The Inception of an inaugural Cuban Vintage Grand Prix

by ​Rafael Migoyo (with some edits and corrections by Bernard Martin)
​
This is just the beginning of the story...

On a night that seemed like any other, beneath the shimmering lights of Pittsburgh, a city known for forging dreams as tough and enduring as the steel it’s famous for, two paths were destined to cross in a manner most extraordinary.

​The scene was set at Mario's East Side Saloon, a lively venue chosen to celebrate not just one, but two momentous occasions: an early preview of an episode hosted by a mutual friend, Racheallee Lacek, for American Dream TV, showcasing Pittsburgh's vibrant spirit, and my own 31st birthday. The air was electric, charged with the excitement of new beginnings and the joy of shared success.

The celebration carried us to Girasole, a restaurant where the ambiance of warmth and the aroma of exquisite Italian cuisine wrapped around us like a welcoming embrace. It was here that fate decided to play its hand.

Introduced by Racheallee, the star of the evening, Bernard and I found ourselves seated across from each other, and within moments, a spark was ignited. A casual conversation about racing and my homeland, Cuba, blossomed into an engaging dialogue, compelling us to dine together and delve deeper into our shared passions.

As music filled the air and laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses, a wild idea took root in my mind. Turning to Bernard, I ventured, "Hey, what do you think of having a race in Cuba?" Bernard, always known for his unique way of articulating thoughts, paused, a glimmer of interest in his eyes, and responded, "You know that there where several famous races in Cuban in the lates 50's. Fangio was kidnapped by the Cuban Revolutionaries. It was a big deal"

Bernie texted Rafael some wikipedia links at that point. "That’s an interesting idea" he continued, " If we did it would have to be on the exact same course as back then, if it's still there and possible" My heart raced as I contemplated the audacity of the suggestion. "Give me a minute," I replied, the wheels in my mind turning furiously.

Excusing myself, I navigated through the lively crowd, accepting a glass of wine from a friend with a smile, and stepped outside. The night air was cool against my skin as I dialed my father’s number, the idea burning brighter with every ring. "Papi," I began, my voice a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation, "I'm here having dinner with some friends, and I've met someone remarkable..." I shared the bold proposal, the silence on the other end of the line stretching on as my father pondered the possibility.

Finally, mirroring my earlier interaction with Bernard, my father responded, "Give me a minute, let me make a call." The wait was agonizing, yet when he called back, his words sparked a surge of hope. "Keep the conversation going," he advised, "there may be a possibility, but it requires work to ensure it’s not only feasible but done right."

With renewed determination, I re-entered the restaurant, the music greeting me like an old friend. The sight of the waitress singing accompanied by a guitarist added a layer of magic to the evening. I returned to my seat, the idea now shared between generations, and said to Bernard, "Let’s talk."

This was the beginning of a journey neither of us could have anticipated, a tale of ambition, camaraderie, and the pursuit of a dream that would bridge continents and cultures. From that night forward, our lives were entwined in a project that was as daring as it was inspiring, all sparked by a conversation over dinner, under the stars of Pittsburgh.

A few weeks had passed since that memorable evening at Girasole, when Bernard and I decided to reconvene, this time at my place. True to tradition, and perhaps a bit ambitiously for his caffeine tolerance, I served him a mug of my Cuban coffee. This wasn't just any coffee; it was a brew that had slowly been making a name for itself among friends and family, a recipe I've perfected since I was a kid, sneaking to the coffee maker before my parents could wake up on weekend mornings.

As we settled in, the aroma of the coffee filling the room, we dove back into our conversation with a sense of purpose and excitement. I had news to share, updates that could potentially move our project forward, and Bernard was equally prepared, his own updates adding to the growing momentum of our plan.

The dialogue flowed effortlessly, as if picking up right where we left off. With every new idea, we found ourselves on the phone, verifying claims, seeking advice, and, most importantly, making connections. Our meeting turned into a brainstorming session, with each phone call opening new possibilities and each introduction expanding our network. The energy was palpable, a testament to the synergy between us and the potential of what we were setting out to achieve. 

As our calls wrapped up and the hours ticked by, Bernard and I were riding a wave of enthusiasm and determination. We weren't ready to call it a day just yet. Seizing the moment, Bernard reached out to Nate and John, people he deemed a perfect fit, suggesting a casual meet-up at their local haunt to keep the momentum going. The place of choice was "The Pub at 333," a spot known for its laid-back atmosphere and good vibes, the perfect setting for the kind of conversation we were looking to have.

​I decided to bring along a special touch for our first official gathering—a selection of Cuban cigars I had saved from a time when bringing them over was still on the right side of the law. It was a gesture of goodwill and a nod to the roots of the idea that had brought us all together. Nate and John appreciated the gesture, and as we settled into our seats, surrounded by the ambient noise of the pub, the project began to take on a new dimension.

Over drinks, the conversation flowed freely. We laid out our vision, the challenges we anticipated, and the dreams we harbored for making a race in Cuba not just a possibility, but a reality. Nate and John brought fresh perspectives to the table, their expertise and excitement adding layers to the plan that Bernard and I had not fully considered. It was a meeting of minds, each of us bringing something unique to the table, yet all of us united by a common goal.

A couple of hours later, we left "The Pub at 333," the energy among us was undeniable. Our project, sparked by a simple conversation, had grown into a shared vision. We're not just planning a race; we're aiming to create an event that sticks with people, not only for the thrill it promises but for the connections it seeks to build. Our goal is to craft an experience that's remembered for how it brings cultures together, supports dreams, and perhaps, creates a meaningful legacy for everyone involved.

Our focus is to create an event that is worthy of being remembered, not only for its excitement, ambition, and passion but also because it provides a platform on which culture can be expanded, people's dreams and ambitions can be supported, and a legacy can be built. Like all things, it began with a thought. Help us make it a reality, one worth living and holding positive memories in our hearts.

Everything in life takes work. Help us make the work worth living.

The last time a cuban Grand Prix was held was in 1960