One evening in September 1955, a 24-year-old American actor
invited Alec Guinness and a companion to join him in a Los Angeles
restaurant. But he first proudly showed them his new
silver-coloured racing car, a Porsche 550 Spyder he called the
Little Bastard. The British actor felt uneasy and suddenly said,
"It is now ten o'clock, Friday the 23rd of September 1955. If you
get in that car you will be found dead in it by this time next
week." The young man laughed and Guinness apologised for his
strange outburst. On the evening of 30 September the whole world
was stunned to hear of James Dean's death -- in a head-on collision
with a Ford limousine. The curse of the Little Bastard had
begun.
Car customiser George Barris bought the crushed wreckage, intending
to salvage some parts. The car slipped while being unloaded at his
garage, hitting a mechanic and breaking his leg. A sports car
driber fitted two of the Little Bastard's wheels to his vehicle.
Withou warning, they burst simultaneously, putting the car into a
skid that almost killed the man.
In October 1956 Dr William Eschrid was injured in a race when his
car overturned on a bend -- its engine came from Dean's car. At
that same race Dr Troy McHenry was killed when his car spun out of
control into a tree. The drive train holding his machine's rear end
came from the Little Bastard. Later a garage caught fire,
destroying every car inside except the Little Bastard. Then George
Barkuis was thrown free when his truck, transporting the Little
Bastard, ran off the road -- he died moments later when the car
fell on him. Other similar events added links to the chain of
catastrophes, until finally, in 1960, the Little Bastard vanished,
presumably stolen. Perhaps the thief soon wished he had never
touched the jinxed machine -- assuming he lived long enough to
express such misgivings.
***end***
