Ennstal Classic 2026

In 1972, Ferdinand Alexander Porsche — the man who drew the 911 — was pushed out of the family firm and forbidden, in effect, from designing cars. So he designed a matte-black chronograph instead. Half a century later, the brand he built out of that exile lends its name to a Grand Prix where nobody is in a hurry: the finale of the Ennstal Classic, held this year from 22 to 25 July in Gröbming, Styria.

We spent three days there. Here is what the entry list won't tell you.

186 Entries — and a Paddock That Doubled Itself

The official count for the 34th Ennstal Classic stood at 186 cars. Walk the streets of Gröbming and you'd swear it was twice that. The explanation is simple and rather touching: spectators arrived in machinery worthy of a start number. No sticker on the door, no time card — just a Jaguar parked next to a Jaguar next to another Jaguar, all of them ostensibly "audience."

And despite the Porsche Design branding, the field was anything but a one-marque parade. Ferrari came in force. Bentley, Bugatti and Aston Martin were properly represented. Jaguars — as noted — arrived in flocks.

From 1922 to 1994: Carburettors Only, Replicas Not Welcome

The bracket ran from a 1922 Bugatti — 104 years old and still earning its fuel — to 1994, meaning the youngest car in the field had already passed thirty. Nothing turbocharged, nothing electric, nothing plastic. In an era when cars are steadily becoming appliances, three days of carburettor breathing is a form of therapy.

More important than age was provenance. Nearly every car on display was the real thing: same body, same engine, histories running through single families like heirlooms. The event book — printed the old way — listed each entrant, each car, and each car's biography. That last part matters most. A sixty-year-old racer with its original chassis and matching engine is a historical document; a restoration is a paraphrase; a replica is fan fiction.

The Tent of Serious Metal: Two Ford GT40s, an Iso Grifo A3/C, a Black Porsche 904

The exhibition tent held the kind of lineup that usually requires a museum and a metal detector at the door — somewhere north of €14 million of it, by insurance-auction arithmetic. A blue 1967 Ford GT40 Mk III (€5–8M), the road-going version so rare most people flatly refuse to believe it exists, next to a white 1960s GT40 Mk I (€3–5M). The 1965 Iso Grifo A3/C №59 (€1.5–2.3M), Giotto Bizzarrini's answer to everyone who ever fired him. A Maserati A6GCS/53 with Fantuzzi bodywork, 1953/54 (€2.3–3.5M). A black 1964 Porsche 904 Carrera GTS (€2.1–2.9M), arguably the most beautiful thing Stuttgart ever glued together. And a scattering of modern Porsche Design Carreras of GT3 RS calibre, tuned past factory spec — proof that the brand still occasionally designs things faster than watches.

Some children inherit stamp collections. Sebastian Asch inherited a paddock: his father, Roland Asch, spent the 1980s and '90s making life difficult for the DTM establishment, so the boy quite literally grew up in motorsport. The ledger says the upbringing took — more than 280 starts, 14 wins, 49 podiums and two ADAC GT Masters titles, a career most professional GT drivers would sign for without reading the fine print. At Gröbming he ran double duty: spice in the rally aboard his Mercedes, substance in the tent as ambassador for HWA — the Affalterbach atelier that built Mercedes' DTM weapons for decades, the 190E Evo II among them, and now builds exclusive sports cars under its own name.

Porsche Carrera 6: A Le Mans Survivor, Driven Like It Owes Money

The star of the field was a 1966 Porsche 906 Carrera 6 (€1.8–2.6M), wearing its Le Mans history on an untouched chassis. No restoration, no modern substitutions, just the car as the 1960s left it.

Its owner drove it accordingly, which is to say: hard. The logic is difficult to argue with. If a machine survived 24 hours of Le Mans sixty years ago, a 400-kilometre Alpine Saturday should not frighten it. Watching an unrestored prototype being used as its makers intended — rather than trailered between climate-controlled vaults — was worth the trip on its own.

The Full Carrera Line: Porsche 356 to 992, Nothing Else Allowed

For Porsche people, Gröbming offered something quietly remarkable: the entire Carrera lineage in one place. From the earliest 356 through the 930, generation by generation, all the way to the current 992. Boxsters and Caymans were admitted to the family photo. Panamera, Cayenne, Macan and Taycan were not — no offence intended, presumably, but a Grand Prix has standards.

Not a Race. A Retirement Paradise — and All the Better for It

Call the Ennstal Classic a competition and you'll be technically correct and spiritually wrong. Nobody came to Styria to destroy art. There were no lunges into corners, no incidents, no wounded pride — just daily routes stretching to 405 and 420 kilometres, which is genuine work for pre-war metal, taken at a pace that respects both the machinery and the scenery.

A handful of professional racing drivers were seeded into the field to keep the show honest, and the weather behaved impeccably. But the real event was simpler: owners of the best cars in the world, in the best landscape available, driving them properly and letting everyone watch.

Somewhere, presumably, F.A. Porsche's matte-black chronograph is still keeping time. Here, for three days in July, nobody checked it.