and as soon as the light, quick competition started to get its act together, the T26Cs were relegated to also-ran status.

So what are we to take from this 60 years down the line? As a piece of mobile sculpture, the Talbots are fabulous. As a romantic, nostalgic daydream, they’re great. As an evocation of history and past greatness, they’re wonderful. As a driving experience, they’re, well, they’re an experience not easily forgotten. First, get in. You sit way down inside a cavern, with your feet higher than your bottom, your knees straddling the transmission, the huge (7:00×19) rear tires inches away from your shoulders, the steering wheel looming large and high in front of you.

Start it up and don’t forget the earplugs-this thing thunders! Somehow it’s more than noise; it’s a rumbling that shakes your entire body and soul, threatening unbridled power and frightening performance.

Now, take a deep breath, put it in gear, drop the hammer, and, and. well, it’s just not that fast. This thing weighs 2,100 lb, has 260 hp at 4,500 rpm, and has tires your old Ford 4×4 would be embarrassed to use. It accelerates pretty well in a straight line, but with four huge rubber gyroscopes on the corners, it really doesn’t want to change direction easily or stop in a hurry. By later expectations, it drives like a truck; a decently prepared Lotus Eleven will drive circles around it on anything but the fastest tracks.

Absolute performance isn’t the point here, though. What this is about is the pre-war Talbot-Lago Grand Prix experience in an attainable, moderately bomb-proof and reliable package. If the engine has been properly built and isn’t abused, it will last forever; the Wilson pre-select gearbox was originally built for London buses, for heaven’s sake; you think this can hurt it? There’s nothing on this car that can be described as delicate (or probably even subtle), but its attraction is undeniable.

It’s not really a ’30s Grand Prix bolide, but it’s bloody close, and it is something ordinary mortals can own and drive. That counts for a lot.Talbot-Lago T26 Grand Prix have generally traded in the $600k-$850k range in recent years, a fraction of what a “real” 1930s GP racer would cost.

This 1949 Talbot-Lago T26 sold for less than I would have expected for such an apparently well-restored example, but auctioning cars like this is always a gamble. Unless the price reflected something I don’t know of, this time I’d say the buyer prevailed. Well bought.