Having ‘been there, done that’ Andy decided to quit motor racing. He walked away at the right time — at the top of his game. The Elfin was sold. Its trailer was converted to a pie cart, the engine went into a boat, and the car finally got its correct alloy engine.
Andy went back to full-time farming near Masterton, until the day in 1974 that a helicopter pilot took him for a ride to spray thistles. That was it. Andy is still an avid follower of motor sport, particularly Formula One. He maintains the Ferrari link with a 456 road car, a stunning-looking car that he happily says is the most unreliable one he’s ever owned. On the positive side, its engine, brakes and steering are nothing short of brilliant.
Talking to Andy, there’s still evidence of the cheeky demeanour and devil-may-care attitude that got him into a few scrapes, and saw him spend so many years living on the edge. He still thoroughly enjoys life and finds it hugely entertaining, or makes it entertaining, just as he always did. Here’s a man who is comfortable in his own skin, satisfied with what he’s done and where he’s been.
Five years in top-level national motor sport, racing against five world champions and living to look back on it, is a significant achievement, and yet Andy is almost unknown today. Not that it bothers him in the slightest. A scrapbook with a few cuttings, a photo album with some loose photos, a few more framed and hung on the wall, and one end of a broken Climax crankshaft used as a paperweight are the only visible signs of that time. Intangible but no less real are the full memory banks.
Motor-racing fans who witnessed Andy in action in the Brabhams, and especially in the glamorous Ferrari LM or purposeful Elfin, won’t need reminding that he was a champion — and he’s definitely not forgotten.