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This is live coverage

of the 1959
24 Hours of Le Mans.

We've reached
the halfway point

and so far witnessed
Aston Martin number 5,

driven by Carroll Shelby,

making great gains
in the last hour.

If he keeps this pace up,

he could have
a chance at the...

He's coming in.

He's coming in.
Let's go, let's go.

- Tires!
- Let's go, let's go.

I know you're tired,
but come on,

let's make this fast.

Move, move, move!

She's running a little hot,
but we're good.

Tires are still gripping.

Fire! The fuel! Fire!

- Shelby, it's you!
- Grab that blanket!

Get off me! Off!

You okay?

Fill the tank!

- Shelby, you just...
- Am I on fire?

Am I on goddamn fire?

- No, you're not on fire.
- Fill the damn tank!

- Fill the tank.
- Fill the tank.

Get it ready!

- Where am I, Eddie?
- Two laps up, my friend.

Car's yours.

Go get 'em.

Aston Martin number 5,

driven by Carroll Shelby,
has maintained his lead

as we're nearing
the final minutes of the race.

Shelby.

The checkered flag is out.

The crowd are on their feet.

Shelby.

...takes the title!

An American wins Le Mans.

Shelby.

Carroll Shelby.

What?

This is something
you can't ignore anymore.

Oh, I take the pills.
The pills work.

An elevated
heart rate, say 130 BPM,

sustained even
for a short period,

you run a critical risk
of cardiac arrest.

- I'll race shorter format then.
- That's not gonna work.

Well, I could race NASCAR.
Formula One.

The valve is shot, Shelby.

This is as serious as it gets.

In my opinion, you're lucky
to be sitting here today.

Well, I feel real lucky.

Luckiest guy on earth.

There's a point
at 7,000 RPM

where everything fades.

The machine
becomes weightless.

Just disappears.

Hey!

Watch it, buddy!

And all that's left
is a body

moving through space and time.

7,000 RPM.

That's where you meet it.

It asks you a question.

The only question
that matters.

"Who are you?"

Now, it's von Trips
in the Ferrari,

coming into the corkscrew.
He's braking late.

Hey, I called you
three times,

and you never answer
the phone.

Oh! He sets a new lap record!

I answer the phone
every time it rings.

- No, sir, you do not.
- Yes, I do.

No, you don't.

A month ago, this car was fun.

Now, it won't even start.
And when it does,

it's, "Boom, boom, boom!"

When I pull out
of the driveway,

the dog has a heart attack.

All I'm asking is for
you to make it like it was.

Yeah, you've coked up

the inlet valves
and the plugs.

Nothing wrong with the car,

just the way
it's being driven.

The way
it's being driven?

Too much fuel,
not enough spark.

That's what's
making her misfire.

You wanna run that
by me in English?

All right, sir.

So...

that there,
that is a sport car.

You have to drive her
like a sport car.

If you drive her
like a school teacher,

she'll clog up. All right?

Try changing up
at 5,000 RPM, not two.

Drive like you mean it.
Hard and tight.

She'll run clean.

Are you telling me
I don't know

how to drive my own car?

No.

But if you ask me,
this isn't your car.

Your car's more a Plymouth
or a Studebaker.

You and me have
a problem, buddy?

I don't have a problem.
I had an MG.

Mine ran just fine.

Screw you, you limey prick.

I want my money back.

Oh, behave. I'd give it to ya.

But you haven't paid
for last month's service yet.

This country,
the customer's always right.

You ever hear that?

Yeah. Yeah.

Utter nonsense.

Now remember,
I advanced the timing,

so a smidge twitchy in first.

Get the revs up.
Good lad. Revs up.

Ta-ra.

Another satisfied customer?

Can I help you, miss?

Wasn't that an MGA 1500?

Ah, you know your cars.

Well, I like them.

I love the sound they make.

The way it goes
right through you.

Right.

That vibration.

Mine's the wood-paneled

Country Squire...

across the street.

A real hot rod.

Oh, yeah?

- Is it fast?
- Very.

Wait a second.
What type of girl are ya?

Type of girl who likes
the smell of wet gasoline.

- Oh.
- Burnt rubber.

Oh, what, are you some kind
of a deviant,

are ya?

Well, only since
I married you.

Hey, Gar,
what's going on?

Something's up.

Hi, Lee.

Listen,
he isn't as sure as you are

about the banks.

I'm not as sure
about this...

How's this going out?

- Don, what's going on?
- I don't know.

Mr. Ford,
welcome to the room.

Good afternoon,
Mr. Ford.

Nice to see you, sir.

Shut it down, Mr. Beebe.

John!

All stop.

Hear that?

That's the sound
of the Ford Motor Company...

out of business.

In 1899, my grandfather,
Henry, by God, Ford...

was walking home
from Edison Illumination

after working a double shift.

He was ruminating.

That morning,
he had himself an idea

that changed the world.

Sixty-five years

and 47 million
automobiles later,

what shall be his legacy?

Getting it in the tail pipe
from a Chevy Impala.

Here's what I want you to do.

Walk home.

While you're walking,
I want you to ruminate.

Man comes to my office
with an idea,

that man keeps his job.

Rest of you
second-best losers...

stay home.

You don't belong at Ford.

Shelby!

I see you.
Up and at 'em, buddy.

- Hey!
- Go away.

Come on. You can do it.

Come on, baby.

8:30 a.m., time to roll.

Let's go.

- Let's go. Let's go, go, go.
- Go away.

It's 8:30 a.m., baby.
Time to roll.

Come on.

Hey, Phil.

Hey, Bob.

Is Shelby here?

Uh, it's touch and go.

Shelby, you're up
bright and early.

Well, early bird gets
the worm, Pops.

All right,
who you worried about?

Well, you got Red Faris
and Bill Rushton.

They're all in 327s.

Corvettes.
What about Bondurant?

Bondurant? Well,
he's still driving...

- Mr. Shelby, can I get an autograph?
- ...for Washburn.

Number 614.

- Thank you so much.
- All right, just relax. All right.

We're gonna eat those Vettes
for breakfast.

We're lighter, we're faster,

and that don't work,
we're nastier.

Hey, Dad,
before the race starts,

take your son over
to the Willow Springs...

Hey, Phil. Hey,
take it easy on us today, bud.

You all right?

Paragraph 15.4,

section 2b
of the SCCA standard

dictates all AF class cars
must have

minimum trunk space
of 20 inches by 12 inches

by six inches.

Your trunk doesn't close.

- Ergo car fails standard.
- Wait, wait, wait. What?

Ergo car is disqualified
from said Class A competition.

No, no, no. Look, look, look.

Can I ask you a question,
all right?

When you were a little boy,
did you think,

"When I grow up, I want to go

"to the fabled
Willow Springs Raceway,

"and I want to enforce
paragraph 15.4, section 2b

"of the SCCA regulations
on luggage capacity"?

- All right, that's it.
- Did you?

I'm ruling you and your team
disqualified from this race.

Ah, well,
if it isn't Lance Reventlow.

- Ah, Shelby.
- How you doing, Lance?

- Pops.
- Hey, Lance.

Allow me to introduce
Dieter Voss.

Runs Brumos Porsche
out of Jacksonville.

Oh, I know all about Mr. Voss.

You're having a hell of a
season with that Abarth, sir.

Seeing results
for your Cobra, too.

- Thank you.
- Your guy Miles is impressive.

- Oh, you following Miles?
- Oh, yes.

Well, he was a USAC
road racing champ in '61.

He won
the Pikes Peak Hill Climb.

He was SCCA C-class champion
three years in a row

in this piece-of-shit MG
he built himself.

We heard he's, uh, difficult.

What, Ken? No, no.
Ken's a puppy dog.

Hey, Lance, tell the man.
You've raced against Ken.

Oh, I've driven more
behind him than against him.

Well, Brumos is looking
for a driver

for our number two car
at Sebring.

- Is that right?
- How is that even possible?

Think your guy Miles
can make the grade?

- Oh, well, Ken...
- Is he, mate? Hey!

Jim! Is he putting
his bloody carryall

- in your trunk?
- What?

Discretionary infraction.

Gentlemen, excuse me a moment.

To be honest,
Ken was born for Sebring.

Nothing in there
about my trunk

and your lovely
little portmanteau.

You're holding
the '62 edition of the SCCA.

And you can stick
this bloody sticker

where the sun don't shine.

Hey. Hey, Bill. What seems
to be the problem, Bill?

The problem is that
Bill here is an arsehole.

- No, he doesn't mean that.
- Oh, yes, he does. Yes, he does.

No, he really does think
that Bill is an arsehole.

- I'm just doing my job here.
- Hang on. Bill, Bill, Bill.

In my experience, there is...
Listen to me.

Something like this, there's
always a middle ground.

All right?
Now, Ken's outta line.

And I'm just doing my job.

I understand you are.

You know how he gets
on a race day.

You know that. All right?

But you're not gonna DQ us
over a trunk.

- What?
- You see that guy?

Got his tail up.

Happy, Bill?

Bill, I'll handle it.
I'll talk to him.

I'll talk to him. You just go
and have a great day.

Hey, folks, feeling hungry?

Head on over
to the snack bar...

Shit.

- Bulldog.
- Huh?

You know who that was
I was just talking to?

Bill.

- Before that.
- No.

It was Dieter Voss.

Who's that?

He runs Porsche, Ken.

It's a little German car company.
Maybe you heard of it.

All right.

He wanted you to drive
at Sebring.

But he'd heard
you were difficult.

I thought we felt the same way
about, uh, Germans.

Do you like losing, Ken?

Excuse me?

Oh, you heard me.

I don't lose.

Without sponsors,
you get no car, Ken.

And last I checked,
the professionals

- all have a car.
- Shel!

You cannot win the SCCA
without one.

If you're not winning,
you are losing.

Don't make me lamp this
at your head.

Did you bring your son
all the way out here

to watch you
get disqualified

or just act like a jackass?

Damn!

Well, that answers that.

Peter...

May I help you,
gentlemen?

Uh, yes,
is Ken Miles here?

No.

We need to speak to Mr. Miles.

I'm his wife.

Welcome to the 1963

Willow Springs 100.

Twelve cars will be competing
in this 40-lap race.

Hey, Ken,
what happened to your shield?

New design.

Well, it looks
like we're about to begin.

The cars have completed
their warm-up lap.

The green flag is out...

and they're approaching
the starting line.

Here we go.

Oh, bloody hell.

Ken Miles has fallen behind.

Learn to drive, you pillock!

So, Shelby, do you miss it?

Hey, Sam.

Guy wins the 24-hour Le Mans,
suddenly retires,

starts selling cars.

It just don't make sense.

Well, unless the rumors
are true, of course.

Oh, what rumors
would those be, Sam?

That Carroll Shelby
quit driving

'cause he lost his nerve.

I'm gonna out-brake you
on the next turn, Bob.

Ha-ha! Nice try, Bob.

Nice move from Ken Miles.

Twenty-two laps remaining,

with Phil Hill
and Dan Gurney in the lead.

It's been an incredible day

here at Willow Springs,

and we've seen
some exciting driving.

With just one lap remaining
in this 40-lap race,

we're coming
to the final stretch.

Dan Gurney has been leading
the pack for most of the...

Whoa!

Number 18, Red Faris,

is off the track.

That leaves Dan Gurney
for the lead

followed by journeyman
Ken Miles.

Now for you, Dan.

And they're
coming around the last turn.

Gurney is still in the lead

with Ken Miles
hot on his heels.

Miles is looking
for an opening.

Not yet.

Come on.

Can Gurney hold
him off in the final straight?

Not yet.

Gurney is blocking him out.

Now.

Miles goes for the shoulder.

Nice move, Ken.

They're wheel to wheel.

Come on.

It's Corvette versus Cobra

for the finish.

Yeah! Ha-ha!

Yeah!

An incredible
finish for Ken Miles.

Didn't see that one coming.

He's difficult but good.

Let's give
everyone a hand

for one heck of a race.

That calls
for a nice cup of tea.

I'll put the kettle on.

Hop in.

I'm

H-A-P-P-Y

I'm H-A-P-P-Y

I know I am, I'm sure I am
I'm H-A-P-P-Y

Pops, frame this.

Hey.

We did it.

What's wrong?

The IRS came.

They've padlocked the garage.

All right, Petey.

A couple of years ago...

you said we'd a nest egg.

Correct.

A couple of years ago.

Correct.

So just to be clear,
we are buggered.

Absolutely.

As in totally?

As in, not a bean,
or a pot in which to piss.

Spares, stock, all gone.

Tools. My tools
are locked up in there.

I'll figure something out.

In 1945...

our soldiers came home.

What was the first thing
that they did?

They had sex.

Seventeen years later,

those babies, they've grown.

And they've got jobs.

They've got licenses.

But they do not wanna drive
the same dull 50s cars

that their parents drove.

You see, kids today,
they want glamour.

They want sex appeal.

They want to go fast.

Gentlemen...

it's time for
the Ford Motor Company

to go racing.

We're already
in racing, Iacocca.

NASCAR?

It's... it's regional, sir.

If you go to the movies,
you open up a magazine,

you don't see good ol' boys
from Winston-Salem.

You see, uh...

Sophia Loren...

Monica Vitti.

James Bond does not drive
a Ford, sir.

That's because
he's a degenerate.

See?

God, I'd like to be
a degenerate.

Um, just give me
one second here, sir.

Is this part of it?

Is this going anywhere,
Iacocca?

Just a second, sir.

All right, all right,
that's enough.

Sir, if you just bear
with me...

Turn it off. Lights.

Lee,
in the last three years,

you and your marketing team...

have presided over the worst
sales slump in US history.

Why exactly should Mr. Ford
listen to you?

Because we've been
thinking wrong.

Ferrari.

Now, they have won four
out of the last five Le Mans.

We need to think like Ferrari.

Ferrari makes
fewer cars

in a year
than we make in a day.

We spend more
on toilet paper

than they do
on their entire output.

You want us
to think like them?

Enzo Ferrari will go down
in history

as the greatest
car manufacturer of all time.

Why?

Is it because he built
the most cars?

No.

It's because
of what his cars mean.

Victory.

Ferrari wins at Le Mans.

People, they, they want
some of that victory.

What if the Ford badge
meant victory?

And meant it
where it counts,

with the first group
of 17-year-olds in history

with money in their pockets?

This would take years.

Decades to test and develop...

a race team capable
of taking out Ferrari.

Ferrari's bankrupt.

Enzo has spent every lira
he's got chasing perfection,

and you know something?

He got there.

But now he's broke.

You don't have
to give up racing

to get a bloody day job, Ken.

I think I do.

Now, I've had my fun.

It's time to put food
on the table...

and grow up.

The garage didn't pay
the bills.

Now it's locked up.

Racing doesn't
pay them either,

and I keep winning.

Yeah, because you're good.

But I can't play the game.

I'm not what they call
a people person.

- You don't say.
- And I'm 45 years old.

Do you really think
I'm gonna change?

I'm never gonna get
the good rise.

I started too late.

Because you fought
in the bloody war.

If you stop,
you'll be bloody insufferable.

Let's quit going round
the Wrekin. It's over.

Let's look on the bright side.

Now I can get fat and old,

trim the roses,
and eat pork pies.

Uh, scusa.

Please, no photos.

Prego.

- Relax, will you?
- You gotta understand.

This is like the Mafia
showing up

to buy the Statue of Liberty.

Kind of
the opposite, actually.

The press gets wind of this,
the shit will hit the Fangio.

Lee Iacocca, Ford Motor.

Franco Gozzi, Ferrari.

Journalists?

No, no, Mr. Iacocca, no.

It's our cameras.

Just for history.

Four-liter Colombo engine.

One man assembles
the entire engine

by himself.

Another man assembles
the transmission.

Everything hand-built.

Bellissimo.

Racing Department.

Lee.

That's him.

This merger
between our companies

will form two entities.

Ford-Ferrari,

90 percent owned by Ford,

who controls all production.

Secondly, Ferrari-Ford,
the race team,

90 percent owned by Ferrari.

In order to secure this,
Ford will pay the sum...

Excuse me.

He will need
some time to read this.

Ah. Please.

Ah. Yeah, of course.

I'm looking for the chairman of Fiat!

Agnelli!

I have photographs for you to see.

Pronto.

Pronto.

Yes, I am here.

Do you have something to say?

Enzo maintains full control.

I get the company for 18 million.

All done, thank you.

"Gentlemen,

"only one small question.

It concerns my race program."

"If I wish to race Le Mans,

"and you do not wish
for me to race Le Mans...

"do we or do we not go?"

Look, in that
highly unlikely scenario...

if we just can't agree...

then, yes.
I mean, no.

You are correct.

You do not go.

"My integrity as a constructor,

"as a man, as an Italian,

"is deeply insulted
by your proposal."

"Go back to Michigan."

"Back to your
big, ugly factory."

"Back to your
big, ugly factory,

"making its ugly, little cars."

"Tell your pigheaded boss that

"all his, uh, smug executives
are worthless sons of whores."

Tell him he's not Henry Ford.

He's Henry Ford II.

I'm starving. Let's go eat.

He played us.

Old Man Enzo had no intention
of selling to us.

He used us to up his price...

embarrass our company
and insult your leadership.

It was a bad idea
from the start.

What exactly did he say?

He said Ford makes
ugly little cars,

and we make 'em...

in an ugly factory.

He said our executives
are sons of whores.

About me?

He called you fat, sir.

Pigheaded.

Go on.

He said you're not Henry Ford.

You're Henry Ford II.

I want the best engineers.

The best drivers.

I don't care what it costs.

We're gonna build a race car.

And we're gonna bury

that goddamn greasy wop

100 feet deep

under the finish line
at Le Mans.

And I will be there
to watch it.

Here they come.
Go, go, go, go.

Assholes.

You're really pathetic.

I'm so sorry, girls.

Charlie!

Quit throwing crackers
at the girls all damn day.

God damn it.

Do I gotta deal with this?

It's already taken care of.

Sorry about that.
So, yeah, 289 cubic inch V8.

Far out.

Extensive rework
of AC Ace's front end.

And a stronger rear diff
to handle the torque.

How's she handle
a quarter mile?

Well, now, I'm not saying
you should go drag racing,

but a quarter mile's 13.6.

Yeah.

- Is that good?
- Oh, that's real good.

He sold that same car
three times this week.

- You take cash? Is cash okay?
- Cash is okay.

Yeah, mister, you just bought
yourself one hell of a sport car.

All right.

Tell you what,
I'm gonna... Phil!

I'm gonna pass you off
to my colleague here.

He gonna take care of you.

- Phil, Wyatt.
- Hello, Wyatt.

I'm gonna steal him
for one second.

You take the payment.

Whatever you do,
do not let him take that car.

That's Jeff Blitzer's car.

And Frank Collins'
and Steve McQueen's.

Shit. I forgot about McQueen.

Morning.

Can I help you?

Carroll Shelby?

Maybe.

Lee Iacocca, Ford Motor.

What's with the wrench?

That? Oh, long story.

We are just going from strength
to strength here, Lee.

Terrific sales,
we're killing it on the track.

Now, I know I owe Ford

for that last batch
of engines...

Mr. Shelby,
I can assure you

I'm not here for money

that you might owe Ford
for spare parts.

You're not?

No, I'm not.

Okay.

I'm here on behalf
of Mr. Ford, Henry Ford II.

Suppose, um, hypothetically,

that he wanted his company

to win the 24 Hours
of Le Mans.

You're one
of the only Americans

that's ever done it...

so I'm wondering...

what's it take?

Hypothetically?

Hypothetically.

It takes something
money can't buy.

Money can buy speed.

But it isn't about speed, Lee.

It's not just like
those other tracks

where all you do is turn
to the left for four hours.

To win that race,
you need a car

that's light enough to do 200
on the straightaways

but strong enough
to keep that up

for 3,000 miles
without a break.

Not just the best car

y'all have ever made,
but better than anything

that Enzo Ferrari
shows up with that year.

And that just gets you
to the green flag.

That's where your problems
really start.

Is everything okay?

Go away.

So you're saying
it's challenging.

Look, it's not even
a track, Lee.

Le Mans is eight and a half
miles of country road.

It's narrow, ungraded,
it's rough.

There's no camber
on the turns, no rails.

You gotta do that
for 24 hours.

Twenty-four hours, Lee.

That means night.

Half that race is in the dark.
You can't see shit.

Cars coming up on you
out of nowhere.

Drivers stumbling around
the track, pouring blood.

Maybe one of 'em
is your friend. Maybe...

Maybe he's on fire.

You're exhausted,
you're hungry...

can't remember your name,
what country you're in.

And all of a sudden, you realize
you're doing 198 on a straight.

And if anything goes wrong...

you blow a gasket,
a five-cent washer...

that's it, whole thing's over.

Ferrari wins again.

Just like he won last year
and the year before that.

And the year before that.

Yeah.

It's challenging.

So you don't think...

that Ford Motor Company
can build

the greatest race car
the world's ever seen?

You think that
we are incapable

of winning an event like that?

Even if we had
a brilliant partner?

Even if we wrote a, uh,
blank check?

What I'm saying is,
you can't buy a win, Lee.

But maybe you could buy
the guy who gets you a shot.

A new transmission, axles,
shocks all around,

ditch the body and the tires,
you have yourself a contender.

Anything on this beauty
that does work?

The mirrors are outstanding.

I saw that walking up.

So, what, you just passing
on an evening stroll?

Actually, Bulldog,
I have a proposition for you.

You're gonna build a car
to beat Old Man Ferrari...

- Yeah.
- ...with Ford?

With a Ford?

Correct.

And how long did you tell them
that you needed?

Two, three hundred years?

Ninety days.

All right, so let's just look
at this for a moment.

And for argument's sake,

let's just forget about
the whole 90-day thing.

So let's just pretend you've got
all the money in the world

and all the time in the world.

- I like the sound of that.
- All right.

So...

you think that Ford
are gonna let you build

the car that you want...

the way you want it?

The Ford Motor Company?

Those guys?

Have you ever been to Detroit?

They have floors
and floors of lawyers

and millions
of marketing guys,

and they're all gonna want
to meet you.

They're gonna want
to get their photo taken

with the great
Carroll Shelby,

and they're gonna
kiss your ass

and go back
to their lovely offices...

and they're gonna work out
new ways to screw you.

Why? Because
they can't help it.

Because they just want
to please their boss

who wants please his boss
who wants to please his boss.

And they hate themselves
for it.

But deep down...

who they hate even more

are guys like you,

because you're not like them,

because you don't think
like them,

because you're different.

It's coming straight
from the Deuce.

He's serious.

They're gonna put
real money behind it.

I'll bet they are.

You know why?

Because someone,
and I'm not saying who,

someone has told them that
this is actually possible.

Look...

this Sunday at Cloverfield,

they're launching
the new Mustang.

They're gonna announce
the race program.

Just come on by.

Come take a look.
Listen to my speech.

I'm making a speech.

Bring Peter. He'll love it.

All right, Shel.

See you Sunday.

Whoa.

Dad, look at that.

Huh.

The Ford Mustang.
What do you think?

I think
it's a secretary's car.

I like it.

Oh.

Excu... Excuse me.

Would you,
would you not do that?

Oh. Sorry.

Oh, er, is this,
is this your son?

Yes, it is.

Would you ask him to keep
his hands off the paintwork?

No, no, no, Peter.

You're okay.
Who are you?

Leo Beebe, senior executive vice
president, Ford Motor Company.

Ah.

I'm responsible for the launch

of the Mustang.

Ah! At least now we know

who's responsible.

Don't get me wrong, Lenny.

- Leo.
- It looks fantastic.

But inside,
it's a lump of lard

dressed up to fool the public.

My advice is,

lose the inline-six

and that idiotic
three-speed,

shorten the wheelbase,
somehow lose half a ton,

and lower the price.

Dad.

But even then,

I'd still choose
a Chevy Chevelle.

And that's
a fucking terrible car.

How are we doing
up there, Steve?

There's Cloverfield,
Mr. Shelby.

Oh, yeah.

You mind if I take
a shot at the landing?

Uh...

No, no, no. I mean it.

I flew B-29s
out of San Antone in '44.

You're kidding.

- I did.
- Okay.

Carroll, what are you doing?

- Does he know how to fly?
- Carroll.

I had an instructor tell me,
he said...

Don, I would say it's probably
a good time to buckle up.

"...do everybody a favor,
stay on the ground."

That's a true story.

- Oh, no.
- Oh, shit.

- God damn it.
- Here we go.

This is the car

you never expected
from Detroit.

All right. Let's go.

Not staying, Ken?

Ah, it's a bloody pig
in a poke, isn't it?

Oh, here they come now.

- Wait. Are they crashing?
- Oh, Lord.

Who's the pilot?

My guess, Peter...

it's someone we know.

Everything all right
up there?

Oh, no.

- No!
- Hang on.

Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Tell you what,
that's like riding a bike.

Talk about making an entrance.

- Shelby...
- Good grief.

- Shelby!
- All right!

- Over here. Over here!
- Shelby!

How y'all doing?

Can I get
your autograph, please?

Can I get
your autograph, sir?

Carroll,
this is Roy Lunn.

Old Roy here is developing

the prototype over in England.

Oh, hell, I know Roy.
Good to see you, Roy.

Welcome
to the madhouse, Shelby.

Ford wheeled out the entire
executive committee

for this one.

Hold that thought.

Ah.

Hello, Mr. Lindbergh.

You like that?
Hey, Peter, how you doing?

- Mr. Shelby.
- Good to see you.

Are you building a car
that's gonna beat Ferrari?

Well, we're gonna go
to Le Mans, that's for sure.

And if we get across that finish
line first, we're gonna win.

Carroll, allow me
to introduce Leo Beebe,

senior vice president,
Ford Motor.

Oh, sure. Yeah.
A pleasure, Mr. Beebe.

- Thank you for coming.
- Say hello to Ken Miles

- and his son, Peter.
- Yeah.

- We've, um... we met.
- We, uh... we met.

Yeah.

Didn't we?

So, um, well...

I'll take Petey for some pop.

Good luck
with these guys, Shel.

- Bye, Mr. Shelby.
- See you, Pete.

Don't worry, he's gonna stay.

So, you two get a chance
to talk on the plane?

Yeah. Uh...

Carroll, why don't we just
step this way for a second?

Look, it's pro forma.
It's window dressing.

But there's gotta be
a sense of give-and-take

between you and...

you know.

No, I don't.

The group.

The group?

Senior creatives, Carroll.

Just to make sure
everybody's comfortable.

Well, I'm confused, Lee.

'Cause up until
this moment, right now,

I was comfortable.

You should take a look
out there, Carroll. Hmm?

What do you see?

You know what I see?

I see a machine.

I see 10,000 moving parts,

moving hopefully in harmony,

and it's my job to make it so.

It's my job
to guide you through it.

I am here
to help you, Carroll.

But you gotta trust me.

- Excuse me, Lee.
- Carroll...

do not step on that stage
if you don't trust me.

Please welcome
Mr. Carroll Shelby.

Gotta go.

Shelby... Oh.
Shelby.

What'd he say?

He gets the drill.

Thank you.

Well, if my daddy
was here today...

he'd tell me to sit on down

and leave the yakking
to the college boys...

so, like my cars,
I'll make this fast.

When I was 10 years old,
Pops said to me, "Son...

"it's a truly lucky man

"who knows what he wants
to do in this world.

"'Cause that man will
never work a day in his life."

But there are a few,
a precious few,

and, hell, I don't know
if they're lucky or not.

But there are a few people

who find something
they have to do.

Something obsesses 'em.

Something that
if they can't do it,

it's gonna drive them
clean out of their mind.

I'm that guy.

And I know one other man
feels exactly the same.

His name...

His name is Mr. Henry Ford.

Yeah! Whoo!

And together,
we're gonna build

the fastest automobiles
in the world.

And we're gonna make history,
too, at Le Mans.

- Let's go.
- What?

My name is Carroll Shelby.

I build race cars.

No. Whatever it is, no.

No.

Thirty minutes.

Ah, just... I'm spent.

- I wanna have a bath.
- You're gonna wanna see this.

Trust me.

Thirty minutes. I'll have you
back for meatloaf and gravy.

Thirty minutes.

Yeah.

Bloody hell.

Fresh off the plane
from England.

Now, she's still a little
on the rare side of cooked.

Whoa! Come on.

Interesting.

Well?

It's awful.

It's worse than awful.

Yeah, it doesn't track.

You know,
the third gear is too high.

Torque is not reaching
the road.

Steering's loose because
the front end gets light.

And over 140,
it thinks it's a...

Airplane.

Yeah.

It wants to lift off
and fly to Hawaii.

Anything else?

One sec.

You were back late last night.

Yeah.

- Were you working?
- Mmm.

So, you didn't go anyplace?

What?

Well, I'm asking, did you
go anyplace last night?

Mollie.

It's a simple question.

And I answered, didn't I?

What was the answer?

Is something up, love?

What are you doing?
What are you doing?

You're driving very fast.

Oh, am I? Am I?

Yes, you are.

Bloody hell! What are you...
The hell is this?

Well, you tell me,
'cause I don't know.

Right, slow down!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
Mollie!

Please slow it down,
all right?

You trying to kill us
or something?

- Well, I thought we love this shit.
- What?

- Bloody hell!
- It's a bit of racing fun. No?

No, no, no.
It's not the same at all.

Well, I think it's thrilling!

All right.

Look, I saw you, all right?

I saw you leaving with Shelby,
and I saw you coming back.

Okay. Shit.
Okay, but slow it...

And then all day you've got
that stupid look on your face.

Mollie, slow down.
You're too close here.

Mollie, put on the brakes
right now...

Not until you tell me
what's going on!

All right.
I went to look at a car.

- With Shelby?
- With Shelby.

- A racing car?
- Sort of.

There's a corner coming.
You'd better hold on.

Oh! Are you gonna lift your
foot off at all through this?

No, 'cause I like
a clean racing line.

Slow down!

Okay.

Shel offered me a job.

Ford has a car that they want
to put up against a Ferrari.

- You told me you were done.
- That's it. Now, slow...

I didn't say yes.

Slow down.

You told me you quit.

- I don't understand.
- Get fat and old, you said.

Fat and old.

- I don't understand.
- That's what you told me.

I don't understand.

Are you upset
because I said I was done

or because
I looked at a race car?

Just don't lie to me, Ken.

Don't make it a secret,

what you want
or what you feel,

just because you think
it's gonna make me happy.

Moll, I don't even know
what I feel.

If you do this...

then he better be
paying you this time.

'Cause I can't work any more
hours and look after Peter.

You know,
the IRS have the garage.

I'm not losing my home.

It's 200 a day.

Plus expenses.

Are you shitting me?

But I haven't decided.

$200 a day?

Are you nuts?

Look at this.
This is ridiculous. Here.

So, Shel, grabbing air.

That's the problem.

Over 90, air's getting in,
not getting out.

It's the nose,
I can feel it in the wheel.

Mr. Miles,
if there's a problem,

the computer will find it.

- All right.
- Charlie,

get some Scotch tape
and a ball of wool.

All right. Good, good, good.

So, now let's just, uh,
get all of this junk out.

Right, Pops?

Yeah, yeah. I concur.

Come on, guys.

What are they doing?

Making your car faster.

There. Right there.

Airflow's getting stuck.

I see it.
Yarn blows straight up.

- Yep.
- The front's lifting.

Damn, he's right.

This car wants to go faster.
I feel it.

Any lighter,
we're getting fragile.

Took 70 pounds out of her
in the last week.

She's outputting max horsepower
from this displacement.

So put in a bigger engine.

Where we gonna put it?
On the roof?

Managed to make it
52 pounds lighter

than the NASCAR unit.

All-new aluminum
cylinder heads...

vibration dampeners,
water pump, smaller valves.

We call it the Beast.

Yeah, I can see why,

but how's it gonna fit

without a redesign
of the engine bed?

Well, it certainly
wasn't easy.

Good morning, gentlemen.
Mr. Shelby.

So, you already put that
in a GT40?

I'm afraid we have.

I'll be damned.

Well, it's heavy, of course.

Problems with the handling,
especially the stopping.

- I can show you the data.
- What problems?

Understeers a little, but...

Can I borrow that?

Just a second. Thank you.

Ken!

Ken, perhaps you want to check
with HQ before you test...

What did he say?

We should ask...

Right.

Oh, yes!

Mr. Shelby,
welcome to Dearborn.

What are you doing
at a test track?

You're gonna get Castrol oil
all over that nice suit.

Ah, I wanted to hear
your thoughts

on a few planning decisions.

You know,
personnel for Le Mans.

Well,
it's a hell of a lineup.

Ken Miles, Phil Hill,

Chris Amon, Bruce McLaren.

Hill's a lock.
Amon, McLaren, too.

We're less sure about Miles.

We like Richie Ginther...

Masten Gregory,
Bob Bondurant.

Well, you're gonna want
the best driver for the car.

Understands the machine.

That's Ken.

Oh! Yes!

More of that, please.
More of that, my girl.

I may not get the finer points
of racing, Mr. Shelby,

but I do know people.

Miles is a...

Well, he's a beatnik.
He dresses like one.

Ford means reliability.

Ken Miles is not a Ford man.

Whoa!

Giddy-up! Giddy-up!

What's the lap record
here, Burt?

1:58.

- 1:50 dead.
- A beatnik?

That man landed a busted tank
on the beach at D-Day

and drove it clean
across Europe to Berlin.

A beatnik?

You know, Lee here asked me
a while back,

"What's the one thing
money can't buy?"

I'll tell you what it is.

A pure racer
behind the wheel of your car.

That's Ken Miles.

Well, be that as it may...

we think he may be too pure.

Carroll, do not lose sight
of the big picture here.

"Too pure"?

What exactly does that mean?

It means
he's all about himself.

ABC puts a microphone
under his nose,

perhaps there's a detail
he dislikes,

millions watching...

do you trust him not to
put out the wrong message?

Well, look, you can get
a clean-cut,

all-American poster boy

and stick him
behind the wheel,

teach him what to say.

Shit, you get Doris Day
to drive the car,

if all you want to do is lose.

So, you don't agree with us
on this issue?

I'm saying you gotta trust me
on this one.

Carroll,
with marketing concerns,

that's just not possible.

Put a Ford-type driver
in a Ford car, Mr. Shelby.

That's the Ford way.

Yet another
championship win for Ferrari

as British driver John Surtees

pilots his Ferrari 312...

Ferrari wins.

It's Surtees'
first win since the '64...

Wedges. We have wedges.

Oh, good, good, good.

Perfect.

- 40?
- Yep.

- Hey, boss.
- Hey, Dan.

- Boss, Ferrari just bagged...
- You got a passport?

What's that?

Sign that. Get a passport.

Get it back to me
by Friday. Frosty.

Boys, I'm going to France.

Phil.

Ken, can I get a word?

Oh.

Can I take this?

Hey.

Do you know why Ford named it
the GT40?

Why they put that "40"
on there?

- No.
- Regulations. All right?

We gotta be 40 inches high

to make the ground
clearance requirements.

No more, no less.

They measure it
before every race.

Problem is,
that with that height,

there's too much drag
under the car, all right?

So, we have a solution.

Wedges. We put wedges
in the suspension...

You're not coming next week.

You're not coming, Ken.

We're taking McLaren,
Chris Amon, Phil Hill...

and Bob Bondurant.

It's Ford's call.

It is their opinion that
you are not a good image,

so you cannot drive
their race car.

And putting aside the fact
that you made that car

whatever the hell it is...

and you're the best man
I got behind the wheel...

I'm gonna reroute
the oil line.

If there's spillage,
it could drip

onto the rear nearside disc.

Ken...

Tell the boys

to watch their pace
come sunrise.

The, uh,
the gearbox will overheat.

Ken, the race
is starting soon.

Want it on the radio?

Not unless you do.

...of the race.

There they are.

The Maserati going
into the Esses,

but it's still
the number 2 car,

driven by Chris Amon.

In third place
is the number 1 Ford

that is driven
by Bruce McLaren.

A tremendously fast start
for the Ford GT.

3:43.4 lap
for car number 2, a Ford.

I think
it's a little bit quick

for this stage of the game.

Little bit quick right now.

Racing too hot.

This could go down

to the last hour or so,
don't you think?

It could,
but the probabilities

for a finish like that

in a 24-hour race
are awfully small.

Another Ford
has come into the pits.

It's being pushed into
the pits by the mechanics.

Head gasket.

The car's not a moon rocket.

Trailing
Bob Bondurant in fourth,

car number 7.

Leading number 20, Ferrari.
Michael Parkes.

So, we have Ford running one,
two, three. How about that?

Too soon. Surely too soon.

One has
to really be respectful

of the mechanism with any...

Here's the big story,

the lead Ford, driven
by Richie Ginther, retired

with gearbox trouble,
and the new leader...

Gearbox. I told them.
Be gentle with it.

...and his
partner Lorenzo Bandini...

...who was one of

the winning drivers last year.

Who's there?

Again, we're back,

speaking to you live
from Le Mans, France.

The 24 Hours of Le Mans,
the Grand Prix of Endurance,

the 33rd renewal.

What's that
you're listening to?

Oh, some race over in France.

Exciting?

I'm not really paying
much attention.

However, Phil,
there was one time in 1933,

when the lead changed hands
three times.

It's not exactly champagne...

...but it's got bubbles.

Thanks, Mollie.

There's a difference
between Ford and Ferrari...

Grace.

Yes, sir.
I will send him right in.

Thank you.

Mr. Shelby,
Mr. Ford will see you now.

- All right.
- Are you still willing

to stake your reputation
on this guy?

This way,
Mr. Shelby.

Mr. Ford.

Gentlemen.

Shelby.

Give me one reason
why I don't fire everyone

associated with
this abomination

starting with you.

Well, sir...

I was thinking
about that very question

as I sat out there
in your lovely waiting room.

As I was sitting there...

I watched that little
red folder right there...

go through four pairs
of hands...

before it got to you.

'Course that doesn't include...

the 22 or so
other Ford employees

who probably poked at it
before it made

its way up to the 19th floor.

All due respect, sir,

you can't win a race
by committee.

You need one man in charge.

Now, the good news,
as I see it,

is that even with
all the extra weight...

we still managed
to put old Mr. Ferrari

exactly where we want him.

Did we?

Oh, yes.

Expand.

Well...

sure, we hadn't...

We haven't worked out
how to corner yet.

Or stay cool.

Or stay on the ground.

And a lot of stuff broke.

In fact, the only thing that
didn't break was the brakes.

Hell, right now,
we don't even know

if our paint job will last
the whole 24 hours.

But our last lap...

we clocked 218 miles an hour
down the Mulsanne Straight.

Now, in all his years
of racing...

old Enzo ain't never seen
anything move that fast.

And now he knows...

without a doubt...

we're faster than he is...

even with the wrong driver...

and all the committees.

And that's what
he's thinking about

while he's sitting
in Modena, Italy...

right now.

That man is scared to death...

that this year you actually
might be smart enough

to start trusting me.

So, yeah...

I'd say you got Ferrari
exactly where you want him.

You're welcome.

Come here.

See that little building
down there?

In World War II...

three out of five US bombers
rolled off that line.

You think
Roosevelt beat Hitler?

Think again.

This isn't the first time

Ford Motor's gone
to war in Europe.

We know how to do more
than push paper.

And there is one man
running this company.

You report to him.

You understand me?

Yes, sir.

Go ahead, Carroll.
Go to war.

Thank you, sir.

You were right.

It's the gearbox.

We ran too hot.

Three out of four
of 'em broke.

The rod blew on the other one.

We're going back, Ken.

They told me I had
"carte blanche" this time.

I looked it up.
It's French for "horseshit."

I know they're gonna squeeze
our nuts any way they can

soon as they work out how.

Well, the, uh...

ice cream's melting.

All right. Hey, Ken.

You want me to apologize?

Mmm.

You want me to beg?

I don't know.
Let's try it out.

Let's, uh, see how that feels.

Ken, I'm sorry.

Sincerely.

Mmm.

Do you have any idea the kind
of shit that I had to eat

just to get four wheels
on that grid?

No, you don't.

'Cause you don't deal
with any of that stuff.

Now knock it off, Ken.
We got work to do,

and this car ain't gonna
build itself.

Okay. All right.

God.

Come here.

- Bloody car salesman.
- Shit!

Come on.
Now you're gonna get it.

Get off me!

Stubborn son of a bitch.

God!

- You just look...
- Right.

- Yeah, now.
- You...

- Ow!
- You all right?

Shit!

Now you're gonna get it.

Come here.

Done.

Mollie, darling.

Yes, love?

Can I get a fizzy pop, please?

Yes, love.

You want one, too, Shelby?

- No. No.
- Uh, yes, please, Mollie.

No. He can get his own.

Just for me, please.

How long has that been?

Oh, it's gotta be three
or four years, at least.

Right. Riverside.

Yeah.
SCCA Divisional Championship.

You broke my finger.

What's that nippy bloody thing

you do under the arm,
that thing?

Yeah. I call that
the Llama Bite.

You name it?

Where'd you learn that?
The Girl Scouts?

- What? You wanna go again?
- Here you go.

You're an angel.

Thank you.

My pleasure.

Right. Well, I'm about to go
to the grocery store.

Anything you think
you'll need?

Um, ice cream.

Ice cream would be good
and, uh...

bread.

Right.

No, I'm good.
Thank you.

Thanks, Moll.

You still take those
for your ticker?

Only 'cause
they're so delicious.

- Up yours.
- Oh, go to hell.

Come on.
Giddy-up. Giddy-up. Giddy-up.

Phil! Here's the one
for you, mate.

Dino, come here.

Well?

There's still lag
when I hit the gas.

Let's get rid of
the vacuum secondaries.

Charlie, get a Holley carb.

We're gonna rebuild
the throttle assembly.

Three weeks to Daytona,

and it still feels
like a bag of squirrels.

Brake heat.

That's a whole different
ball game.

All right, Petey,
let's go for that ride.

What are you doing?

You see that crack?

That's my marker
for turn eight.

What, to slow down?

Uh, brush the brakes
and downshift.

But you'll be going
150 miles an hour.

Yeah.

So how do you see it?

You're going fast,
but as the car speeds up...

everything else slows down.

You don't do that.

You do this. Right?

And then you see everything.

Do you set other markers?

Indeed I do.

Lots of them.

Yeah, 'cause
you can't just push

the car hard
the whole way, right?

That's right. You have
to be kind to the car.

You feel the poor thing
groaning underneath you.

If you're gonna push a piece
of machinery to the limit

and expect it
to hold together,

you have to have some sense
of where that limit is.

Look out there.

Out there is the perfect lap.

No mistakes.

Every gear change,
every corner...

perfect.

You see it?

I think so.

Most people can't.

Most people don't even know
it's out there, but it is.

It's there.

You want some ice cream?

- Yeah.
- All right.

Come on, then.

Do you know
what this marker is?

- What?
- That one.

Pull my finger.
You'll find out.

How much longer
before he comes in?

Uh, well, we change drivers
every four hours,

- so about 10 minutes.
- No, hang on.

You're saying Beebe
is 100 percent in charge now?

Yes,
and he wants Miles gone.

Look, it's personal
with this guy.

And, yes, he has the leverage
to stick it to you.

He and the Deuce
are flying there tomorrow.

He's gonna tell you in person.

Now, all he is hoping for

- is that you lose your cool.
- Uh-huh.

It's time to let this go.

You cannot destroy
the whole thing.

Not for one goddamn guy.

- Sure, I can.
- Well, why?

'Cause while
we're here talking,

he's out there
getting it done.

Oh, shit!

He's got brake fade.

Ease off!

Carroll?

- Get him out!
- Peter!

Go on. Go inside.

Just stay there.

- Get Ken!
- Ken!

Get him out!

There he is!

Ken!

I can see him.

- Ken!
- Come on.

The brakes.

Let's just rip out
the damn engine. All right?

We can't use it
if we can't stop.

You know,
the brakes would last longer

if we slowed down a bit.

Wouldn't that defeat the whole
purpose of the extra power?

You know,
I thought the whole point

was to win the damned race.

Maybe we could design
a new assembly.

Instead of swapping out
the pads in the pits...

swap out
the entire braking system.

Rotors included.

Put in a fresh one.

Wait, wait, wait, Pops,

are we allowed to do that?

I don't know.
I don't read French.

Well, brakes are "a part"
like any other, right?

We are allowed
to change parts.

Yes.
Will we have time to do that?

I don't know yet,
Charlie.

I'm gonna take him home.

All right.

Sort this shit out.

I will.

Have you ever been on fire?

Uh, well, no,
it's never happened to me.

But the suit's
flameproof, see?

It, uh, keeps heat out.

Yeah.

But Lewis-Evans
burned to death

in the Moroccan Grand Prix.

He had a flameproof suit on.

Mm-hmm. Yeah, but, um...

See, he got stuck.

He couldn't breathe.

So, as long as you get out
of the car, you're okay.

Dad got out.

- He sure did.
- Peter!

Bye.

See ya.

- You all right?
- Yeah.

What's wrong with you?

And don't be telling me brakes

or me almost kicking
the bucket out there.

It's something to do
with the suits, isn't it?

It's under control.

What is it?

You know how we talked about
how you do your thing,

I do my thing?

- This is my thing.
- Really, Shel...

Just trust me, Ken.

You got a plan?

Absolutely.

It a good one?

It's high risk.

How high risk?

Extremely high risk.

Well, that's something.

- Glad we had this talk.
- Anytime.

Mr. Ford, this is a surprise.

Apologies for the unannounced
intrusion, Mr. Shelby,

but when a man pays $9 million
for an automobile,

he ought to at least
be able to see it.

Well, that sounds
reasonable enough.

Uh, Shelby, could I have a word?

Sure.

- In private?
- Uh, yeah.

That would be preferable.

All right.
Hey, Phil.

You wanna take care
of Mr. Ford here?

Mr. Ford,
that's Phil Remington.

Of course.

Come up
to my office, Leo.

- Pleasure to meet you, sir.
- Phil.

Give you a little tour
of your car.

We, uh, took out
your 289 small block...

and put in a 427 7-liter.

Uh, firstly,
I want to just clear the air.

I hope
that whatever disagreements

between us
can just be chalked up...

to natural red-bloodedness
in the heat of battle.

Oh, I appreciate that, Leo.
Truly, I do.

It falls on me, Shelby,
to inform you

that I have been appointed

overall executive director
of the racing program.

Now, I do hope that this
won't be a problem between us.

Well, I assure you, Leo,
it will not.

Hey, Carroll...

Carroll!

And what is that top speed

with the, uh, 427?

Well, why don't we take it
for a spin?

- What?
- Yeah, go on, Mr. Ford.

- Hop on in. Go on.
- You want me to...

Just see
what $9 million feels like.

Hey!

God...

Open the door!

Hey, open the door!

Open the door!

Just hold me right there,

and you take my hand.

Oh, God. I sat on my nuts.

We're gonna build the next one
for comfort. Don't you worry.

Open the door.

Sorry, sir,
if you just give me a moment.

- Open the door.
- It's a sticky one.

You ready?

The name on the middle
of that steering wheel

should tell you that I was
born ready, Shelby. Hit it.

Attaboy.

Whoa! It's got a little kick,
doesn't it?

- Open this door.
- Oh, there we go.

Good God, Mr. Beebe.
You okay, sir?

Whoa! Oh, my God!

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Yeah, baby.

Yeah, baby.

It's about right now
the uninitiated

have a tendency
to soil themselves.

Oh, my God! Whoa!

Mr. Ford...

You okay?

Mr. Ford...

you all right?

I had no idea.

I had no idea.

I wish my daddy...

he were alive to see this.

To feel this.

Now, this is not a machine
just anybody can get in

and easily control.

Absolutely not.

I had no idea.

Now, you wanna win Le Mans.

If you really wanna take
first place,

Ken Miles is the man to do it.

Good timing.

Now, he knows this car

because he helped me build it.

Shelby, you know I've already

appointed Leo Beebe
director of racing.

Which is exactly
why I'm talking to you.

Now, you let Ken Miles
race Daytona.

If he wins...

he gets to drive Le Mans.

And if he doesn't?

Ford Motor Company
gets full ownership

of Shelby American.

Lock, stock, and brand.

Forever.

We're in
hour six at the Daytona 24,

and Fords are dominating
the leaderboard.

Shelby American's Ken Miles
holds a narrow lead

over the Holman-Moody Ford
driven by Walt Hansgen.

I don't bloody think so, Walt.

Oh, this race is not just
a test of our cars,

but also our teams.

As you know, we have
a second team out there today.

- Holman-Moody.
- That's right.

Number 95, Hansgen,

blisters through
the front tri-oval

while closing in on Ken Miles.

Walt's pushing her too fast.

He's pushing 7,000 RPM.

Hey, get the EZ sign
out there.

Come on. Move. Do it now.

Every one of these GTs
out there today

is under
my direct supervision.

And of course the supervision
of Henry Ford II.

The drivers,
the speed, the strategy...

even the RPMs
are determined by us.

Ken Miles
is locked in a pitched battle

with Hansgen
as they pass the grandstand.

Hansgen is taking a run
at Miles entering turn one.

Miles is boxed in.

Hansgen slips by
and takes the lead

approaching
the infield chicane.

Cor blimey!

Did you see that?

The caution flag is out.

Still racing.
Hey, we are still racing.

Come on, guys, let's go!

Let's go. Move it.

He's coming in.

Let's go,
let's go, guys. Come on.

Go, tires up.

Here, right here.
Let's go. Let's go. Move it.

- Fuel flying in.
- Breaker bar!

- We're good.
- It all checked out.

- 36. 38.
- Go! Go!

Hansgen is right up our arse.

If I can just get
outta the pit ahead of him...

She's running hot,
but I think she'll hold.

- Fuel's low.
- Bring up the scoop.

She's hot.

Hey there, Walt.
Good to see you.

Yeah, after I get out
of this pit, Shelby,

it's the last time you will.

Oh, don't worry.

We got rearview mirrors.

What happened
to that Mustang he took out?

Don't know yet.

I can push her harder
than six, Shel.

- I can feel it.
- Uh-huh.

Hey, how come these guys pit
so much faster than we do?

They got a goddamn
NASCAR crew, that's why.

- No shit?
- No shit.

Go! Go, come on.

We're clear, we're clear.

Goddamn NASCAR crew.

Go, go, go!

Guys, they've already left.

Hello?

There's my Mollie. Hello.

Hiya, love.

- Mom? Mom?
- What are you doing?

Just having a cuppa.

Mom, ask him about the brakes.

- Go to bed. It's 1:00 a.m.
- Ask him.

Go to bed. Now.

I take it he's not asleep.

I'm sure he smuggled
in a radio.

Yeah.

He said to ask,
"How are the brakes?"

The brakes? Yes. No, no, no.

Tell him
they're working for now.

You know, Shelby's been acting
very strange.

- Ford have gone...
- Ken.

...and put up another team.

- With a GT.
- Ken.

Some sort of yampy,

bloody corporate test
or something.

Just take a rest
whenever you get a chance.

Sorry, my love,
what were you saying?

You've only got a few hours.

I can't hear you very well.

I'm sorry. I can't hear you.

Wish me luck.

- Good luck.
- I love you, darling.

After 23 hours
here at Daytona,

Walt Hansgen driving
the green and white Ford

has a commanding lead

over Ken Miles
and Shelby American

as the rest of the field
has fallen off the pace.

We're locked out.

Ain't nothing Miles can do

this late in the race.

Engine's hot. We gotta keep it
under six thou.

All right.

She could come apart.

One way to find out.

I thought we were keeping him
under 6,000?

Shut up, Don.

With only minutes

of racing left here
at Daytona,

a pitched battle for the lead
is being waged

as the number 98 Ford makes
an incredible late surge.

- What's happening?
- He's moving up.

...entering the front
tri-oval, Ken Miles' desperate bid

for the win
may prove to be...

Come on now!

White flag! Last lap!

Miles is pushing him. Hard.

That's it, girl.

Ken Miles drafts Walt Hansgen

coming into the final turn.

Come on. Come on.

What the hell?

Come on.

All right.

Look at this now.

Damn it!

Yeah!

Ken Miles
takes the checkered flag,

bringing glory
to Shelby American.

How about that?

Reliability, strength...

Yes, Leo.

Mr. Ford, sir, we won.

Uh-huh.

We won! Ford won Daytona.

Hot damn.

And which team was it, Leo?

Shelby American.
Miles driving.

Son of a bitch.

All right.

Where the hell is he?

Hang on, I see him. Hey, wait.

Someone lost a bulldog
on the beach.

No, no. Come on. Come on.

Come on.
Let's go. Let's go.

Someone get this man a drink.
Someone get him a drink.

Oi.

In bed, you.
What are you doing?

Dirty stop out.

I was...

drawing a map, so I could
follow you on Le Mans.

Mmm.

Look at that.

That is spot on.

You are a dab hand,
very accurate.

Tell me about the track.

No, I can't, Petey.

Please.

Well, you start
at the start line.

Yeah, but you
actually start here

because you have to run
to your car at Le Mans.

True enough.

So, once your old man manages
to hobble over...

- and pull out...
- And not hit anyone.

Yes, right.

Then you accelerate very hard
up to Dunlop Bridge...

road banking away from ya

and down through the trees
to the Esses...

and accelerate up
to Tertre Rouge.

Critical first gear corner.

Fast entry.

Keep your speed up
for your exit onto...

Mulsanne.

Long straightaway,
hemmed in by poplars.

Top gear, 210 miles per hour.

And down to third, revs up.

Revs are your friend.

Get a maximum exit.
Let the car run free.

Over the brow...

then wham!

Mulsanne Corner.

Accelerate to Arnage

and then over the rise
to the White House.

You get that right and...

your first three
and a half minutes...

of 24 hours.

But... you can't make
every lap perfect.

But I can try.

All right.

Off to bed, you.

I will... wake you...

before I leave for France.

I promise.

Okay. Good night.

Eh, where's, um...

Where's that?
The Hotel Saint Pierre?

Where?

It's gonna
rain again tomorrow.

There's always rain here.

Start'll be dry though,

so we'll swap out
your tires come rain.

Yeah.

Might be smart
to sleep, Bulldog.

Well, you, too.

I'm not driving.

That's a bloody shame, that.

Oh, hell,
I couldn't make this team.

I'm gonna go walk
the first corner.

I figured.

Counting on it.

Ken.

Chaz.

We'll change
the color of them seats,

shall we, Frost?

Well, if this were
a beauty pageant...

we just lost.

Looks fast, don't it?

Ah, looks aren't everything.

Scarfiotti and Bandini
start for Ferrari.

You can take him.

Four minutes, Ken.
Four minutes, buddy.

Live from Le Mans, France.

Mom! Come on.

All right, coming.

The 24 Hours of Le Mans.

And there are the cars
lined up...

Drivers,
please take your places.

- And there they are...
- There he is.

...lined up, ready to go.

They're lined up
as per their practice times.

Faster cars
are up to our left.

Oh, bloody joking!

Number 10,
a Bizzarrini,

almost loses control.

It's all right.

You looked great
out there, sir.

What happened to Miles?

Bloody hell.

No.

Poxy bastard.

After one lap,

Bandini-Ferrari
is in first place.

Where is Miles?

Where the hell is Ken?

I don't know.

He's coming in.

Oi! He's coming in.

He's coming in.
Let's go.

Frosty, come on.
Let's go. Move it.

I think it's his door.

That's a rough start
for the Ford team so early...

The bloody door won't close!

All right. All right.
We'll take care of it.

Come on, guys.

Damn door!

- Try that.
- This'll do it.

Shelby,
what the hell is wrong?

Something's hitting
the frame.

Oh, you're joking, aren't ya?

Guys, get outta the way.

Just get outta the way.
Hold it.

Go! Go, go, go!

He's back out.

Go.

Ken Miles,
in Shelby American's

Ford number 1, in tenth place.

Tremendous gains
for Ken Miles in Ford number 1.

- Come on, Dad. Come on.
- Passing Porsche 43.

Moving quickly into the
top 20. He's passing them...

Ken Miles, Ford,
has set a new lap record.

Three minutes and 34 seconds.

- Yeah!
- Ken Miles passed it with a time of 3:34.3.

Shelby.

He's pushing the car too hard.
That's not the plan.

Plans change.

Lap is 3:34.
Track is 8.36.

Someone tell me
the miles per hour!

Three minutes, 31.9.

- Another lap record!
- That's an average speed

of 142.01 miles per hour.

Let's go. Let's go, boys.

Tea's ready, Ken.

Oh, thank you, Chaz.

- Happy birthday, old chap!
- Cheers, mate. Great run.

Go, boys.
Move, move, move.

Need a quick body check!

You're three seconds faster
than Gurney.

If you hadn't blown the start,
you'd be in the lead.

Can you keep this up?

Can the car?

There has been
an incident on turn six.

Number 18 and number 26
have collided.

It appears
Ferrari number 20,

Ludovico Scarfiotti,
has also left the track.

- All right, watch your head.
- Here you go.

Thank you.

Have a good dinner, sir.

Oi, McLaren's pitting.

Mr. Ford's probably going
somewhere nice for dinner.

What do you mean "probably"?

Rain's coming.

All right.

Coming in.

Go, tires up!

Get 'em checked out.

Engine's running hot, Pops.

- All right.
- She's hot, mate. Crack on.

- Go.
- Well done, Denny.

Tire.

Dash clear.

Swap.

We're at 220. We're okay.

All right.

Fuel flying in.

Rear tires
coming up the wall!

Get the fuel in there.
Come on. Let's go.

Swap that out.

Front set.

We're good.

- Get it moving!
- Go! Go!

Go, go!

Good job, guys.
Good job.

It was
a good change, fellas.

Hey, I need a stopwatch.

Did you see that? The great American
automobile magnate leaves in a helicopter. Very classy.

Lorenzo Bandini remains

in first place for Ferrari.

Easy, Dan.
You're getting boxed in.

He's not batting
on a full wicket, that one.

Easy, Dan.

Oh, bloody hell!

You arsehole.

Oh, piss off!

You wanker!

A face like a smacked arse,
now, don't ya?

Porsche number 58
with an unidentified Ford

are run off the track
at Arnage.

Go, Ken. Come on, Ken.

Nice stopwatch.

You want one? They're Italian.

Ken Miles
in Ford number 1

and Bandini in Ferrari 21

are locked in a battle
against the elements

as they push their cars
to the limit

past the White House corner.

And now with all that rain,

the track conditions
are wet and slippery

so expect these
very fast laps to suffer.

Yes, sir?

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir.

Okay, sir.
Right away, sir.

Hey!

What the hell are you doing?
Give me that.

Dumbass.

Mr. Shelby...

Here we go.

Come on, girl.

Come on.

Hold it together now.

God!

Bugger! Come on.

The leader at this
moment is Ferrari number 21

being driven
by Lorenzo Bandini.

His brakes are shot.
All right, here we go.

It looks like Ken Miles is
bringing the number 1 Ford.

into the pits very slowly.
He could have a...

Coming in.
Watch yourself, guys.

- Brakes. Nothing. Gone.
- Yeah.

All right. Let's go,
let's go, let's go.

I had him. I almost had him.

Well, he's putting
another lap on us now.

All right. Fit it in.
Do the upper arm first.

Come on, let's go.
Come in now, now. Faster.

Let's go.

Upper arm first.

Watch the brake line
pulling it out.

They're doing it. The brakes.

Now, that's gonna take...

I said
watch the brake line.

Faster!
Faster! Faster!

Coming in.
Watch your back!

Jeff,
you've gotta be faster!

Bleed the brakes, Jeff.

No, no, no.

It's against the rules.
You cannot just change things.

Oh, no, no, no.

You show me where it says
in your book

that we cannot swap out
the system,

and then
you can disqualify us.

Bulldog, back off.

Calm down. Calm down.

This is not legal.

You show me where it says
in that little rule book

where I can't swap out
my upright assembly.

A part is a part.

Be it a brake caliper, a rotor,
or an upright assembly,

and I can swap out
any damn thing I want to.

We read your damn rule book.

Bandini's pitting.
He's pitting.

Oh, what a shame.

I think he blew a line.

Well, he was trying
to keep up with you.

I don't speak Italian,
but he ain't happy.

Get me out of here, Pops.

- Come on!
- All right.

Come on!

Almost there, Ken.
Almost there.

How's it looking, buddy?

One pump, and we're good.

Car's yours, Ken.

All right, listen,
you can still take him,

but you gotta pass him twice.

I get it. Pass him twice.

Ford number 1
driven by Ken Miles

is back out, hot on the heels
of Bandini in Ferrari 21.

Not bloody good enough,
Miles! Come on!

He's off his pace.

He doesn't trust the car yet.

Come on, Ken.
I gave you new brakes, buddy.

All right.

What did you come here for?

Let's do it.

That's it! Come on!

He ain't done it yet.

He needs to take
another lap on him.

He needs to pit soon.

He needs to catch
Bandini first.

All right, you bastard.

Let's do this again.

Come on, now.

That's my girl!
That's my girl!

Oh, my God. Oh, my God!

Bloody hell!

He did it. We're in the lead.

Are we in the lead?

What about Bandini?

Where's Bandini?

They're done. Finished.

Ferrari's over.

McLaren's four minutes
behind him in a GT.

So we're lying Ken first,
and two and three. All Fords.

Ferrari number 21

and driver Bandini
have left the track.

The Deuce is coming.

Ken's up in a half an hour.
Want me to wake him?

Nah, let him sleep.

- Thank you very much. Thank you.
- Unbelievable.

- Hello.
- Mr. Ford.

We're not
quite there yet, but...

You missed a good meal.

There he is. There he is.

Brief me, Leo.

We're running
one, two, three, Mr. Ford.

Who's in the lead?

Hulme, Miles.

You know, I was thinking,
Mr. Ford...

wouldn't it be great
if all three Fords lined up

and crossed the finish line
at the exact same time?

They all lined up
and came home together.

Ford. Ford. Ford.

I don't think we can
actually do that, sir, but...

Why not?

Miles is laps ahead, Leo.

What would you have him do,
slow down?

Yeah.

Mr. Ford wants Miles
to slow down.

He wants all three cars to
cross at the exact same time.

He thinks it'll be
a historic moment for Ford.

It'll make a great photograph.

Shelby, Miles needs to be
a team player here,

and so do you.

You gonna tell him,
or you need me to?

Don't go near my driver.
Go on.

This is what Mr. Ford wants.

Go on now.

- He expects loyalty.
- Go on.

- Guys, let's go. Come on.
- All right, look lively, boys.

Let's go. Frosty.

Yeah, coming.

Let's go. Come on.

What's Beebe want?

Oh.

It's off the scale, innit?

They want you to slow down.

Run that by me again.

They want you to slow down.

You're outshining
their car, Ken.

You're four minutes up
on McLaren.

The Deuce wants
the three Fords

to cross the finish line
one, two, three, all together.

They're asking that
you be a team player...

and make that photograph
happen for 'em.

That photograph.
That's good.

That is good. Mmm.

Ken, even if
you tie for first...

you'd still be the first man
ever to win...

Sebring, Daytona, and Le Mans
in the same year.

You'd have the triple crown.

Look, I ain't get...

I haven't been able to get you
to follow an order

since day one.

Whatever you wanna do
is fine with me.

My choice?

Your choice.

The engine's
running at boiling.

The brakes are shot.

How was that?

Taken care of.

The car's yours, Ken.

Ken, the car's yours.

Ken!

Car's yours, Ken.

It's the Fords
that are the cars to beat,

claiming the top three
positions...

What the hell is he doing?

...led by Ken Miles
in Ford number 1...

If you're not

watching this right now...

Don't answer that.

Get away from it.

Get away from it.

Ken Miles in Ford
number 1 is demonstrating

why he's one of the top drivers
here at Le Mans

with an outstanding display
of skill.

Keep an eye on Ford number 1.

He's gonna break
his own record.

Shut up.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Now.

Miles. Miles. Miles.

Miles. Miles. Miles.

Miles. Miles. Miles.

3:30.6.
That's another record.

Another lap record
falls to Ken Miles...

It's a perfect lap.

...breaking his own record
and virtually guaranteeing

first place
for Shelby American

and their exciting GT40.

Ken Miles
in Shelby America's

Ford number 1
just beat his own lap record.

Three minutes
and 30.6 seconds...

Bring him in.

Right now!
He's outta control.

Now, you bring him in
before he wrecks that car

and we don't finish.

Bring him in, Shelby,

or I will get you banned
from the SCCA and the FIA.

Ken Miles is behind
the wheel, Leo.

That's his car to the finish.

H-A-P-P-Y

I'm H-A-P-P-Y

I know I am, I'm sure I am

Woo!

Oh.

Come on, lads, where are ya?

That is quite a sight to see.

What's he doing?

Mum, why is he slowing down?

...the second and third place
Fords to close ranks.

The three Fords are going
to cross the line together.

Ken Miles slowed down.
He waited for them.

- Here are the Fords lined up in a row...
- Dad. No.

- It's all right.
- Dad.

It's all right.
Look, he's bringing them in.

- Led by Ken Miles...
- He's bringing them all in together.

...certainly
the leader of this group

- and owner of the Le Mans lap record...
- Good for you.

- ...set just moments ago.
- Good for you, Ken.

Yeah! Yeah!

Look at that.

- Well done, Leo.
- You too, Don.

Please stand by.

Final results
are under review.

...is explain to me
how he's finished first

and he's not won the race?

Because McLaren
started from further,

so he came in...
he won.

Look, it's not a tie.

No, because McLaren...

Because McLaren started
further back,

he's saying he's traveled
that little bit further,

so he's won and not Ken.

That is bullshit.
That's bullshit.

Shel! Hold on!

- Where's the tie?
- Hey, hey, hey.

Where's the goddamn tie?

What?

- You son of a bitch!
- Hey, Shelby!

- You knew!
- No, I didn't know!

- That's enough! Enough!
- Get off me! Hey!

Bruce.

Nice race, mate. Congrats.

Shel!

They robbed you, Ken.

Here is the clarification.

Though the drivers finished
the race in a heat,

McLaren has been ruled
the winner

as he started
from farther back.

Some bullshit
technicality.

Final results. Ford number 2,
driven by McLaren and Amon,

is the winner.

Ford number 1, driven
by Miles and Hulme,

second place.

In third place,
Bucknum and Hutcherson

in Ford number 5.

I never should've asked you.

Selling cars, huh?

That's what they do.

Well, you promised me
the drive.

Not the win.

It was a hell of a drive.

She's a hell of a machine.

Oh, she's fast.

Could be faster.

The 7 liter's sweet...

but, uh...

we still need
a lighter chassis.

I was thinking
bonded aluminium.

It's a ground-up rebuild,
but if it works...

we can lose
a couple hundred pounds.

Well, what the hell
are we doing here?

Let me take a shower,
get a cup of tea...

ham and cheese cob
or something.

We're gonna get
the bastards next year.

Got a bit of fuel left
in the tank.

What do you think
of those honeycomb panels?

What you were looking for?

Don't know yet.

She looks pretty good.

There's a point
at 7,000 RPM...

where everything fades.

The machine becomes
weightless.

Just disappears.

Yeah!

And all that's left

is a body...

moving through space and time.

7,000 RPM.

That's where you meet it.

You feel it coming.

It creeps up on you,
close in your ear.

Asks you a question.

The only question
that matters.

Get the van!

"Who are you?"

What do you think?

It's fantastic.
Feels really good.

Nice and smooth.

No vibration in the box.
Feels really strong.

You drove it
for less than an hour.

You can't tell shit
after an hour.

Go for seven even,
that'd be 14 all in.

Hey, Shel.

Hey, Shel, that guy,
you know the one in the hat,

he's ready to close
on those two 427s.

His and hers. Full freight.

They, uh, flew in
from Galveston.

Uh-huh.

Uh, I need you to come outside
for maybe a minute.

And do what?

Be Carroll Shelby.

Tell them a story,
spin a few magic words.

What does that mean?
"Magic words"?

It means...

come outside and say hello

and make them feel good
about their purchase.

They're getting the damn cars.

That's what they get
for their money, Phil.

Now, either they want 'em
or they don't.

- Am I some kind of a lounge act?
- No.

Am I here to talk people
into things?

It's been six months, Shel.

Six months.

Sometimes they don't
get out of the car.

Peter!

Peter, come and take
the garbage out.

Mr. Shelby.

Oh, hello, Pete.

I remember that wrench.

My dad threw it at you.

I believe he did.

Why?

Oh.

I think I probably said
something to him.

Called him a few names.

That's right.

Do you wanna speak to my mum?

Well, I did. Uh...

I came to say hello,
check in on her and...

Then I started thinking
that sometimes...

uh, words...

just... ar-are not useful.

Tools are useful 'cause
you can make stuff with 'em

and you can fix stuff
with 'em.

Here.

Thanks.

Your daddy was, uh...

He was your friend.

Yes, he was.

Yes, sir.

And he thought you was
just finer than frog fur.

Peter!

I think I've gotta go
help my mum.

What are you doing here then?
Go on.

Bye.

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