Feature: racing is tranquillity
The death of Sir Stirling Moss on 12 April brought an end to a remarkable life. Remarkable because his name continued to resonate nearly 60 years after he had retired from the cockpit. Remarkable because, despite never being Formula One world champion, he was more remembered and admired than many who had won the title.
If his CV failed to carry the accolade as champion, the rest more than made up for the omission thanks to an astonishing breadth of achievement. The fact that these statistics will remain unequalled says everything about a natural talent married to a relentless work ethic driven by the love of competing and driving quickly.
Before his enforced retirement in 1962, Moss had competed in 529 races, not counting hill climbs and rallies. He won 212 of them and raced more than 100 different types of car. Of the 66 world championship Grands Prix he took part in between 1951 and 1961, he won 16; a gure that would have been even more impressive but for a preference for racing uncompetitive British cars and suffering an excessive share of mechanical misfortune.
Within reason, Moss would drive anything, anywhere. One of his favourite expressions – “Speed is tranquillity” – was re ected in a visibly relaxed style and facial expression when at the wheel. It had been evident from the moment, as a nine-year-old, he drove an old Austin Seven saloon around elds adjacent to the family home in the English county of Berkshire.
A more public display of such nascent talent followed his father’s (a successful dentist) purchase of a Cooper-jap, one of the legions of little racers with spindly wheels powered by a 500 cm3 motorcycle engine. Originally known as the 500 Club, these rear-engine cars were conceived as a simple and cheap way to get motorsport operational again after World War Two. By 1948, when Moss took part in his rst single-seater race on an aerodrome circuit in Yorkshire, the 500s were considered eligible for a new Formula 3 series introduced across Europe. In the face of erce competition, Moss won the support race to the inaugural World Championship Grand Prix at Silverstone in May 1950, a feat he repeated at Monaco a week later.
His reputation grew suf ciently to attract the attention of Enzo Ferrari, who offered Stirling a drive in a Formula 2 race at Bari. Understandable excitement was followed by intense disappointment when, after making the long trip by road to Italy, Moss and his father were told, without explanation, that the car in question had been reserved for another driver. Moss swore never to drive for the Italian marque; a pact that would intensify the satisfaction in later years when he managed to beat the red cars. Before then, however, he had to get himself into F1.
An enquiry about joining Mercedes on its return to F1 in 1954 led to a polite refusal on the basis that Moss lacked Grand Prix experience. As a means of dealing with such a reasonable comment, Moss and his supporters bought a Maserati 250F for the 1954 season. He won a non-championship race at Aintree and did enough in the Grands Prix to warrant works support from Maserati, the Italian team clearly seeing the potential, particularly when Moss led its home Grand Prix at Monza until an oil pipe broke with 10 laps to go.
Mercedes was suitably convinced and signed Moss as number two to Juan Manuel Fangio, a position Moss relished as he watched and learnt in the tracks of the reigning world champion. Moss scored his rst Grand Prix
win at Aintree in 1955 but the Englishman was never sure whether Fangio had tactfully allowed a popular home victory. When Mercedes withdrew from motorsport at the end of the year (following a tragedy at Le Mans when its car went into the crowd), Moss was signed by Maserati and won at Monaco and Monza, nishing runner-up in the championship to Fangio’s Ferrari.
Moss’ dream of winning races in a British car was met in 1957 when the wealthy industrialist, Tony Vandervell, produced the Vanwall. Reliability problems appeared to have struck once again in the British Grand Prix when Moss was forced to pit with a mis
re while leading. But a switch to the Vanwall driven by Tony Brooks – recovering from an accident at Le Mans a few weeks before – led to a momentous all-british win at Aintree.
Fangio, meanwhile, had proved unstoppable. When the Argentine scored his fth world title in 1957 and retired a year later, Moss became the undisputed heir. Yet, despite wins in four Grands Prix, the 1958 championship went to Mike Hawthorn’s consistency as the
Ferrari driver accumulated more points, albeit with just one victory. (Moss would have been champion had he not engaged in a sel ess act that would enhance his integrity as a sportsman; see my column on page 38).
Vanwall’s decision to quit led to Moss agreeing to race a Cooper-climax for his friend and private entrant, Rob Walker. Moss would take the dark blue car, with its trademark white hoop on the nose, to victories in the 1959 Portuguese and Italian Grands Prix. A ne win at Monaco in 1960 was followed by an even better one a year later; at the wheel of Walker’s ageing Lotus 18 with its four-cylinder Climax, Moss used his skill and stamina to outrun the V6 Ferraris of Phil Hill, Wolfgang von Trips and Richie Ginther during 100 laps of the famous street circuit. Proving that win had been down to more than a nimble car, Moss outclassed the Ferraris again on the fearsome and wet 14-mile Nürburgring in Germany.
Recognition of such virtuosity ultimately came from no higher an authority than Enzo Ferrari, Moss casting his resentment aside to accept the unparalleled offer of a works Ferrari, painted in Walker’s colours, for the 1962 season. Sadly, we never did get to see how that potentially golden partnership would work out.
On Easter Monday – for reasons that were never explained – Moss’ Lotus went straight on at a fast right-hander and hit an earth bank at Goodwood, a circuit he knew intimately. It took 40 minutes to cut the unconscious driver from the wreckage. He remained in a coma for a month, the national news outlets carrying regular bulletins as he began to make a gradual recovery. A private test session in 1963 would reveal his re exes had been dulled; the thought process no longer intuitive. Moss announced his retirement, a decision he would later regret to have made without due allowance for the necessary recovery period.
Knighted in 2000, Moss would continue to be his usual energetic presence at historic race meetings until, at the age of 86, he fell ill during a trip to the Far East in late 2016. He never fully recovered.
Stirling Moss will live on for as long as great racing drivers are discussed. Part of the attraction, of course, was the name itself. “Apparently, my parents were thinking about calling me Hamish,” said Stirling. “Thank God they didn’t…”