Whatever happened to small engine builders in Karting?

Karting mirrors Formula 1 on a smaller scale. From the heroic era when drivers took excessive risks and "garage guys" British teams — as Enzo Ferrari dubbed his rivals from England — built chassis paired with Cosworth engines and Hewland gearboxes to snag Grand Prix wins, we've arrived at today, where teams operate as multinational giants shifting billions. Sadly, karting has followed suit.

Gianni Balen's story, who clinched three 125 cc world karting titles allowing twin-cylinder engines with a motor hand-built in tiny numbers in his home garage, is a fairy tale that can't repeat. Individual genius, drive, and passion beyond logic no longer suffice. Today demands industrial organization. To sideline these pesky small players, the International sanctioning body mandated producing at least 50 engines for homologation—50 engines ready for technical inspectors' scrutiny, who could even perform spot checks to ensure no dummies padded the numbers.

Gabriele Tarquini, 125 FC World Champion (the only category open to twin-cylinder engines) with a Balen engine. Though used by very few drivers, the Balen "L" was an extraordinary motor for power, delivery, compactness, and lightness

50, No Less!
Thus, the "50-rule" eliminated small builders—those geniuses who could panic the giants with surprise wins from bold, innovative tech that outdated everything prior. Back to Balen: the clever Bolognese technician crafted an L-twin with two separate crankshafts meshed to a central primary transmission, featuring a super-compact sliding cruciform gearbox (Vespa-style) that needed heavy maintenance from rough-handling drivers. Gabriele Tarquini told me that during his 1983 125 FC World Championship win, mechanics in the truck rebuilt gearboxes after every heat. Yet for three straight years, Balen humiliated mighty MBA, who despite vastly superior resources, achieved nothing. Today, a Gianni Balen couldn't exist.

The legendary BMC twin-cylinder engine, featuring a single rotary disc to feed both cylinders positioned on the engine's back and driven by a through-shaft: all technology later adopted by other builders. Malverti's engine won the 125 European Championship with Gianfranco Baroni—the top honor then for the geared category. When a technical-commercial deal with DAP seemed imminent, something went wrong, leaving it as a beautiful and ultra-competitive technical exercise.

What's the Point?
In the 1980s, when the 125 class adopted this homologation rule, it made sense to prevent one driver monopolizing a vastly superior engine, denying rivals access. But with today's tech and opportunities, it feels dated—even obsolete from a fan's view. Production marvels we dreamed of 40 years ago exist: rapid prototyping, lost-wax casting, full-block machining on accessible CNCs, CAD software, 3D printers. A passionate technician can now design, build, and test a prototype cheaper and faster than back then. So why not create a feeder class for prototype engines? Without such chances 50 years ago, we wouldn't have Balen, TM, or Pavesi—legends born from brilliant mechanics with scant resources. Sure, it's provocative, but enabling creativity, spotlighting talent, and offering life-changing shots would be magnificent.