By Mike Fitelson
The Montclarion
Sylvia Oberti's first car was a card board box with a stool to sit on. Oberti was 3, her mother cut out the headlights.
The youngster's laps around the living room-"I think I took great drives around the world," Oberti recalled earlier this week-eventually led to the Mille Miglia, Italy's 1,000 mile endurance race of vintage cars.
For three days in May, Oberti dons helmet and gloves, climbs into her 1951 SIATA 750 Spyder and rockets in and out of traffic, rubbing wheels with the world's best drivers steering the most sought after cars.
The country falls in love with her cheering "Sola Sylvia," or ''Belladonna'' as they memorize every feature of her smile.
And in each of the last four years she has accomplished what no other women, and few men, have; completing the race without a co-pilot.
When she returns to her Montclair hills home, however, the roar of the engines and cheers from the crowd fade as she returns to a more anonymous lifestyle and a career as a disability rehabilitation counselor.
"From the third grade tetherball championships till now have been fairly dry," joked the self described shy person who grew up in Fresno in the early 1960s and always had an interest in automobiles.
She remembers urging her father to drive "faster, faster" while her brother, curled up in the back seat, begged the opposite. From her cardboard racer, she graduated to slot cars and go-karts, being the driver of choice for the close races because she was the lightest. Not a "tom boy," Oberti simply found these activities more enjoyable than what most girls her age were doing. And she still does.
With her childhood experiences, as well as classes on racing high performance cars and a few laps around the Laguna Seca race track, she was ready for what is billed as "one lap of Italy."
In 1989, she had the chance to ride shotgun in the Mille Miglia, but at the last moment the driver backed out. When she finally made it across the Atlantic to view the race, what she saw was "a rolling museum," akin to zoo animals in the wild-cars in their natural habitat.
"Seeing cars in a museum is sad," Oberti said. "The start of the race was like opening up a treasure chest and having thousands of different jewels just there sparkling."
Despite her excitement, the experience was bitter sweet because she realized exactly what she missed in 1989.
When she returned from the 1991 event, she decided to go against all the odds, buy a car and race. After exhaustive research, she found what she was looking for. Although she had never heard of a SIATA and, at S50,000, it was pricey, the car had a racing history and fit her like a glove, not a minor concern since she stands 5-feet 8-inches tall.
Oberti bought the car in November, applied for the race in December, and in January of 1992, learned that of the thousands of entrants, she was one of 315 selected to compete. Only 261 would finish.
The Mille Miglia tests a competitor's endurance and skill under every possible driving condition. Beginning in Brescia in Northern Italy, the route winds south down the Adriatic Sea to Rome then back up to Brescia over terrain ranging from country roads to crowded city streets, from sea level to 6,000 foot glacial peaks.
Drawing over 10 million spectators, the importance of the race to Italians has been compared to rolling the World Series, Super Bowl, and Indy 500 into a single sporting event for Americans.
The Mille Miglia began in 1927 and continued until 1957 when it was shut down after 13 spectators were killed by a Ferrari driven by Count Alfonso de Portago. In 1982 the race began again with stricter speed controls, but the route remains on the open road so racers share the streets with scores of spectators and local traffic.
Five women are known to have competed in the early years of the race, but none successfully completed a solo trip. Now the race regularly attracts 10 to 20 women drivers every year.
In her 41-year-old, four cylinder SIATA, Oberti's speed ranges between 95 mph on the open road and as slow as five mph when driving next to hay trucks or through flocks of sheep.
"The neatest thing of all is the police love to help you go faster," said the confessed speed demon. "I'm not a slow driver at all."
The conditions in the car are almost as grueling as the race itself. The SIATA, one of only 25 known to exist, has no speedometer, gas gauge, or heater, only a five-inch windscreen, and is convertible, so Oberti is continually battered by the elements (it is almost guaranteed to rain the first night).
While she has few problems with bugs in her teeth, flying gravel spit by the tires of other cars is a constant concern. She fears finishing the race one day while covering her mouth to hide a chipped tooth.
Nevertheless, convertible is the only way to travel for Oberti, who said "there is nothing quite like the wind in your hair. It really does feel good to be outside and you really do see more."
In many ways, her record setting decision to ride solo was simply a practical choice. In 1992 she did not have a boyfriend and driving with a married man could have connotations she preferred to avoid. But the bottom line was that she could not bring herself to put a close friend in such a dangerous position.
"The danger was right there in my face," she said. "You accept what happens (to you) because you believe in yourself, that you will survive the problem." That rationalization did not sit so well with Oberti when it included a passenger.
Driving solo, she takes on the traditional roles of co-pilot - navigator, timekeeper, mechanic - and forgoes the extra set of eyes which help keep the car going forward when fatigue from 15 to 20 hour stretches behind the wheel or distractions such as classic landscapes scattered with castles threaten a pit stop.
The steely solo effort won Oberti permanent residence in the Italian heart. When she enters city streets lined with admirers, children sing her name, young men throw hopeful flowers, and ancient women wearing aprons wipe away tears and wave handkerchiefs.
Some in the crowd penetrate her determination, forcing her to crack a smile when they offer her food and water or pretend to hitchhike.
"Mostly they are polite, it is rare someone is totally a jerk," she said.
The press has followed her with an adoring eye, frequently mentioning her in even general Mille Miglia news and taking note of her daring exploits, such as the time she turned off her headlights to conserve battery power and illuminated the road before her with a flashlight held over the windscreen.
Once, a television reporter and cameraman stopped her just yards away from the finish line to interview her and give her a bouquet of roses.
Due to the language barrier - she speaks only a little Italian - Oberti was once nearly married off in a headline.
Although she has placed as high as 105, winning has never been her goal.
It would be great to win, but I realize most of my life I didn't do it to win, I was just privileged to participate," she said.
The difference between participating and winning was driven home by her work with the Special Olympics.
"They make me in awe of them," she said, referring to the disabled athletes. "You see people dealing with things beyond your imagination. Gymnasts are the most amazing, guys on the rings or pommel horse with no fingers. You are thinking, 'how do they do that?' As far as understanding the human spirit it is an incredible experience."
Oberti has used her prominence in the Mille Miglia to raise over $20,000 for the Special Olympics.
This year, she thanked the Italian people for embracing her by helping to sponsor 34 Italian athletes in the World Games in Connecticut this month.
Appropriately, in a sport where she defied her own set of impossible odds to participate, Oberti has adopted the motto of the Special Olympics as her own: "Let me win, but if I cannot win let me be brave in the attempt."