YOU AND YOURS

Back in the days when driving was an adventure, Bill Warner entered his then near new 911T in the legendary Cannonball road race, which crossed America. Fast forward 46-years and he still has the very same 911 and the vivid memories of racing sea-to-shini

Billwarner andhis Cannonball 911T

Words: Matt Stone Photography: Billwarner/

You may recognise Bill Warner as the Founder and Chairman of the Amelia Island Concours d’elegance, held each March on that charming resort island in Florida. This is true, but M. Warner is a man of so many more facets and dimensions: he’s a husband, father and grandfather. A Jacksonville area businessman. A charitable philanthropist. Military veteran and reservist. An accomplished sports car racer of considerable talent, and an enthusiastic car collector. Noted motorsport photographer and author. At a recent concours dinner, he was introduced as “enthusiastic,” “benevolent, ” “genuine,” and “magnanimous,” true descriptors all.

And in November of 1971 he did what every clear-thinking, married, father of one with a pregnant wife travelling salesman would do – cashed in his chips and bought a brand new Porsche 911 – for $7900. “Like everyone else, I really wanted a 911S” Warner wistfully recalls, “but an S was nine grand, and who could afford that?” So he “settled” for a modestly yet meaningfully equipped carbed, 140bhp ’71 911T coupe. The white over hound’s-tooth and black coupe came with chrome steel 912 style wheels and hubcaps, plus air conditioning, and that was about it. Warner justified this purchase for his growing family thusly: “I figured I’d do most of the driving, wife Jane would sit in the passenger seat, my son would fit in the back, and the new baby and babyseat would also be fine in the back.” Great plan – until they learned that Mrs. Warner was carrying twins. Bill got to keep his “sports car toy” and Jane had a new Buick stationwagon within a few weeks.

The 911 was intended as Warner’s every day driver, which it was for several years. He travelled extensively around the South as a salesman, in the water system and filtration business, putting about 30,000 miles a year on the car in the first three years he owned it. He kept it mostly original, but ultimately elected to build a larger, supposedly hotter engine for it: the original 2.2 was replaced with a built up 2.7.

Being a sports car and racing enthusiast and photographer, living and working in and around Jacksonville, Florida, home to places like Brumos Porsche (and Racing) and guys like Hurley Haywood and Peter Gregg who became his friends, Warner found himself in the middle of the racing scene in the mid1970s; not far from either the Daytona or Sebring raceways. He went go karting one night with Haywood, Gregg and Car and Driver magazine Editor Brock Yates, one of the founding fathers of the (even by then) legendary Cannonball Baker Sea-to-shiningSea Memorial Trophy Dash underground unofficial cross country race; Yates and Dan Gurney, aboard a Ferrari 365/GTB-4 Daytona, won the first Cannonball in 1972. The event was contested again in the fall of 1973, this time with Yates in his own modified Dodge Challenger, finished second. And during the Warner/gregg/haywood/yates karting grand prix session, Yates announced that he intended to run another Cannonball.

The rules were relatively straightforward in concept if not always execution: get yourself, your companions and your vehicle of choice from the famous Red Ball Garage in Manhattan, New York City, to the Portofino Inn hotel in Redondo Beach, California, as quickly as you can, by any route you choose. Vehicle choice was absolutely open, and over time has run the gamut from MGBS to surfer style vans (packing jury rigged massive fuel tanks) and motorhomes, to Cadillac limos to Ferraris. The magic number to accomplish all this seemed to be 36 hours, a time that was ultimately met and beaten often. The other unwritten rule was not to injure or kill yourself or anyone else along the trail. What measures needed to avoid America’s Highway Patrol officers was up to each team. Most teams left the Red Ball in the middle of the night to avoid NYC’S choking commuter traffic, with the

intent to arrive mid-afternoon in Socal a day and a half later with the same goal in mind. Rather than a barrage of screaming cars all blasting into Manhattan at the same time, the vehicles pulsed out at staggered intervals, and the team that made it across America in the least total elapsed time was the winner.

As the events were run in mid-november, some careful route planning was required in order to avoid snowy weather, rain and other conditionally mandated road closures. Google in those days consisted of a paper folding map of the US Highway system, a yellow marker and a flashlight. Drivers would usually alternate every few hours so the other could attempt to catch a little sleep. Fuel and pit stops needed to be quick and efficient. Shopping bags full of peanut butter sandwiches, candy bars, Vitamin C tablets and Thermoses filled with coffee stood for provisions. No internet and no cellphones – although Citizen’s Band (CB) radios, and police scanners were common. Over time, there were all female teams, semi-ringer Proam teams consisting of varying numbers of enthusiast participants and heavy hitter racers (kinda like, oh, Dan Gurney and the late Tony Adamowicz). Over time, fast cars have proven successful, but even more so are teams that run smart, “fast steady” speeds, avoid the law and mechanical breakdowns, and get better than awful fuel mileage.

Warner, being a racer himself and a general lover of travel and adventure, thought this all sounded like fun, and Yates opened the door. Bill had never been to California, and thought this a novel way to get there, so he steeled himself to enter the third, 1974 running of the Cannonball.

What to drive: the answer was as obvious and close as his driveway, his trusty 911 of course. Warner picked up a 31 gallon plastic “endurance” spec fuel tank (from the George Stone/george Drolsom Carrera racer) for the trunk of his 911 – figuring this would up his highway fuel range to as much as 600-miles per tank. He added a Carrera style rear ducktail, and a Porsche Motorsport front spoiler, plus a set of ancillary driving lights. A lot of thought went into wheel and tyre selection, Bill ultimately deciding to stick with his stock steelies and relatively narrow tyres; for in the Cannonball high speed cornering prowess isn’t a high priority, but straight-line smoothness, a lower aero profile, and less drag contributed to an easier drive and

What to drive? The answer was obvious: His trusty 911