DEREK BELL

The Legend

The Sebring 12 Hours. I have always had a lovehate relationship with that race, since going there for the first time back in 1971. I was a newly minted JW Automotive driver, competing in the World Sports Car Championship, and I made my debut with the team during the Buenos Aires 1000km in January of that year. To our great surprise, Jo Siffert and I won in our Porsche 917K.

Then came Sebring, an old airfield circuit which was bumpy enough to give you blurred vision. I vividly recall being pitched off the track in practice after my car’s suspension collapsed. It happened in front of Mario Andretti, who was driving for Ferrari. We both chatted about it later, wondering why anyone would want to spend time at such a dump. In the race Jo and I came home fifth overall, but that visit poisoned me against the place.

The thing is, the 12 Hours is one of the few genuinely classic motor races left, and it’s one that I managed not to win. Having said which, I still maintain that Jan Lammers, Andy Wallace and I should have been declared the victors in ’95, our Spice having been classified in second place behind the winning Ferrari. I’ve lost count of how many IMSA officials have told me down the line that a time-scoring error cost us outright honours.

But I digress. The point is, this is the oldest endurance race in the USA and it matters. This year’s event – the 65th 12 Hours – was utterly brilliant. What’s more, I went there merely as a race fan. I slept in a motorhome, walked around the track and had a ball. The circuit may still be rough enough to loosen your fillings but more than 150,000 spectators were on hand, which speaks volumes. You can’t say that about similar races in Europe.

It helped that there were some fantastic battles in each of the many classes, even if the Cadillacs (with Dallara underpinnings) were always going to win outright unless something unexpected happened. It didn’t, so Ricky and Joran Taylor repeated their earlier victory at the Daytona 24 Hours with their father Wayne’s team. They were capably supported by their third driver, British singleseater convert Alex Lynn. I was delighted for him and I hope it heralds more big wins in his chosen discipline.

Sadly, I attended Sebring barely a week after hearing that John Surtees had died. This news took a while to process because my friendship with ‘Big John’, my former boss, had come to mean a lot in later years.

To be honest, I can’t recall the exact details of how I came to drive for him in the 1970 US Grand Prix at Watkins Glen, other than that it involved my then-backer Tom Wheatcroft lending Team Surtees our Cosworth DFV engine. It had previously resided in the back of our Tasman Brabham, and had been run by Team Lotus prior to that, so it was getting on a bit. Nevertheless, it powered John’s latest car, the TS7, in the season finale and I absolutely adored that car.

It was a superb little racer, essentially a Formula 2 car with a Formula 1 engine. I remember managing to overtake Reine Wisell’s Lotus 72 for what I think was sixth or seventh place, only for the clutch to start vibrating. It got progressively worse so I backed off a thousand or so revs just to ensure I finished. I placed sixth overall and claimed one World Championship point, and Reine finished third. John was delighted, as was Tom, and shortly afterwards we all got together to discuss doing a full season in ’71.

Wheattie and John had slightly different ideas regarding the budget, but I thought something might happen. And something indeed did happen, in that Rolf Stommelen came along armed with £30,000 courtesy of Ford Cologne, and nabbed the drive. I subsequently drove for John in Formula 2 on occasion, but by the time I did some more Formula 1 with him in ’74, Team Surtees was on a downward trajectory. My team-mate Jochen Mass and I had a job on our hands merely qualifying.

I would have loved to have seen John repeat the success he had enjoyed as a competitor. Sadly, Team Surtees never did win a World Championship Grand Prix. John was an extraordinary man, and very singleminded. That may have counted against him running his own show, but it also propelled him to greatness as a rider and driver, which is how he is rightfully remembered.

W hat tends to be forgotten, though, is that in addition to his great success on two wheels and in Formula 1, John was also a superb sports car driver. He was 1966 Can-Am champion, after all. That was the original ‘knife fight rules’ series, which only goes to prove that he was as hard as nails. ‘Il Grande John’ was a one-off, and I am forever grateful to have known him.

‘SEBRING WAS BUMPY ENOUGH TO BLUR YOUR VISION. I WAS PITCHED OFF AFTER THE SUSPENSION COLLAPSED’