Michael: Alright Kevin, when I say 'Ford versus Ferrari,' what's the first thing that pops into your head? Kevin: Honestly? Sounds like a corporate lawsuit over who gets to use the color red on a minivan. Or maybe a really, really expensive fender-bender. Michael: That's what a sane person would think. But in the 1960s, it was an all-out war, fought with millions of dollars, monumental egos, and cars hitting over 200 miles per hour down a French country road. Kevin: Okay, that is significantly more exciting than a minivan dispute. Michael: And this incredible story is the subject of our book today, Go Like Hell: Ford, Ferrari, and Their Battle for Speed and Glory at Le Mans by A. J. Baime. Kevin: I've heard this book is legendary, especially since it inspired that big Hollywood movie, Ford v. Ferrari. It really put this story on the map for a lot of people. Michael: Exactly. And Baime is the perfect author for it. He's a master of making history feel immediate, like you're right there in the pit lane. He actually won the Ken Purdy Award for automotive writing for this book, which is a huge deal in that world. He turns what could be a dry history into a high-octane thriller. Kevin: So it's not just for car nerds, then. It's a human story. Michael: It's a profoundly human story. And it all starts with the clash of two completely opposite worlds, embodied by two men: Enzo Ferrari in Italy and Henry Ford II in America.

Kevin: Right, so you have these two giants of the auto world. What was the fundamental difference between them? Michael: It was a difference in soul. For Enzo Ferrari, a car wasn't just a product. The book describes his philosophy beautifully. He once told a reporter, addressing himself in the third person, that Ferrari's aim "is to perfect an ideal, to transform inert raw material into a living machine." Kevin: A living machine. That's not how they talk in Detroit, I'm guessing. Michael: Not even close. To Ferrari, the engine was the car's heart and soul. Its rumble was a heartbeat. He was an artisan, a creator. He came from Modena, a city of absurdly gifted craftsmen, and he saw himself as an "agitator of men," someone who inspired a team to bring a creature to life. He built only a few cars a week, each one a handcrafted masterpiece. Kevin: Wow. So on one side you have this Italian artisan-poet, and on the other... what? Spreadsheets and quarterly reports? Michael: Precisely. At the same time, Ford Motor Company was being run by Henry Ford's grandson, Henry II. It was a corporate empire. The book includes this killer quote from a Ford vice president at the time: "This is a nickel and dime business all the way through. A dime on a million units is $100,000. We'd practically cut your throat around here for a quarter." Kevin: That’s a universe away from a 'living machine.' One sees a soul, the other sees a unit cost. It's amazing they were even in the same industry. Michael: And that's the core of the conflict. In the early 1960s, Ford, led by the ambitious executive Lee Iacocca, saw that winning European races sold cars. So, they decided the quickest way to get into that world was to just buy the best: Ferrari. Kevin: They tried to buy Ferrari? How did that go? Michael: It was a disaster. Ford sent a whole team of executives to Italy. They spent weeks negotiating. The price was $18 million, which was pocket change for Ford. But the deal hinged on one thing: control. Enzo Ferrari was willing to sell the part of his company that made road cars, but he demanded absolute autonomy over the racing division. That was his soul. Kevin: And Ford, being a massive corporation, probably wanted control over everything they bought. Michael: Of course. The final contract had a clause stating that any racing expenditure over a certain amount had to be approved by Ford in America. When Ferrari saw this, he exploded. The book describes him drawing violent exclamation points in the margins. He stood up and shouted, "My rights, my integrity, my very being as a manufacturer, as an entrepreneur, cannot work under the enormous machine, the suffocating bureaucracy of the Ford Motor Company!" And he walked out, leaving the Ford executives stunned. Kevin: He basically told the biggest car company in the world to get lost. That takes some serious guts. Michael: It does. And in doing so, he didn't just kill a business deal. He started a war.

Kevin: A war? That sounds a little dramatic for a failed acquisition. Michael: Oh, it was a war. When the Ford team got back to Dearborn and told Henry Ford II what happened, his response was simple and chilling. He looked at his executives and said, "All right. We'll beat his ass. We're going to race him." Kevin: Wait, hold on. So this entire multi-million dollar, multi-year international racing program, one of the most ambitious in history, was basically born out of a temper tantrum? Michael: Essentially! It was a personal vendetta wrapped in a corporate strategy. Henry Ford II felt personally humiliated by this Italian artisan, and he was going to use the full might of the Ford Motor Company to crush him on the world's biggest stage: the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Kevin: That's incredible. But you can't just throw money at a problem like that and expect to win. You need the right people. Michael: You absolutely do. And Ford knew they didn't have the expertise in-house. So they went out and hired a maverick, a true American original: Carroll Shelby. Kevin: The guy from the Shelby Cobras. Matt Damon played him in the movie. Michael: The very same. Shelby was a larger-than-life Texan, a former chicken farmer who had won Le Mans as a driver in 1959 before a heart condition forced him to retire. He was a genius, a troublemaker, and a smart-ass. And most importantly, he had his own personal grudge against Enzo Ferrari. He believed Ferrari's relentless pressure on his drivers had led to the deaths of friends. Shelby famously announced to the press, "Next year, Ferrari's ass is mine." Kevin: So you have a CEO with a bruised ego and a hired gun with a personal grudge. That's a potent combination. But they still needed someone to actually drive the car to its limits, right? Someone to develop this Ferrari-killer. Michael: They needed a very specific kind of person. And they found him in Ken Miles. The book portrays him as this brilliant, cantankerous, absolutely fearless British driver and engineer. He was the only one who could truly understand and tame the beast they were building—the Ford GT40. Kevin: He sounds like a character. Michael: He was the definition of hardcore. There's a quote in the book where he's talking about the dangers of racing, and he says, "I'd rather die in a racing car than get eaten up by cancer." That was his mentality. He was completely dedicated. He was the soul of the project, the one who could feel what the car needed. He was, in many ways, the tragic hero of this entire story. Kevin: A tragic hero? Why tragic? Michael: Because all of this—the money, the egos, the vendettas, and Miles's genius—it all comes to a head at the 1966 Le Mans race, in one of the most controversial moments in sports history.

Michael: So, fast forward to June 1966. After years of failure and millions of dollars spent, Ford finally has it figured out. They arrive at Le Mans with an army of cars, engineers, and drivers. The GT40s are unbelievably fast. Kevin: And Ferrari? Michael: Ferrari's cars are struggling. One by one, they break down or crash. As the race enters its final hours, the unthinkable is happening: Ford cars are running in first, second, and third place. It's total domination. Kevin: This is it. The moment of triumph. Henry Ford II gets his revenge. Shelby beats his rival. Ken Miles gets the win he deserves. Michael: Not so fast. This is where the corporate philosophy crashes head-on with the spirit of racing. Ford's head of racing, an executive named Leo Beebe, gets an idea. A publicity stunt. He wants a dead heat. He wants all three Ford cars to cross the finish line together for the perfect photograph. A picture of total Ford dominance. Kevin: Oh no. I can see where this is going. Ken Miles is in the lead car, right? He's been driving his heart out for 23 hours. He's about to win Daytona, Sebring, and Le Mans all in the same year—a feat no one had ever accomplished. Michael: Exactly. And he's told over the radio to slow down and let the second-place car, driven by Bruce McLaren, catch up. The book says Miles was absolutely furious. He felt betrayed. But he was a team player. He slows down. The cars bunch up, they cruise the final lap, and cross the line side-by-side for the photo. Kevin: So they declared it a tie? Michael: That was the plan. But the French race officials had other ideas. They informed Ford that a tie was impossible in a 24-hour race. According to the rules, the car that started further back on the grid at the beginning of the race is declared the winner, because it technically traveled a greater distance. Kevin: And which car was that? Michael: The number two car. Bruce McLaren's. Ken Miles, who had led the race and was laps ahead, was officially placed second. After the race, he found his chief engineer and said just one thing: "I think I've been fucked." Kevin: That is absolutely brutal. To do all that work, to risk your life, and have it taken away by a marketing decision. What happened to Miles after that? Michael: This is the truly tragic part of the story. Just two months later, Ken Miles was at Riverside Raceway in California, testing a new, even more powerful Ford prototype. The car inexplicably crashed at over 200 miles per hour and he was killed instantly. He never got his Le Mans win. Kevin: Wow. So Ford got their picture, but at what cost? It feels like such a hollow victory. Michael: It was. Carroll Shelby said he regretted that decision for the rest of his life. It broke his heart. Ford won, but the story of how they won is what makes this book so powerful and so heartbreaking.

Michael: So in the end, Ford achieved its goal. They beat Ferrari at Le Mans, and they did it again the next three years. But as Go Like Hell so brilliantly shows, the victory was complicated. It's a timeless story about the clash between raw, human passion and cold, corporate process. Kevin: And it's a powerful reminder that the 'how' you win can be just as important as the win itself. Ford won Le Mans, but in that final moment, they arguably lost something more profound. They sacrificed the triumph of their most dedicated and brilliant driver for a photo op. Michael: It really makes you question the nature of victory. Is it about crossing the finish line first, or is it about the integrity of the journey? Enzo Ferrari wanted to build a living machine; Ford wanted to build a marketing campaign. In 1966, the marketing campaign won. Kevin: But the story we remember, the one that became a bestselling book and a hit movie, isn't about the corporate win. It's about the human drama, the passion, and the tragedy. It's about Ken Miles being robbed. Michael: Absolutely. The book leaves you with this lingering question about the price of ambition. It’s a story that sticks with you long after you finish the last page. Kevin: It definitely makes you think. We'd love to hear what you all think. Does the end justify the means in a rivalry this intense? Was Ford's decision a strategic masterstroke or a moral failure? Find us on social media and let us know your take. Michael: This is Aibrary, signing off.