Month: July 2018

ANDREW FRANKEL GETS BEHIND THE WHEEL OF THIS MONTH’S BEST NEW CARS

ROAD TESTS

THIS MONTH ALFA ROMEO STELVIO • BMW 760iL • KIA STINGER

The Stelvio Pass is rivalled only the Karussel at the Nürburgring and Laguna Seca’s Corkscrew as candidates for the most over-rated stretches of tarmac on earth. But while the slow and fiddly race track corners merely interrupt what are otherwise fast and flowing laps of their respective circuits, the Stelvio Pass is somewhere to which people journey especially in the hope of finding one of the world’s great roads. It is nothing of the sort: it is instead an endless series of switchback hairpins, covered in snow during the winter, cyclists in the summer and guaranteed to induce nausea in your passengers at any other time you might be lucky enough to get a clear run at it. Let’s hope, therefore, that the Alfa Romeo that takes its name doesn’t also promise something sublime only to deliver something else altogether more noisome.

It has its work cut out. Making your first SUV seems to be a rite of passage among car manufacturers these days but it doesn’t make the job any easier, particularly when yours is a sporting brand carrying a certain level of expectation regarding how any car wearing your badge should drive and perform.

But Alfa Romeo appears to have done better than most at providing itself with the best possible chance: the Stelvio is based on the still new and well received platform that underpins the Giulia saloon and it has done well to keep the weight gain to not much more than 200kg. It sounds a lot, but when you consider how much higher the Stelvio sits and how much heavier still is much of the competition, the engineers involved deserve to be congratulated.

Stelvios come with 2-litre petrol engines with either 197bhp or 276bhp and a 2.2-litre diesel offering either 177bhp or 206bhp and the choice of rear- or four-wheel drive for all. And just like the Giulia, there is a 503bhp Quadrifoglio version sitting at the top of the range. The car I drove was a high-power diesel, with four-wheel drive and the bottom of three trim levels.

And as ever, Alfa’s stylists have worked wonders, somehow doing the impossible and making a high-sided, snub-nosed SUV still look like an Alfa Romeo, and a pretty attractive one at that. People buy cars like this to stand out from the crowd, but when the crowd buys them too – as they increasingly are – it is a powerful weapon for yours to be the best looking of the lot, and I’d say this is.

But even in the traditionally underachieving SUV categories, a pretty face will only get you so far these days. There are now some really impressive cars in this category, such as the Porsche Macan, new BMW X3, Jaguar F-Pace, Audi Q5 and Mercedes-Benz GLC and the Stelvio will have to perform like few Alfas in history to provide a credible presence in the market place alongside rivals like that.

It performs well, up to a point. The diesel motor lacks neither power nor torque and in the relatively light Stelvio has no problem bowling it along the road at a decent rate. Allied to the ubiquitous and highly capable ZF eight-speed automatic transmission it seems always to have enough in reserve to get you briskly up to speed or past anything that may be holding you up. But it’s quite a noisy engine too. I was interested to see that it shares not only its 2143cc capacity but also an identical bore and stroke to the equally rattly fourcylinder diesel motor Mercedes-Benz is rapidly phasing out of smaller-engined diesels. Coincidence? Nobody’s saying.

Either way, as a tool for the job it’s good enough and during a couple of days running in mixed conditions, it also managed a genuine 40mpg, which I thought pretty commendable for this kind of car.

I TAKE GREATER ISSUE WITH THE WAY Alfa Romeo has configured the chassis. Here, I admit, its engineers had a problem. How do you make something that’s quite heavy and has a notably high centre of gravity still somehow handle as you’d hope an Alfa Romeo might? Or do you simply accept that that’s a fool’s errand, soften it off and focus on providing superlative ride comfort instead? Alfa’s decision to split the difference, falling if anything on the side of dynamism and response, is entirely understandable, but that does not mean I agree with it.

Yes, it means the Stelvio handles quite capably for such a car, managing its mass under quite severe provocation and delaying the onset of understeer for as long as you could reasonably expect, but only at the price of tying the car down on its springs. The less desirable consequences of this include a generally stiff-legged gait and the occasional unseemly stumble over transverse ridges or into pot-holes. Even so, it should be said that the ride is not terrible nor even particularly poor, just notably compromised: you might well take the view that a little relative discomfort is worth putting up with for the point-to-point poise it undoubtedly brings.

It’s far harder to make the case for the interior which, relative to most rivals is, I am afraid, just plain poor. When not just the Germans but also companies like Volvo are creating cabins for £40,000 cars that would not have looked in the least out of place in something costing twice as much even a few years ago, the Stelvio cockpit appears as if from another age. Yes, it’s quite cleanly presented with an admirable economy of buttons, but the materials used are too variable in both number and quality, what little technology it places at your disposal is very previous generation, but most of all there is little of that sense of design cohesion in here that is essential for creating an ambience of true class in a car such as this. There’s quite limited rear headroom too, and only a tiny rear screen to look out of.

Despite such reservations, I think that Alfa Romeo should be praised for creating what remains a competitive, if flawed, new offering to this super-competitive market.

Its first job was to create an SUV that was sufficiently distinct both in ability and appearance not simply to stand out, but to do so as an Alfa Romeo. And I think it has broadly succeeded in this regard.

But that’s a very different thing to saying I think it should be up there on your list with the best the Germans, the Brits and Swedes already have in this category. In its ride comfort, disappointing interior and noisy engine lie flaws that only the most love-blind of Alfisti will find easy to ignore. Its best rivals may be less attractive, they may even be a little less entertaining, but they are far more complete propositions.

So the question is, what matters more in this new class that’s so crucial to Alfa Romeo’s future well-being? And for me I think more people will want one of the quiet, comfortable and genuinely luxurious cars that already populate the class than an outsider with no track record in the field and a reasonable number of significant drawbacks. The Stelvio, then, may be the world’s first Alfa Romeo SUV, but it remains an Alfa Romeo, with all the good and bad that has so often entailed. The hope must be that for enough customers its charms outweigh its shortcomings for Alfa Romeo to gain a toe-hold in this class. For whether we like it or not it is in building cars like this, far more than the more smaller coupés and saloons upon which it built its reputation, that the future of this most enigmatic company now depends.

FACTFILE

Alfa Romeo Stelvio 2.2 Turbo Diesel Q4 AWD Milano

Price £43,990 Engine 2.1 litres, 4 cylinders, turbocharged Power 207bhp@3750rpm Torque 346lb ft@1750rpm Weight 1659kg Power to weight 125bhp per tonne Transmission eight-speed auto, four-wheel drive 0-60mph 6.6sec Top speed 130mph Economy 58.9mpg CO2 127g/km

NICK TROTT EDITOR

Races: MGB, Mazda MX-5, Fun Cup

From head to toe, I use Adidas Climacool. Last year I needed to replace all my kit, so took the plunge and bought the best I could afford. It was worth it. The under and outerwear do a remarkable job of keeping you cool. I tested the MG at Silverstone in 30-plus degree heat (more than 40 in the cockpit) and had no problems.

I’ve always worn Arai helmets – they fit me well. Also, I managed to escape head injury while wearing an Arai when I fell from a motorcycle some years back (though I broke almost everything else). That tends to inspire loyalty and I currently use a GP6 PED.

I also have a Hans III device, which is pretty affordable. I’ve heard good things about the Simpson Hybrid head-and-neck restraint system too, and would like to try one.

One other thing is an electrolyte drink. I use SIS, a soluble powder. Rehydrating is hugely important, especially if your race weekend ends with loading up a trailer and driving home on a Sunday evening. If you’re not hydrated, you’re not concentrating – on track or road…

HAMISH McALLISTER FILMMAKER

Races: Formula Ford

I use a Bell RS7 helmet and, for others who also race single-seaters, a tinted visor might come in handy for those odd occasions when it is sunny in England. I got a new one for this year from Demon Tweeks.

If you like to film onboard, most people default to GoPro. They are no longer alone in the market any more, but they are good. Interestingly, the previous Hero 5 Black (not the 6) has been the more reliable of the ‘action’ cams we use at Motor Sport – so if you can find one for a reasonable price on auction sites or ex-stock, snap it up.

DICKIE MEADEN CONTRIBUTING EDITOR

Races: Lola T70, Ford GT40, Lotus Cortina, historic F2 and more

I use a Stilo ST5 FN helmet, but also love Arai. Don’t assume all helmets offer equal comfort. If you’re investing in a new one try on as many different brands and models as you can. There’s nothing worse than a splitting crash helmet-induced headache…

Spend some money on proper hearing protection. I speak from experience – loudly – as I’ve left it rather too late. Moulded silicone plugs are so much more effective than disposable foam. It doesn’t take long to have them moulded and they are widely available.

The new breed of lightweight overalls is exceptionally good, too. I’ve got a Sparco suit (it appears to have shrunk over the winter…) and they’re so much better at keeping you cool and keeping away the sweat than suits from five or more years ago. Just take a look at the suit weights listed in product descriptions to compare like for like.

A proper race kit bag is also essential. I’ve got a big Sparco trolley bag that swallows a helmet/HANS, few pairs of overalls, boots, gloves, underwear etc, with a bit of space for civvies as well.

ANDREW FRANKEL CONTRIBUTING EDITOR

Races: You name it!

An Arai lid is the only thing that matters. I have a GP6 Ped and wouldn’t entrust my noggin to anything else. Otherwise Alpinestar boots, Schroth HANS device and Sparco everything else, because it’s cheap. I never race in Europe without Haribo waiting for me at the end of a stint. The jolly green giant Motor Sport overalls are minor legends in historic racing paddocks. When I wear anything else I can count on people coming up to me and asking where they are, in the hope that they’ve not been binned…

HRDC ACADEMY

With regulations written with the specific aim of equalising the performance of the competing Austin A30s and A35s, the Academy has become one of the big success stories of the historic racing calendar in recent years. How equal? All cars are the same specification, with 1275cc engines, single SU carbs and identical cams. The rollcages and suspension are also identical. Yes, they look comical – but quality of the racing cannot be questioned. www.hrdc.eu/academy.html

HISTORIC FORMULA JUNIOR

2018 is the Diamond Jubilee year of Formula Junior and the historic racing side – led ably by FJHRA and the HSCC – is going from strength to strength. Not just in the UK either – interest in the 1100cc single-seater series is global. The FJHRA/HSCC Silverline UK championship kicks off at Donington on the weekend of April 7-8. www.formulajunior.com

HGPA 1930 -1951 GRAND PRIX & VOITURETTE

All cars that race in HGPCA meetings must have competed in Grand Epreuve races on or before 31st December 1965, but the cars produced in the 21-year period between 1930 and 1951 are particularly worth seeking out. Minimum engine capacity is 1.5 litres and the cars must wear 16in wheels. Head to the Brands Hatch Superprix on June 29–July 1 to witness some of the most glorious historics in action. www.hgpca.net

EQUIPE PRE-63

A series that pays homage to clubmans racing of the 1950s, Equipe Pre-63 is for FIA period E ‘Appendix K’ cars that use Dunlop Historic ‘L’ section tyres. Like the original Equipe GTS series, the racing will be close, the cars prepared to a high standard, and the paddock atmosphere highly sociable. If you fancy a weekend out, head over the Channel over July 28-29 to watch them compete among the dunes of Zandvoort. www.equipepre63.co.uk

SEPTEMBER 14-16 SPA SIX HOURS

It goes without saying that Spa-Francorchamps is a superb venue at which to watch any type of racing, but historic cars are especially evocative on this most spectacular of tracks. And the Six Hours is a high-quality event, hosting a wide range of sprint races as curtain-raisers to the main six-hour endurance for pre-66 racing cars. Five Masters championships will be present too, including pre-66 touring and GT cars, Endurance Legends and FIA Historic F1 and Sports Cars. Added attractions include rounds of the Jaguar Classic Challenge, among many more. www.spasixhours.com

SIMON ARRON

MAY 11-13 GRAND PRIX DE MONACO HISTORIQUE

Like its illustrious counterpart at Le Mans, this runs every other year – and the forthcoming edition will be the 11th of a sequence that began in 1997. Although the cast alternates subtly from event to event, Grand Prix racing is ever a central theme – and six of the seven classes are for evocative single-seaters. Pre-war GP cars attended only for a demo run in 2016, but will be racing this year. They are joined by pre-61 F1/F2 cars and F1 cars divided into four year groups (1961-65, 1966-72, 1973-76 and 1977-80). The only exception to the single-seater theme is an event for front-engined sports-racing cars from 1952-57. Practice begins on Friday, with qualifying on Saturday and racing on Sunday. www.acm.mc

MAY 16-19 MILLE MIGLIA

Ostensibly a regularity run open to cars that competed in the legendary Italian road race between 1927 and 1957, the modern Mille Miglia is about the most extravagant, anarchic and spectacular road-based historic event in the world. The quality, quantity and sheer value of the competing cars is jaw-dropping, likewise the gusto with which many are driven. And while the1000-mile route is now run over four days, the opportunity to see such machinery flat out through quintessentially Italian landscape remains one of the great spectacles in the historic motor sport world. The official competitive element may have been toned down, but the Mille’s spirit is very much intact. www.1000miglia.it

JULY 6-8 LE MANS CLASSIC

A biennial celebration of the world’s most famous 24-hour race, the Le Mans Classic returns this summer. It’s an amazing opportunity to see the cars – and some drivers – that have made their mark on the event since its first running in 1923. Whatever your favourite era, it will be represented. The competitive element? Four races apiece for six groups of cars, starting in daylight and running through the night. You’ll see everything from Blower Bentleys to D-types via Porsche 917s. There will also be a Group C race, plus demonstrations, club parades and thousands of cars on display in addition to the 600 racing on track.

Porsche’s 70th anniversary is likely to be the dominant theme.
www.lemansclassic.com

JULY 20-22 SILVERSTONE CLASSIC

If the nostalgia-fest and dressing up of the Revival leave you cold, the Silverstone Classic’s more workmanlike vibe and wider range of racing might make it more appealing. The venue can’t match Goodwood for charm or period authenticity, but its huge size means it can accommodate a vast range of displays, club gatherings and other distractions, so it has a distinctive appeal all its own. Much of the racing is of the pre-66 variety, but the classic also hosts rounds of the FIA Masters series for endurance racers, classic F1 cars and much else besides. Low on gimmickry, high on content, it’s the no-fuss, high-intensity choice for enthusiasts. www.silverstoneclassic.com

DREW GIBSON

AUGUST 10-12 AVD OLDTIMER GRAND PRIX

Approaching its 46th edition, the Oldtimer Grand Prix features a huge variety of races for everything from single-seaters and classic touring cars to modern endurance racers. Porsche will be marking another opportunity to celebrate its 70th anniversary – and the 30th birthday of the 964-era 911 makes this a double celebration. The Oldtimer Grand Prix is also a chance to catch the various Masters historic championships on one of the most celebrated tracks in the calendar. The recently introduced Endurance Legends series, for sports cars and GTs raced between 1995 and 2012, is likely to be a real highlight. www.avd-ogp.de

AUGUST 23-26 ROLEX MONTEREY MOTORSPORTS REUNION

If you want to do it properly, Monterey Car Week hosts a huge number of concours, auctions and other events, the Motorsports Reunion providing an antidote to shiny cars parked on golf lawns with a chance to see them in action at Laguna Seca. The racing can appear somewhat genteel compared with harder-fought European historic events, but the quality of the participants and attractions of the venue are clear enough. And there’s no lack of diversity, 2018’s running taking in everything from pre-1940 sports, touring and racing cars to ’70s and ’80s IMSA and Trans-Am heavyweights. It’s also a chance to see Can-Am cars in action on a track where they raced for real in period – and that alone justifies the trip.www.mazdaraceway.comwww.whatsupmonterey.com

AUGUST 31-SEPTEMBER 2 ZANDVOORT HISTORIC GRAND PRIX

Perhaps less well known than some of the other European mainstream events, the Zandvoort Historic Grand Prix has no lack of exciting racing, this being another outing for various of the Masters series for historic F1 cars and the usual support categories. New for this year is the official FIA Historic Formula 3 Cup for cars dating from 1971 to 1984, Zandvoort being the only date in the calendar where all four FIA historic championships run together. Another highlight will be for Tourenwagen Classics, reuniting iconic DTM cars like the Mercedes 190E Evo and BMW M3 with the drivers who made their name in them back in the day. www.historicgrandprix.nl

SEPTEMBER 7-9 GOODWOOD REVIVAL

Always a highlight of the historic racing calendar, 2018 signals the 20th anniversary of Goodwood’s signature race meeting – and the 21st running. For many the sideshows of period dress, fashion finery, air displays and good-natured nostalgia are a major draw, but behind the theatrics Goodwood regularly delivers on the racing. You’ll find some of the closest, hardest-fought battles you’ll see anywhere, with stellar drivers and the very best cars. The Festival of Speed might have a more diverse range of machinery, but the quality of the competition gives the Revival added appeal (and the same applies to the Members’ Meeting, March 17-18). www.goodwood.com

SEPTEMBER 14-16 CIRCUIT DES REMPARTS D’ANGOULÊME

Running the same weekend as the Spa Six Hours, the Circuit des Remparts d’Angoulême demonstrates that the passion and enthusiasm for historic racing is sufficient to sustain a fixture clash. This charming French street race has a unique atmosphere all its own. Its compact track is less than a mile long, but the old town surroundings couldn’t be more evocative or distinctively French, this being a great event for fans of machinery from the eclectic end of the historic racing spectrum – as well as more familiar Bugattis and ERAs. With rallies around the local region, eccentric entry lists and a charming location, this is truly an event unlike any other. www.circuitdesremparts.com

OCTOBER 26-NOVEMBER 2 PETER AUTO IMOLA CLASSIC

Peter Auto runs a full programme of historic events at circuits across Europe, all featuring high quality grids and superb racing. If you’re going to choose one to visit, the finale at one of Italy’s most beautiful and evocative tracks has to hold particular appeal, the circuit’s location in the heart of supercar country meaning it can easily form part of an extended stay in the area. Racing includes the new 2.0L Cup for pre-66 short-wheelbase Porsche 911s, Classic Endurance Racing for cars competing between 1966 and 1981, ’60s and ’70s Formula 2 Classics, Group C, the Heritage Touring Cup for tin-tops competing in the ETCC between 1966 and 1984, Sixties Endurance and a race for ’50s and ’60s sports cars. www.peterauto.peter.fr

NOVEMBER 10-11 VHRR HISTORIC SANDOWN, VICTORIA

For those addicted to YouTube videos of Peter Brock manhandling V8 Commodores around Bathurst, or Mark Skaife and Jim Richards monstering all before them in Nissan Skylines, the Australian Heritage Touring Car Series is a great chance to see the golden era of Aussie tin-top racing celebrated in suitable style. Open to Group C touring cars from 1973-1984 and Group A cars from 1985-1992, everything you see is an original racer competing in correct period livery. The Victoria Historic Racing Register runs it at Sandown, which – like its British namesake – also hosts horse racing. The fast, unforgiving circuit around its perimeter is all about horsepower on four wheels. www.heritagetouringcars.com.au

NOVEMBER 18-19 SOUND OF ENGINE, SUZUKA

If you want something a little more exotic than the usual historic racing event, the distinctively Japanese Sound of Engine at Suzuka should be on your to-do list. Inspired by a commemorative event in 2012, celebrating Suzuka’s 50th anniversary, Sound of Engine became a regular event in 2015 and has been growing in stature ever since. The 2018 event will include guest races from the Masters USA championship for 3.0-litre Formula 1 cars dating from 1966 to 1985 and much more besides. Expect suitably enthusiastic crowds at this most evocative of Japanese tracks, which first hosted Japan’s Formula 1 Grand Prix in 1987. www.suzukacircuit.jp/

IN THEIR OWN WORDS

with James Cottingham, DK Engineering

How did you get started in historic racing?

As a business DK Engineering has been running historic cars for more than 40 years. My earliest memories are going to race meetings and rallies with my father when he was racing and running cars such as Ferrari 375MMs, 250 Testarossas and 512Ms. All I ever wanted to do was go racing.

Interest for historic racing cars, both in racing and preparation terms, seems to be increasing year on year. Is that a fair assessment?

I think, obviously, there’s no denying that the Goodwood events have glamorised and helped the industry grow massively over the last 20 years. Is it increasing? Yes.

What’s interesting at the moment is the direction that people are going in. It comes down to the affordability of cars – the Cobras and 250 GTOs and Daytona Cobras and all those classic, iconic racing cars are fetching higher and higher numbers – but people are looking for new directions, which is why I think the Le Mans Legends Series, that has been launched for 2018, is very interesting. It’s for Le Mans racing cars from the 1990s onwards. There’s a lot of good stuff out there and it could be a very competitive racing series for relatively little money. They’re iconic cars that you remember people racing not that long ago.

Also, the race series out there with historic cars that can be built up from relatively affordable donor cars are also very interesting, for instance the Porsche 911 2L cup, Pre-63 GT or the Austin A35 race series.

What do you think is drawing people to historic racing?

I think the attraction of the historic paddock is the noise – the cars give you that raw expression. They’re rudimentary but effective racing cars. You can see when a historic racing car is being driven hard – it looks more impressive. When there are big wings and aero, there isn’t much action. When two guys are having a really good dice in historic GT cars you see them locking brakes, outbraking each other and getting crossed up at the apex. It’s a much more exciting race to watch for that reason.

Is your main interest in prepping race cars or restoring them for clients, and do those clients tend to be quite demanding?

Our core business is sales and restoration. Often those restorations are with a deadline in mind. A few years ago, in 2012, we had to restore a Ferrari 857 S and have it ready for the Freddie March Trophy at Goodwood. One of the only items that we’d subcontracted in the rebuild went wrong at the test, three days before the event. We had to work 24/7 to get that item rebuilt and back on track. At the end of the day, we nearly won the race with that car only for it to retire two laps before the end with a technical issue that was caused by that original part. But still, the guys did a terrific job and we were so pleased with how it performed and how it went. And we learned a lesson from it.

Does DKE focus only on Ferraris?

Not at all. Originally, in the 1960s, my father’s first racing car was a magnesiumbodied ex-works XK120 and after that he had a low-drag E-type, both of which he raced. He was really, traditionally, a Jaguar man, but when he started his business specialising in historic cars 40 years ago, he saw a gap in the market for Ferraris. Not many other people were doing that.

The design of the Jaguars wasn’t as much of a challenge as the Ferraris, particularly the 1950s sports Ferraris. They had so many variations and iterations.

We also help clients manage their cars. We may not run the car ourselves, but we manage it. So that would mean running something like a GT40 using our experience and resources to run it quickly, efficiently and cost-effectively.

What series do cars prepared by DKE run in?

Our clients run in a variety of series. But with the way that values, especially of Ferraris, have gone up, it’s becoming rarer to see a Ferrari out on track. So we mainly prepare Ferraris for the historic rallies now and some of the gentleman drivers, not so much the competitive racers you see at the Goodwoods and the Monaco Historic.

What DKE-prepared cars will we see racing this year?

We are running all manner of things in series from the Ferrari Owners’ Club Challenge to this year’s new Le Mans Legends Series. We’ll be running cars in the Pre-63 GT Series, which we sponsor as of this year. It is a fantastic series for GT cars in their earlier pure form, echoing the race that Graham Hill first won in an E-type, ECD 400, which was the very pure, original form of E-type racing. We’re hoping that we’re going to get some Ferraris out in that series, some SWBs and a GTO or two. We’re preparing cars for a variety of clients.

What’s the biggest challenge in catering to historic racing clients’ needs?

The biggest challenge is balancing a client’s desire to be competitive with reliability. That’s quite a challenge because you can push to the edge of an envelope in terms of performance, but you’re possibly encouraging the car to be less reliable. When it’s unreliable, it’s disappointing in the eyes of the owner and driver. That’s the biggest challenge.

Equally, within that desire to be competitive, it’s about making sure that cars are still true to their original form – i e the one they raced in. You’ve got to be very careful not to cross over into the boundary of illegal specification. It’s all too easy to do things that maybe from the viewpoint of reliability may help, but aren’t in keeping with the cars as they should be. You need to keep the cars as they ran in period.

How many people does DKE have working for its clients?

We have just under 20 guys in our workshop with various different talents.

And do you manufacturer most of the parts at DKE, or is that process outsourced?

We do manufacture minor parts in house, such as one-off production parts. For things that are needed – and are popular, such as brake drums for Testarossas – we get them produced. We oversee the manufacture of those products, or else source a required part from somebody that already makes them; it’s all about the network.

Writing from California, Don Larsen contacted Motor Sport to say he had several pictures “for possible inclusion in You Were There”. Possible? He does himself rather a disservice.

His interest in the sport piqued by TV coverage of the 1962 Monaco Grand Prix, he subsequently took up racing photography – and earned himself official accreditation at local events. “By 1971 I was in touch with a fledgling paper, Auto Racing News, through which I obtained credentials for Le Mans and Zandvoort – but the Monaco press centre turned me away. A couple of Italian photographers told me to ‘become Italian – wave your arms, your children will be thrown into the street if you don’t get your pictures’. It worked, but ARN sadly went under before any cheques arrived…” He was armed with two Nikon F bodies, five prime lenses – from 24 to 400mm – and a light meter.

Send us your images

If you have any photographs that might be suitable for You Were There, please send them to: Motor Sport, 18-20 Rosemont Road, London, NW3 6NE or e-mail them to: editorial@motorsportmagazine.co.uk

WRITER Colin Goodwin

We are in the Osteria delle Vigne, a typical Italian family restaurant just a few miles outside the town of Varano de Melegari. I sense that a culinary experience of epic quality is heading our way. We will be guided and served by Nicola Tambini, the grandson of the restaurant’s owner. There is no menu, no choice of wine; we will eat and drink what is put in front of us. I’m very happy to be left in the hands of Tambini and those of my lunching companion Giampaolo Dallara, founding father of the eponymous racing car manufacturer that he founded in Varano de Melegari in 1972.

Tomorrow is Dallara’s 81st birthday. At a special ceremony he will be given the first production Dallara Stradale, the company’s first road car. A simple machine, Lotus-like in concept, designed to be fun to drive on the road and on the track. Its chassis is carbon fibre, a material that this most fecund of racing car manufacturers knows very well. But first let’s go back a few centuries.

“My family has lived in Varano de Melegari and the surrounding area for 500 years,” explains Dallara. “At the beginning of the 20th century some Dallaras emigrated to the United States to work in the coal mines in Pennyslvania. I still have lots of relatives in the area.” It is fortunate for Varano de Melegari that Giampaolo’s grandparents weren’t part of that exodus, for today his company provides employment for hundreds of locals and presumably many more in the local supply chain in what has recently been branded ‘Motor Valley’. A valley that contains such illustrious names as Ferrari and Lamborghini. We’ll be visiting these companies shortly.

A plate of ravioli has arrived, four different types including artichoke parcels. A red wine from Parma is poured into generous glasses.

Born in 1936, Dallara grew up during the war. “There weren’t really any food shortages. I was very young, but I do remember fruit arriving in barrows from towards the coast and this being swapped for 30kg of wheat grown by our local farmers. The biggest impact the war had on our village was when 17 partisans were captured by the Germans and executed. As you can imagine, in a small community it removed part of a generation.

“Post-war conditions in Italy were tough and, to take our minds off the hardship, my father would take the family to watch motor races. Any races.” Was his father passionate about motor racing? “Yes, but everyone was. Absolutely everyone. I remember being taken to watch the Mille Miglia and being so incredibly close to the cars. An amazing spectacle.

“And then there were the drivers who, naturally, were hero-worshipped. The working people loved [Tazio] Nuvolari because he was closer to them in background. Achille Varzi had more style and tended to be followed by wealthier people.” These were experiences that triggered a life-long passion for racing and for cars. One that a young Dallara was determined to turn into a career. “I spent two years at university in Parma and then moved to the polytechnic in Milan. I wanted to take mechanical engineering but was unable to get a place. The only option was to study aeronautical engineering instead.”

An option that turned out to be a blessing. “A representative from Ferrari had been sent to the polytechnic,” says Dallara, “to find someone to work on aerodynamics. I put my hand up and was chosen. This was 1959 and in those days aerodynamics didn’t mean downforce, it meant improving penetration or, in other words, reducing drag.

“Ferrari was an incredible place back then. The atmosphere was amazing. I lived in a small apartment literally opposite the factory entrance. The people who you used to see coming in and out were quite something. I remember seeing Roberto Rossellini arriving with Ingrid Bergman to collect their new car, also the King of Sweden and the Shah of Iran. Royalty was always coming and going. Drivers, too. I particularly remember Phil Hill and Richie Ginther. Enzo Ferrari was like a god. I was scared of him and I think almost everybody else was, too.”

THE YOUNG DALLARA, STILL ONLY 23, WORKED UNDER CARLO Chiti, who was boss of the racing department. “Ferrari was competing everywhere, all the time. It was the time of the rear-engined revolution that Ferrari said was putting the cow behind the cart. The British were well ahead of the game.” It was a dream job, designing the most famous racing cars in the world in a heyday of motor racing. A dream, but not a perfect one.

“I was very junior, right at the bottom. I feared that my whole life would be spent in the drawing office. I would go to Monaco and other races, but I had to make my own way there and buy my own tickets. I was too lowly to be able to go with the Scuderia.”

Which is why, when Maserati approached Giampaolo with the offer of a job, he accepted. “The promise of going to races was the appeal of joining Maserati.” Clearly the young engineer was rather more than chief pencil sharpener in the Ferrari drawing office, because Mr Ferrari himself went to see Dallara’s father to ask him to persuade his son to stay at Maranello instead of debunking cross-country to Modena and

Maserati. All attempts to change his mind failed and for a time Dallara seemed to have made the right decision. “Soon after I started I was sent to Sebring, where we had two Tipo 63 sports cars racing. One was driven by Roger Penske and Bruce McLaren. I can’t remember the other car’s drivers. It was incredible. A fantastic experience for me.”

In between trips to the races Dallara worked on fuel injection, made by Lucas, for Maserati’s road cars. Not surprisingly Maserati, certainly not for the first or last time, was terribly short of cash. “They did a deal to sell some machinery to South America but never got paid,” says Dallara, “so the future looked bleak.” Certainly it didn’t look like a future spent watching Maseratis winning on the world’s racetracks. Once again Dallara was approached by a car company – a start-up as we’d call it today. “Ferruccio Lamborghini came to me with the promise that once the company was fully established we’d go racing.” Four years covered Dallara being plucked from college in Milan, working at the holy of holies in Maranello, joining Maserati and now moving to fledgling Lamborghini.

“We were so busy we never had time to go racing,” says Dallara. The small team at Lamborghini worked on the 350GT and then, two years after Dallara started at the company, it showed at the 1965 Turin motor show a bare chassis complete with powertrain that would underpin the fabulous Miura. The following March, at the Geneva show, the world saw the complete car wearing Marcello Gandini’s dramatic body.

“Fortunately we were so inexperienced that we didn’t realise the enormity of the task we were taking on. There weren’t many of us anyway and most of us were in our 20s. It seemed at the time that both Lamborghini and Bertone were going through a golden period in which everything they touched was perfect. Although we developed the Miura in only seven months there were hardly any serious problems to overcome.”

Fifty years ago Vic Elford was leading a trio of Porsche 907s across the line on Daytona’s banking, just a week after he had won the Monte Carlo Rally. Quick Vic was soon winning the Targa Florio, and weeks later he finished fourth on his Grand Prix debut. Without any semblance of a fuss.

Fast forward half a century and a Formula 1 driver contesting a sports car race creates such a media whirlwind that the 2018 Rolex 24 at Daytona would have been more appropriately named the 24 Hours of Alonso.

Every step taken, word uttered, smile he shot was beamed around the world. The buzz was incessant.

Meanwhile, one of the most successful endurance racing teams the world has known was starting afresh, without anyone batting an eyelid. Team Joest of Audi and Porsche fame was back, but now partnered with Mazda.

At any other race this phoenix-like return would have been the star attraction. But Alonso put paid to that. He even put America’s own team – Penske – in the shade.

The spotlight shining elsewhere turned out to be a blessing, when both Mazdas (running numbers 55 and 77) were struck down with niggling problems before no55 was barbecued at the international hairpin when its exhaust caught fire as the sun was rising. “Challenging” and “taking the positives” was the official – predictable – party line.

YET WHATEVER HAPPENED AT DAYTONA IN January was immaterial. For there was very nearly no more Team Joest at all, despite those 15 Le Mans wins in four decades. This is a team, remember, that carried the flag for Audi for so many years. Together they dominated, revolutionised and innovated at Le Mans.

Before that, Joest had beaten the factory Porsches at their height of the mid-80s with Paolo Barilla, Klaus Ludwig and ‘John Winter’, a year after winning the ‘indie’ Le Mans when the Rothmans Porsches boycotted. A works scalp followed with the WSC-95, when the factory attention switched to 911 GT1s.

It was only after a chance meeting, set up through a mutual friend of John Doonan, director of motor sports for Mazda North America, and Joest director Ralf Jüttner that the partnership was formed and Joest’s future was secured.

“It was right here in Daytona,” says Reinhold Joest’s right-hand man Jüttner. “I came over to have some discussions regarding a Daytona Prototype international programme, originally with teams that don’t currently have a DPi: Toyota, AMG, lots of them. Most haven’t actually materialised yet. We thought it was going to be difficult in the short term because we needed a programme for 2018. Latest. We couldn’t afford two years doing nothing.

“I then received a call from a lady I know very well who said ‘I heard you are at Daytona, will you have time to meet someone?’ That was the first time I met John Doonan; we had a meeting in their hospitality, maybe only 20 minutes.

“I didn’t have Mazda on my radar; they had a programme already running [with SpeedSource]. They had a team, a car; everything. But in that meeting I learned they were making some big changes. At the end, the question was: does it make sense to meet again? We agreed; two weeks later they came to Germany to look at our shop, met Mr Joest for the first time, and from the very beginning there was just this chemistry. It went pretty quickly from then on.”

It was eventually announced to the world in July, with the first shakedown as late as October – just weeks before official IMSA 2018 testing began.

When the deal was struck, Team Joest had rather hit a brick wall. Audi had pulled the plug on its LMP1 programme at the height of dieselgate and Joest was at a dead stop. “Reinhold [Joest] and I both said we will not buy GT cars or two LMP2 cars, look for pay drivers and sponsors and run as a private team. Either we find a proper programme with a manufacturer or we stop. He was old enough. Me? I would have found something for the last years of my working life…”

The elusive Reinhold, an almost mythical figure as he’s so infrequently in front of a camera, microphone or digital recorder, has three podiums at Le Mans to his name as a racer, as well as all those team victories. There was a very real risk he and his eponymous team would have slipped, criminally unnoticed, from motor sport entirely, because nothing was forthcoming in the World Endurance Championship. Nothing from any existing teams, nothing from prospective manufacturers – those very things the ACO and FIA insist are on their way to the WEC.

“There is nobody on the horizon,” Jüttner says, almost incredulously. “There isn’t anybody thinking about going in there.

“For sure, [the ACO and FIA] didn’t like us leaving. Talking to Pierre [Fillon] or even [Gérard] Neveu, who is difficult to convince of any other opinion than his own, they have to accept what we have done. What could we have done? They had to show me something, and they said when Audi quit ‘We’ll help you’, but how could they? Give us £15 million and I can buy an LMP1? They didn’t do that…”

FOR MAZDA IN THE STATES, CHANGE WAS evidently needed. A prototype programme in IMSA with Florida-based SpeedSource had yielded little success: in four seasons it had failed to win a race, and rarely troubled the podium – three times in 2017, once in 2016. It was more often off the pace and struggling for reliability.

Young American racer Tristan Nunez, who had made his way through from the grassroots ranks with Mazda and SpeedSource up to what was then the 2014 United SportsCar Championship, found scant positives: “I never thought in my wildest dreams I would have a factory ride that early in my career,” the 22-year-old says. “I was just happy to be there then, but there’s that competitive nature inside of you that just says ‘God, I just want to be up there at the front competing.’

“It was a blessing in disguise, y’know? I never went to college, so those years were an education for me learning it’s not all sunshine and rainbows at the track.”

Before the Daytona Prototype international category was introduced in 2017, which allows manufacturers to alter the bodywork of existing LMP2s and run their own engines, Mazda and SpeedSource were competing in an ageing Lola chassis, with SkyActiv diesel technology similar to that found in its road cars. The chassis was still based on that built for Aston Martin in 2008.

When LMP2 was revised and DPi was brought in, Mazda chose Riley from the four available P2 chassis manufacturers from which to build its RT24-P. In the back sat a four-cylinder 2-litre turbocharged engine to align with its road car range, because it’s the biggest engine Mazda sells. And when that failed to change the team’s fortunes, Mazda had its “eyes out to put the best pieces of the puzzle together” to rejuvenate the flagging prototype programme, according to Doonan.

“I have a huge respect for SpeedSource,” he adds. “But it’s all about putting ourselves in a position to deliver victories for Mazda and our fans. And when you get the chance to meet someone with the records Joest has, then you don’t pass that up.”

Those previous years in IMSA go against the success of America’s dominant racing manufacturer, when you consider that a startling 55 per cent of all cars racing in the States are said to be Mazdas. And the manufacturer is channelling drivers from the MX- 5 Cup and Formula Ford right through to the world stage in IndyCar and IMSA. Nunez and rising IndyCar star Spencer Pigot are proof of that.

This Mazda by Team Joest partnership is being run and paid for by Mazda North America – “We have the Japanese flag, the US flag and the German flag on the car” John Doonan points out, with Joest also opening an American base.

The Team Joest-developed car is still a Riley chassis, it still resembles a Mazda at first glance thanks to its ’Kodo’ bodywork design, and it still has the same AER-developed powerplant. “The aero, from the front, doesn’t look massively different,” says Jüttner. “There have been big and very successful changes, mainly in the cooling area. It’s not that we have tonnes more downforce or less drag, but we haven’t added drag even though we have bigger radiators, because the car was way off there.

“The suspension has been completely redesigned, with a new spacer and gearbox casting. The dampers and springs are now as you would expect and the suspension stiffness has been improved. The car was overweight by quite a bit last year; fortunately after the ROAR test we had a 15kg break, which we could take out, and we still have three or four kilos of ballast in the car so the weight is where it should be. The cooling is, too.”

The changes have worked, according to the drivers Olly Jarvis, Harry Tincknell and René Rast, who joined Mazda regulars Nunez, Pigot and the experienced Jonathan Bomarito for 2018.

THE PACE SHOWN AT DAYTONA – BETWEEN its myriad problems – proved Mazda and Joest have produced a rapid car and even afforded cautiously optimistic smiles to ripple through the garage. It has improved by more than three seconds and even topped opening practice at the 24, but the relevance of that is another matter, with constant accusations of teams sandbagging.

Jüttner says the pace has come from the fact the car is now behaving in the way it should.

“Whatever you did to the old car it didn’t change. Now it is reacting to changes the way you would expect. The drivers like the car much more so we are going in the right direction.”

Nunez, who says Mazda is more involved than ever before, is probably best placed to ascertain just how far the RT24-P has come and the influence Joest has had. “You can’t compare the two,” he says, showing ever more bright white teeth through a widening grin.

“Joest is just a whole different calibre of team, and the car feels completely different. It’s hard to see from the outside, but the package is driveable, you have confidence to race it, to attack into the corners, attack in a race situation. I’ve never had more fun driving a race car, and especially because it has the Joest badge on it. It’s a dream come true, and the way car handles is promising for the rest of the season.”

THE NEXT DREAM FOR HIM IS TO RACE AT Le Mans with Mazda, something that he says will make lifelong friend Derek Bell prouder than his own family.

“Going back to Le Mans would be awesome”, says Doonan, though Jüttner is more reserved. He’s been in and around the ACO more than most and knows the obstacles that lie ahead if the ACO and IMSA are to converge on a common prototype platform.

“The chance to take DPis to Le Mans would have been bigger if Toyota had stopped,” reckons the German. “The ACO could have started from a clean sheet and had an argument to scrap the hybrids. But with Toyota there they can’t do that, it limits the possibilities. That’s bad news for the ACO and the FIA.

“There was a chance for a new order: private LMP1s might have been a good start and it would have been easier to bring in these [DPi] cars. With Toyota still there – don’t get me wrong I don’t blame them – they are in the way. I understand their position and what they are doing, [but] it would have been better for the category if they weren’t.”

One thing is certain: Joest wants to return to its spiritual home in north-western France and knows what it would mean to Mazda.

“Joest and Le Mans is one thing. Mazda is the only Japanese manufacturer to have won Le Mans and is very proud of that. If there’s a chance to go back there without spending $200 million then they would at least have a good look at it.”

Doonan appeared more positive, hopeful even, of taking Mazda back to Le Mans, pointing to the communicative nature of the ACO and WEC with its surveys for fans and teams. Now the organisers need to act on the manufacturers’ advice.

But for the time being, the ACO’s loss is IMSA’s gain. And this season could be a marquee year for the WeatherTech SportsCar Championship. Not only do you have manufacturer involvement from Cadillac, Nissan, Mazda and Acura, but you have two of the world’s best teams going head to head for the first time in years: Joest vs Penske.

The limelight beckons once again.

He’s no braggart, Ron Gaudion. If you had been team mechanic on Jaguar D-types for all three Le Mans victories you might expect to revel in the glory at least a little. But having been a crucial part of the Coventry marque’s hat-trick, Ron returned to his native Australia, went into the oil industry – “and it just never came up for 15 years”.

Things have changed. Those racing days have become not just rose-tinted but gold-plated and Ron’s memories are valued. Sixty years on from the last of those momentous races, Ron returned to the UK courtesy of BA to celebrate that 4pm moment in 1957 when his team, privateers Ecurie Ecosse, took a momentous 1-2 at the Sarthe. He was a central part of the D-type event we reported on a couple of issues back, when the three Ds which came first, second and third along with the prototype long-nose and Jaguar’s Heritage car combined for a road trip like no other. Before that, though, I had a chance to reminisce over lunch with him about building Ds, Ecurie Ecosse, and how a young man lucked into a glorious moment of British racing history.

“I didn’t aim to go racing,” he says, an upright, fit, friendly figure of 87 who proves to have pin-sharp recall. “I just wanted automotive experience.” That led him to Coventry, Britain’s motoring heart, early in 1955 where he tried all the firms but despite having seven year’s training under his belt there were no openings – until Jaguar remembered it needed 20 men for an experimental project, a new racing sports car.

“I was shown some blueprints stuck up on the wall and Malcolm Sayer’s sketch of the car. ‘We’re going to build 100 of those,’ they said.”

Ron’s job was to help assemble the first 10 subframes and produce patterns for the ‘production’ cars. He couldn’t know that five of those first 10 would become legendary race-winning machines – the long-nose D-types that would bring lasting glory to the marque. Nor did he know as he helped wheel the selected racers to the next-door competition department to be prepared for Silverstone, Le Mans and Reims, that the works team needed a temporary extra bod for the 24-hour classic – and he would be it. It would furnish the young Victorian with experiences no-one could forget. “Pulling on those overalls with the Jaguar symbol on, I felt 10ft tall.”

That Le Mans race of 1955 did bring victory for Jaguar’s sleek new car, Mike Hawthorn and Ivor Bueb taking the flag on that quiet Sunday afternoon, but it did so against a background of anguish and devastation such as motor racing had not before known. The images of racing’s worst crash, which happened directly in front of him, still greatly affect Ron, colouring what had earlier been “two and a half hours of the best sports car racing I’ve ever seen. First Fangio [in the Mercedes 300SLR] was in front, then Mike. That’s why there were so many people in the stands – they were keen to see the first pitstops.”

I don’t want to keep Ron on the subject of the human distress he saw, but I ask what it did to Hawthorn, unwitting centre of the accident.

“Because of the smash Mike had to go round again, and as we waited Ivor said ‘I’m not getting in’. We’d all seen two blokes killed right in front of us. Lofty said to him, ‘just get in and drive. Don’t race, just keep it going’, and he was back to speed in five laps.”

Lofty, meanwhile, was trying to protect Hawthorn from the unfolding facts. “He said ‘keep away from Mike, don’t tell him anything’. But around 2am someone gave him a newspaper and it really shook him.”

It’ll be debated to the end of time whether or not Jaguar’s discs would have outlasted Mercedes’ drum and air brakes, but after Stuttgart decreed a team withdrawal Hawthorn and Bueb’s victory was virtually assured. The team returned to Coventry with the laurels, but the bloom was off the leaves.

And Ron was back on assembling D-types. He wasn’t needed for the Reims 12 Hours, the only other race on the works calendar, and there was no guarantee of a team place next season, so he determined to follow the Ds to a privateer outfit favoured by Lofty England and the Jaguar management – Ecurie Ecosse. With success in XK140s and C-types, the Scottish outfit was becoming a Browns Lane second XI, and with a brace of Ds on order Ron knew they’d need another hand.

“Jaguar only did two or three races per season, but I knew Ecosse were very active. So when Wilkie Wilkinson came down to collect two Ds from the works I introduced myself. He told me to come to Aintree to meet David Murray, who offered me the job, at £8 10s a week – a tenner less than Jaguar! But EE offered more racing, so after pushing it to £10 I went.”

What Murray’s team achieved on its tight budget was remarkable. Working from a couple of cramped mews garages in Edinburgh, the tiny outfit – Ron, his good mate Stan Sproat, head mechanic Wilkie Wilkinson, Pat Meehan and Sandy Arthur the transport man – carted their blue Jaguars from Edinburgh to Le Mans, to Monza and even Sweden, bringing back an improbable haul of results.

AH YES, WILKIE. DAPPER FRONTMAN FOR Murray’s team, always beaming, always in the photo, always mentioned in reports. Brooklands tuning wizard with Bellevue MGs and ERAs, central to setting up EE in 1951, the ace tuner who oversaw the team’s success. I recall how impressed I was to meet him in the 1980s, still beaming, still famous.

Ron isn’t an unkind man. It takes a while to unroll his opinion. “I can honestly say the few times I saw him lay a spanner on a car he ballsed it up, excuse my language. We were trying out drivers at the Nürburgring and Dickie Stoop came in to change plugs. Wilkie says ‘I’ll do this’. Afterwards I missed my plug spanner. I checked with Stan and DM and said ‘it’s in that car.’”

This isn’t about tidiness; a loose spanner in a racing car could jam a throttle, kill a driver. “144 corners – I thought, this guy’s dead. He came back in and DM says I’ll keep Dickie occupied, you check under the bonnet. D’you know, that spanner was sandwiched between airbox and bonnet, didn’t move at all. Up, down, 14½ miles… I get goose-bumps even telling you about it.”

Strangely, Murray was always Wilkie’s best promoter, despite the evidence. There was even a 1957 story claiming the two had tested a LM car around local French roads. “A fib,” Ron says firmly. “DM was always exaggerating Wilkie’s achievements. I followed the three works cars down, peeled off to our hotel and drove straight into the transporter, and we locked the transporter until the car went to scrutineering next day. “

DM wasn’t totally blind to Stan and Ron’s views. “I remember him pointing to a carb pipe and saying what’s that, Ron? A breather. Stan says, he asked me the same thing. Wilkie told him it was a fuel feed pipe! He was checking out Wilkie.”

But fair’s fair: “He was good at tuning SUs – he got the 120s and C-types going really well, but on Webers he was way off”.

Murray never had a cross word for Ron or Stan, but after the ’Ring episode he let fly at Wilkie. “Same in Sweden at the 1957 1000km,” Ron recalls, a twinkle in his eye. “We took the cars that had finished 1-2 at Le Mans, and at the first pitstop we’re waiting and Wilkie looks at all these photographers and news cameras and says ‘I’ll do this one’. The routine was you stand in front of the car holding the dipper, a big pot of oil for top ups. What does Wilkie do? Goes out far too soon, his arm gets tired and he puts down the dipper. Sanderson arrives, Wikie steps back, puts one foot in the dipper. He’s jumping around – ” Ron jumps up grinning to demonstrate – “there’s a gallon of oil everywhere, we’re laughing fit to burst… Mr Bean couldn’t have done it better! But DM went mad, tore into Wilkie. ‘Leave it to the boys in future!’

“I caught up with Graham Hill in the 1961 Sandown Tasman tour, when Wilkie was at BRM and asked him how he was doing. Boy, did he pay out! ‘You mean the storeman,’ he says. They’d put him in charge of spares.”

HOWEVER, WILKIE DIDN’T generally interfere with Stan and Ron’s work, and 1956 saw the team take its first D to Le Mans. With three works cars, two Aston Martins – featuring Stirling Moss and Peter Collins, no less – and scads of Ferraris and Maseratis, the saltired Scots were not expecting an easy run with their two-year-old car, tiny team and aged transport: at this point, says Ron, one vehicle was a 1928 Leyland and the other a cut-down 1936 double-decker. And you’d be lucky to scrape 45mph in either. Yet against such odds Flockhart and Sanderson’s singleton D thrived as crashes and breakages knocked out the opposition – a remarkable debut triumph. “Boy, did we celebrate!” says Ron. “We were delighted to beat Moss and Collins in the Aston. But the biggest high was at Le Mans in ’57.”

Let’s not repeat the tale of Jaguar’s 1-2-3-4-6, headed by the two Ecosse D-types. Let the cheering die down and instead think of Ron, Stan and Sandy immediately carting the successful cars down to Italy for the Monzanapolis event in those aged trucks. It took days, says Ron. “And we’d already been down there for the Mille Miglia in May. We got up the Mont Cenis pass to find it snow-blocked, so we turned round and drove via Nice. With all the first-gear work the red-hot exhaust burned through a fuel line, which I fixed with a plastic shirt wrapping. Lasted the three days back to Edinburgh!”

A contrast with Ron’s drive down to that ’57 Le Mans race – in the future winner. With no illusions about Wilkie, Lofty England held the new fuel-injected car at the works so he wouldn’t mess with it. Thus Ron had to drive it from Coventry to Le Mans, via Bristol air freighters to Cherbourg. “We took the four privately entered cars – the Duncan Hamilton car, the French, the Belgian [which would place third and fourth] and our car – and Lofty told me ‘just follow the others’. He kept off the main roads but these are country lanes; I got caught behind a tractor so I’m putt-putting along in this racer at 20mph. Then I had to catch up – probably the best drive I’ve ever had, catching the team in a Le Mans Jaguar.”

Murray was a fine manager who spread a small budget a long way, and Ron’s programme especially suited him. “We prepared the cars by October for the next season and then I had winter off and signed on as a ship’s engineer. At the end I’d return to Edinburgh. DM was very happy because he saved several months’ salary. He was running on a shoestring.”

Did it feel like that? “No. Our wages were always in, we got regular expenses, we had the best cars. He was tight with money, yet when he loaned me cash when I ran short abroad he denied it when I tried to pay it back.”

On the other hand, while Jaguar gave him a £25 bonus for the ’55 win, Ron had to go to DM’s panelled office over the mews and request his portion of the prize money. It was no palace, that cramped mews base: “Virtually horse stalls, just room for a car and a bench. Any minor nudges went to the local dealer to fix, but if it was serious it went back to the works.” Which, he says, negates the story that there was a spare frame or body parts found there. “There was no room!”

A chartered accountant by trade, Murray was balancing several business interests: he had two hotels and some wine shops. Eventually he left the UK in a hurry, leaving behind rumours of financial and sexual improprieties, and never returned. But as a team owner he seems to have been ideal: the crew always had what they needed, he was a man of extreme thoroughness, and as an ex-racer himself he knew what counted. He’d prepare a campaign plan for each trip, with timings, writing out yellow slips with the details.

I ask if they disassembled and rebuilt the new cars. “No. We trusted Lofty. After three races we’d take the heads off and check valves and tappets in case of over-revving but we never had trouble with the mains or lower end. Everything had to be wirelocked, split-pinned or tabbed. It’s all in the prep if you have the right car and a driver who’ll do what he’s told.”

MURRAY HAD PRE-RACE RULES – NO BEER or romantic interludes for three days prior, the latter often broken by Ninian Sanderson. Ron reflects on their drivers: “Jock Lawrence was pretty good and Flockhart was excellent, no1 for sure. But Ninian was always up to japes. Once in ’56 when Ron had just joined us he was getting in the car and Ninian stuck a firecracker up the exhaust. Flockhart turned the key – BANG! He leaped out like a jack rabbit. Ninian laughed like a drain – but Ron went out and beat him by 1.5 seconds…”

He has good words for Hawthorn too: “If a schoolboy came up he’d always stop and talk”.

In 1962 Flockhart died in an air crash, one of many funerals Gaudion had to attend. “In my ’55-58 run 12 drivers were killed,” he reflects.

And he has an insight into one in particular. “On the Mille Miglia I was at the Bologna pitstop when de Portago came in. He’d obviously hit kerbs and bent the Borrani spoked wheels – the whole car was shaking – but he over-ruled the pit manager who tried to replace the rims. Taruffi was only two and a half minutes ahead and he wanted to catch him. They could have changed the wheels but he just took fuel and at 150 or so a wheel let go. The usual story is a tyre, but I know what caused that accident.”

Murray expected Gaudion to continue in 1958 – Ron still has the unworn overalls he was issued – but he could see that both Ecosse and the D had peaked. With his new wife, a Scots lass called May, he returned to Australia where he’d become commercial and racing manager for BP oils, and few knew of his time in the limelight. It had been a brief excursion – but what perfect timing.

WRITER Dickie Meaden PHOTOGRAPHER Lyndon McNeil

Think of legendary Porsche drivers and you tend to recall heroes of Le Mans, Can-Am or the Targa Florio. Yet for a purple patch in the late Sixties and early Seventies the Stuttgart marque also ruled the roost in the world of rallying.

Vic Elford was the higher profile name, thanks to his 1968 Monte Carlo win – Porsche’s first – and his subsequent exploits for Porsche in the World Sportscar Championship. Yet it was a burly Swede by the name of Björn Waldegård who achieved the most in a variety of rallying 911s.

A hat-trick of wins on his home rally between 1968 and 1970 are formidable proof of his talent, but he also managed back-to-back wins on the Monte in 1969 and 1970, completing Porsche’s own hat-trick. He even shared a Porsche 908/3 with Richard Attwood in the 1970 Targa Florio, the duo finishing in fifth place, but on the same number of laps as the winning car.

His foray into sports car racing was short-lived, but his love affair with the Porsche 911 would continue throughout his life, most notably with repeated efforts to win the East African Safari Rally. He came tantalisingly close to doing that with a second place in 1974, but despite repeated attempts a Safari victory would always elude the Porsche factory.

Like all great motor sport yarns the story doesn’t end there, for despite becoming the most successful European driver in the history of the Safari Rally, Waldegård always viewed Africa and the 911 as unfinished business. And so he returned, in a Tuthill-prepared Porsche, to compete in the 2011 East African Safari Classic. In something of a fairytale he won, with his son Mathias alongside him as co-driver, exactly 40 years since first attempting to conquer the Safari in a Porsche 911.

Sadly Björn would succumb to cancer just three years later, aged 70. In the course of researching his career I came across an obituary written by Richard Tuthill, preparer and co-driver of Björn’s 911s on numerous occasions, protégé of the Swede and super-quick Porsche driver in his own right. What he wrote fascinated me because it hinted at what made Waldegård so special in 911s – notoriously quirky cars that I happen to love more than any other. Here’s some of what Tuthill wrote:

“I have been lucky to sit alongside many world rally champions and WRC winners in our cars: none understood the front of a 911 better than Björn. He just knew where the front was and what it was going to do: the secret to getting the best from an early 911. He didn’t need to left-foot brake, so his driving style was incredibly positive and efficient.

“Safari 2011 bolstered Björn’s reputation as the best European Safari Rally driver ever. Famous for his Safari exploits, he told me he had spent more than three years of his life driving there. I rather upset him a year earlier when, en route to the airport after a Moroccan event, I enquired whether he thought he could still win the Safari Rally. He was adamant that this was a question I should not have asked!

“We arranged a pre-Safari suspension test in Marrakesh, six months prior to the rally, and I flew out for the second and third day of the test. My primary reason for attending was to evaluate Björn’s assurances that he could win. I wanted to sit in a car with him, to make sure that nothing had changed. Landing in Morocco at 10am, two hours later I was with him in our car, driving full speed down a 40-kilometre test stage. When we had finished our test drive, I got out of the car, drove straight to the airport and caught the first flight back home to England. I had no reason to stay: it was clear that Björn remained unbeatable down a blind road in Africa.”

Awed and intrigued by this heartfelt eulogy, I resolved to learn more.

ALL OF WHICH IS HOW I FIND MYSELF ON A frozen Swedish lake, fully crossed-up in an old Porsche 911. Not just any old 911 either, but the very car Waldegård drove to that historic victory in the 2011 East African Safari Rally Classic. Better still, I’m sitting alongside Richard Tuthill, taking part in one of his annual Below Zero Ice Driving events.

Hundreds of people have done these epic two-day sessions over the years, but none has attended with quite such a particular goal: to gain hands-on insight into Waldegård’s way of driving, and to then attempt to follow in his wheel tracks by threading a classic 911 rally car at speed along a snow-covered special stage. As someone who has only dabbled with rallying it promises to be quite a trip.

There’s a surreal quality about the Below Zero event. For starters there’s a mouthwatering array of rally-prepped 911s with which to play. There’s even a mid-engined 914/6. If you love Porsches this is nirvana. And then there’s the track, or rather tracks. Ploughed into the snow covering the thick layer of ice that turns a vast lake into a winter playground, the courses can be run individually or linked to present a longer lap and a greater challenge. There’s nothing to hit apart from the low snow banks that line the course, and there are recovery vehicles that come and drag you back onto the track if you run out of talent and get beached in the powder.

Day 1 begins with a slow slalom. The 911s are running with road-legal studded winter tyres, with nice crisp treadblocks and small metal pips to find some purchase on the ice. It’s a good way to start because it highlights just how slippery the surface is, and gets you familiar with the Porsche’s pendulous weight distribution. Tuthill and crew quickly instil the need to be ‘ahead’ of the car, letting the weight rotate it but also helping it along and then containing the slides by using your left foot on the brakes. It’s an alien feeling, but once you’ve re-calibrated your left leg to have some sensitivity it’s easy to find a smooth rhythm through the cones.

We’re then let out on the smaller of the ice lake’s courses to get a feel for the conditions and build some speed and confidence. It’s a fabulous feeling, one quite unlike driving any other car on any other surface. Slowly but surely you hold the 911 in a longer slide on the way out of the corners, then try a bit of tentative left-foot braking on the way in to destabilise the car. Words can’t describe the satisfaction of executing your first Scandinavian Flick, even if it is in slow-motion. As the light begins to fade we pretty much have to be forcibly removed from the cars. It’s so much fun you simply don’t want to stop.

OVER DINNER AND A FEW BEERS, TUTHILL describes Waldegård’s driving in more detail. It’s fascinating stuff, especially now I’ve spent a day driving his car in conditions he relished: “Björn rallied VW Beetles early in his career and really made them go well. I’m sure this is why he had such natural pace in 911s. He understood the physics. His theory with 911s was somewhat abstract, but beautifully simple, in that he likened the car to a cat. He explained that cats always hunker down before they jump or run, and so he applied this technique to the 911.

“His style was aggressive, certainly. He’d hammer the brakes to get the nose down and then stamp on the throttle to fire the car through the corner. He also liked a bit of letting go of the wheel (a trick all 911 experts love to pull as the steering has an uncanny ability to self-centre), but he had real mechanical sympathy. He was a big bloke, physically imposing, but he’d just sit there and drive. No fuss, just relentless stamina and speed. I’m convinced he knew more than anyone how to get the best from a 911 rally car”.

Sleep comes easy after a day on the ice. Old 911s aren’t particularly physical to drive, but they’re mentally demanding because they require constant monitoring and interpretation. It’s this process of dialling yourself into the 911’s unique handling and unlearning the rules that apply to normal cars that’s so absorbing. To be honest I’m in heaven, for there’s something about 911s that I connected with, even from well before I was old enough to drive. I’m sure it had a lot to do with Porsche’s motor sport achievements, and I’m equally sure the widow-making reputation (largely unfounded, as it happens) added a certain something, but strip all that away and you’re left with a car that’s endlessly enjoyable with unmatched dynamic depth.

Day 2 is a big one because we’re let loose on the ice with proper studded rally tyres. These toothy hoops of rubber and tungsten carbide instantly transform the feel of the 911, like an athlete putting on a pair of running spikes. Two things are immediately apparent. The first is that there is more traction, but the more welcome improvement is greater bite from the front end. It doesn’t need coaxing or coercing as much as on the small pips fitted to the winter tyres we were learning on yesterday.

For a while the balance of pace and grip is a little more in favour of the latter, at which stage I occasionally manage to drive in the manner Tuthill described of Waldegård. It feels spooky though, as you’re committing absolutely to nailing your braking points and getting the car turned while still on the brakes. Slow the car too early and you have to come off the brakes and wait until you reach the curve, which is hopeless as you’ve missed the moment of weight transfer to the front end. Alternatively you come piling in, panic at the speed you’re carrying and promptly plough into the snow bank, or turn too aggressively and induce a ton of oversteer.

I persevere for a while, but as I begin to get my head around the added bite and therefore speed offered by the long studs I decide chasing Waldegård’s technique is a hiding to nothing, and switch to developing my left-foot braking skills. This is much more successful. In fact I can’t believe how much more control I have over the car in every phase, from corner entry right the way through to corner exit. The trouble is once you get an idea of what a tickle of the brake pedal can do, the temptation is to fiddle, adjusting your line because you can, because it’s fun and because when you’re slewing through one of the big track’s majestic fourth-gear transitions you need all the control and reassurance you can get. I’m chuffed the left-foot penny is beginning to drop, but I’m more baffled than ever at how Waldegård could be so quick and consistent simply using his right foot.

Before he leaves for the UK, Tuthill promises me I can experience driving on a proper stage before I head home. This is the ultimate challenge and – I’m hoping – the moment where I really get to understand Waldegård’s mastery. But where’s the stage? In this remote part of Sweden all it takes to close off a section of public road and create your own impromptu special stage is a quick word with any locals that live along your chosen section of road, in this case one gnarled Swede referred to by the Below Zero team as ‘The Elk Hunter’. A van parked at each end is the best way to stop any passing traffic and walkie-talkies ensure the stage sentries are in contact with the car.

It might sound dodgy, but this is rally country. It transpires many of the roads near to the lake are regularly used by WRC teams to test ahead of the Monte and Rally Sweden, so it’s part of the culture. Nobody seems to mind waiting a few minutes and it does no harm.

Tuthill has arranged for Martin Rowe to be my mentor. 1998 British Rally Champion in the days of the F2 Kit Car and Production World Rally Champion in 2003, Rowe has retired from professional rallying and now lives in the Canadian Rockies where he spends the summer indulging a different passion for speed, as guide on the many mountain bike trails. In the winter he works as an instructor with the Below Zero guys.

Like Tuthill he’s a tremendous talent behind the wheel, though his precise, measured style couldn’t be more different from Tuthill’s high-energy helmsmanship. He also has a deadpan sense of humour and, being a rally driver, is impossible to impress.

We start with Rowe taking me for a few runs up and down the stage. It’s predictably impressive with Martin going quicker and using more of the road’s width with each pass. I think he’s a bit disappointed when I evict him from the driver’s seat – you can take the man out of stage rallying, but you can’t take stage rallying out of the man etc – but I’m itching to have a go.

Settling into the driver’s seat and pulling down on the shoulder straps it’s sobering to look out at the sinuous, snow-banked road stretching ahead, framed between the 911‘s front wings. It’s a view that would have been as familiar to Waldegård as looking out across the farmland of his birthplace in Rimbo, southern Sweden. To my novice gaze it looks wonderful and daunting in equal measure. If the lake has been my classroom this closed road is about to put what I’ve learnt to an altogether more revealing examination.

Select first gear, feed the power in and clutch out with equal smoothness, feel the tail hunker down as the rear wheels spin, studs digging into the snow and ice for purchase through the first three gears. With a nice bed of groomed snow the road is like a freshly bashed piste. After the ruts and deep patches of powder on the lake courses, the Porsche feels sweet, floating but still connected to the surface.

I’VE LONG SINCE ABANDONED HOPE OF emulating Waldegård’s technique. It was okay to have a play on the racetrack-like confines of the lake, but his aggressive right-foot braking requires absolute commitment with no hesitation. I understand the principle of his method, but I also know I don’t have the skill, confidence or experience to carry full speed on this road. If there’s one thing that unites race and rally drivers it’s wishing to avoid the humiliation of an understeer accident, so left-foot braking it is.

It’s a peculiar turnaround, for back in the real world I’m a resolute right-foot braker. However, after an intensive day and a half on the lake with some expert tuition (and a remarkably sanguine attitude to pulling lovingly prepared Porsches out of snowbanks) I’m can’t imagine attacking this snowy stage without using my ‘wrong’ foot.

And do you know what? Once the intimidation loosens its grip on my limbs and I relax sufficiently to let the car flow, something truly magical happens. Despite the road being little wider than the length of the 911 and its twists, bumps and blind crests still unfamiliar, the skills instilled in us on the lake mean I’m seeing the road not as a circuit racer, but as a rally driver. More specifically, as a 911 rally driver, albeit one without Waldegård’s genius.

It’s quite an epiphany. One where your primary objective is having the car dancing not just out of the corner from apex to exit, but into the corner too. If the tail is sliding you’ve got something to work with. If it isn’t you’re done, at least for that particular corner.

Just as Tuthill said, left-foot braking acts like a fifth damper, except the forces it allows you to control are lateral and longitudinal, rather than vertical. The process becomes addictive; what was once counter-intuitive now feeling surprisingly natural as you play steering, throttle and brake inputs against one another or in harmony depending on what you want the 911 to do.

Once this clicks in your brain your left foot is able to rotate the car, let it slide or hold it in a strange mid-slide stasis. Brain suitably re-wired (I always knew rally drivers weren’t wired up correctly – now I know this to be true!) driving at speed along this snow-covered country road is to experience something beyond anything I’ve ever attempted before. Not least because there are moments when I would kill for three legs and feet in order to work throttle, brake and clutch independently. It gets a bit busy in the footwell.

Even with a rudimentary grasp of things I’m finding the 911 will do things I never imagined I’d be attempting on such a confined road. It’s empowering, because it enables you to attack an unfamiliar road with greater confidence, certain that you can position the car for whatever’s thrown at it.

I may have failed to embrace his technique, but in trying I’ve gained vivid insight into the bond Waldegård must have had with the 911. From the snow of Sweden to the heat dust (and mud!) of Kenya, he never lost that winning touch. Few could claim to know Stuttgart’s quirky sports car better. I only wish that I’d had the opportunity to sit next to him and witness the magic firsthand.