Maserati Quattroporte

Meeting with a enthusiast

- by Peter Edenberg 2019-02-24

The Maserati Quattroporte 1965 on the driveway

Everyone around me thinks I’m a car nerd, usually because I am more interested than they are when it comes to four-wheeled, gasoline-scented beauties from 30, 40, 50, or 60 years ago.

I have always seen myself as someone who is interested in cars, never as a hardcore car nerd or a truly passionate enthusiast.

It became very clear what the difference is between being interested and being passionate when I asked to photograph Fredric Gustafsson’s amazingly beautiful 1965 Maserati Quattroporte.

We got in touch via social media after Fredric saw one of my photos of his Maserati Quattroporte, taken at the regular Monday car meet at Årsta Viken in Stockholm.

After a few weeks, we set a date. Standing in his garage south of Stockholm early on a Saturday morning, I realize with a smile to myself that this is a true car enthusiast in front of me.

Beside in the garage stands the small cousin

Within just a few minutes of conversation, the door to the Italian car world is kicked wide open. I can’t stop looking at the elegant lines of the Maserati Quattroporte—or Tipo 107, as it was called at the factory. Beside it stands its smaller cousin, a Moretti 850 SS.

Fredric speaks in a calm and matter-of-fact tone about the Moretti and the Italian car industry, noting that in the ’60s they might not have been very good at math. How could a brand expect to make a profit by producing just 200 cars of each model while offering 10 different models in its lineup?

After the initial chat, we get into the Quattroporte. When Fredric turns the key, the eight cylinders respond immediately, and we glide out of his garage. He continues to talk about the small details of Italian car design, such as the engraved ashtrays or the seven beautiful rocker switches for fans and lights in the center console.

The Quattroporte makes us lay down on the ground

After the introductory chat, we get into the Quattroporte. When Fredric turns the key, the eight cylinders respond immediately, and we smoothly roll out of his garage. He continues to talk about the small details of Italian car design, such as the engraved ashtrays and the seven beautiful rocker switches for fans and lights in the center console.

This Italian piece of art, now almost 50 years old, handles bumps and imperfections gracefully with its independent front suspension and De Dion rear axle. This setup later has both of us lying on our stomachs out in the open, as Fredric explains that the brake calipers are mounted next to the differential and that the shaft has universal joints on both sides of the drive shafts.

All this while a family with children walks past, wondering why two grown men are lying on the ground talking.

The De Dion axle was only used on the first generation of the Quattroporte. For the second generation, it was replaced with a solid Salisbury axle.

Maserati recycle their cylinder head

Time passes, and the images are piling up on the digital memory card. Fredric continues to tell me how every Quattroporte was handmade from scratch, that it used the same cylinder heads as the racing machines—which can be seen in the extra, unused spark plug holes—and that it was the fastest production car of its time.

The sunlight is perfect for a photographer this day. The clouds lie like a thin, transparent blanket in the sky, softening the sun’s rays.

The gray Grigio Milano paint shines beautifully, and it feels like the oppressive summer heat has finally given up once and for all.

We slowly start to pack up as I learn that this Maserati Quattroporte was imported to Sweden in the ’80s and fully restored in the ’90s.

I take a deep breath and ask, “Can I drive it back?”

Fredric answers as if he had been expecting the question: “Yes, yes, sure.”

The Maserati Quattroporte want to run off

The wooden steering wheel settles into my hands, and the grip is perfect. The clutch is exactly where it should be, and the brakes are rock solid.

I don’t dare to push it on the curvy roads, but it feels like the 260 Italian horses could easily burst free.

Once again, this robust car swallows bumps and imperfections all the way back to the house, passing boat clubs and golf courses. It feels a bit like taking a driving test with Fredric sitting next to me. Even so, I’m smiling the whole way.

We park outside his house. The “driving a classic Maserati” rush is just beginning to fade when I help push one of Fredric’s project cars into the garage. Later that day, the Quattroporte is driven into winter storage.

the wooden steeringwheel in a maserati quattroporte

Now I will probably be committing a sin in the eyes of an Italian car enthusiast—I have always been more interested in and drawn to German cars. That has been the story of my life until I met a true car enthusiast like Fredric, who explained all those small details and things I would never have discovered on my own.

Thank you, Fredric, for opening the door for someone who was simply interested in cars, and who has now developed a deeper appreciation for Italian automotive art—and gained a much clearer understanding of the difference between being interested and being truly passionate.