THE OCTANE INTERVIEW
This veteran proved as adept as a commentator as he did across all formulae in a stellar 30-plus-year racing career
In conversation with racer David Hobbs
Few drivers have proved as versatile as David Hobbs. He raced in Formula 1, Indycar, sports cars, saloons and even NASCAR, proved himself against the very best rising stars in Formula Junior, and twice won his class at Le Mans. In 1971 he won the US Formula 5000 Championship, and 12 years later became TransAm champion in a Chevrolet Camaro.
And it all started in his mother’s Morris Oxford, which, like each of the family cars as David was growing up, had been fitted with his father’s own design of automatic gearbox, the Hobbs Mecha-Matic. Despite interest from a number of manufacturers – most significantly Ford – the gearbox never did make it into the mainstream, but the project left behind a number of tantalising ‘what ifs’.
‘In 1963,’ recalls Hobbs, ‘when dad’s company finally went under, in the workshop was a four-speed automatic for Colin Chapman for his Formula 1 car. They never did run it, but it was there on the floor. Colin was so impressed – it was ready to go.’
Hobbs’ own career had started in 1959. After a couple of outings in the Morris, his attention turned to his father’s Jaguar XK140. At the time, the young Hobbs was working at Browns Lane but admits that he was ‘a hopeless apprentice’.
‘All I could think about was racing dad’s Jag,’ he says. ‘Like the Morris, it had Michelin X tyres and I didn’t understand the ramifications of race tyres or anything like that. I went off to Oulton Park and on the last lap it got away from me. The next thing I know, it’s upside-down. Then, on the way home, the bonnet flew open and that did more damage than the crash.
‘I had it fixed up by a guy who worked at the bodyshop. He knocked out the dents at his house, then resprayed it. Unfortunately, because he had to do it in the evening after work, the bloody thing came out matt!’
It quickly became apparent that Hobbs had plenty of talent, but his team also garnered attention for other reasons: ‘I’d made up this makeshift hood and the bodywork had this matt finish. I’d taken the right-hand headlight out and made a tube to the carburettors – a sort of quasi cold-air box – and I’d taken the bumpers off for “aerodynamics”.
‘Lofty [England] was often the clerk of the course at Silverstone and he’d got to know me. I was on pole for a club race and he walked past as I was standing by the car. He was managing director of Jaguar and I was only an apprentice, so he was well above my pay grade. He looked at the car and said: “Smart turn-out, Hobbs.” But I did win.’
Hobbs acquired a Lotus Elite for 1961 and again the car was fitted with his father’s gearbox – which led to a few awkward moments with officials: ‘When we got to the Nürburgring in May, we had to go and see the stewards. “Herr Hobbs – one of your competitors has protested your car and said that it’s not homologated.” They had to move us from the 1300cc GT class to the 1600cc sports-car class. That had Porsche RSKs in it, and they were potential overall winners.
‘As luck would have it, the one that was leading dropped out on the last lap and we won the class. Even better, the Germans had this method for the prize money – as the cars got bigger, they got more money. So, the 1600cc sports car class offered more money than the 1300cc class!’
In 1962, Hobbs shared the Elite with Richard Attwood, and in return had a drive in Attwood’s Midland Racing Partnership Formula Junior Cooper. His performance led to a full-time seat with MRP for ’63.
‘They paid me £25 per race. The first meeting was at Oulton Park and I came second to Pete Arundell, who was the king of Formula Junior. The team’s pleasure was muted somewhat by the fact that I’d beaten Richard, who was really their intended star.
‘My best race was at Silverstone, at the International Trophy meeting. There was something magic about that day. Denny [Hulme] and I were locked in combat – I passed him a couple of times and he repassed me, but I knew I could beat him. With about four laps to go, the bloody gearlever knob broke off. I was left with this tiny stub, at which point I naturally dropped back a bit.
‘I got used to pushing it forward with my index finger and pulling it back with my thumb, and I caught him again. He beat me by six feet and on the last lap I broke the lap record. We were something like ten seconds clear of the field.’
Throughout the mid-1960s, Hobbs continued to build his reputation in Lola’s T70, first for David Fletcher, then John Surtees. His performances attracted the attention of the Gulf-backed JWA: ‘David Yorke said “If he’s good enough for Surtees, he’s good enough for us.” I signed with them and did two years in the GT40, which was terrific. That car really was a joy to drive.’
‘WitH about four laps to go, tHe blooDy gearlever knob broke off anD i Was left WitH tHis tiny stub’
In 1968, Hobbs was partnered with Paul Hawkins and they won the Monza 1000km. The following year, Mike Hailwood was his co-driver. ‘I did enjoy racing with them,’ says Hobbs. ‘Hawkins was a riot – a bit of a larrikin, as the Australians say. He was inclined to do some pretty outrageous things, but he was a very good driver. Mike and I had known each other since 1966 and we were already good friends. They both liked a drink and Mike liked the ladies.
‘It was the first time that I’d driven for a proper team. Driving for John Surtees was always a bit haphazard – he had only one mechanic and a helper – but these guys had proper mechanics. There was someone to look after the tyres, and someone to bring you snacks. It was unbelievable to me.’
Hobbs was unexpectedly dropped when JWA switched to the Porsche 917, but during 1969 and ’70 he’d won a number of races for Surtees in Formula 5000. In neither year had he competed in a full season of the American series, but both times he did enough to finish well up in the Championship.
‘[In 1970] we raced against Mark Donohue in Roger Penske’s car. At the end of the year, I got a call from Penske’s right-hand man to say that Roger would like to meet me. Roger says “Here’s the plan, Haabs – we’re going to get a 512 Ferrari and I want you and Mark to drive it at Daytona, Sebring, Watkins Glen and Le Mans.” Great – thank you very much. “Now, Formula 5000 – you’re going to have to leave Surtees. He’s on Firestone, we’re on Goodyear…”.’ The split didn’t go down well with Surtees, but Hobbs hooked up with Carl Hogan to win the 1971 Championship. The 512, meanwhile, was the famous Sunoco-backed car that had a number of Penske modifications.
‘We arrived at Daytona, and Yorke, Wyer and Horsman just about had a fit,’ recalls Hobbs. ‘This car made theirs look like crap. Of course, the Europeans were saying “It’s all spit and polish – how fast is it?” We put it on pole and led handily… Clockwise Hobbs’ GT40 (on left) at Daytona in 1968; early outing in father’s XK140; Merlyn Mk7 in the Grovewood Trophy; sharing the patched-up 512M at Daytona ’71 with Mark Donohue.
‘I did hardly any practice. I went up to Roger at one stage and said “Any chance of getting a few laps in?” He said “Haabs, it’s a 24-hour race – you’re going to get plenty of practice. And by the way, get your hair cut.”
‘It was a little like racing with Gulf again – you suddenly see how a proper team wins races. The mechanics were so loyal and so good, and everything was so meticulously done, right down to the last detail.
‘We led Daytona until, in the middle of the night, Vic Elford blew a tyre. Everybody slowed up, including Mark, and then some dork in a 911, who we’d already lapped about 40 times, thought he was going to make up some time and went charging into us.’
They eventually finished third in the patched-up car. At Sebring, the 512 was again on pole but Donohue hit Pedro Rodríguez and they finished sixth. They retired at Le Mans after a new Ferrari-supplied engine blew up, and at Watkins Glen the steering broke. The car’s potential was never realised.
That year, Penske gave Hobbs his first taste of the Indianapolis 500: ‘I was a bit nervous of Indy, but once I got there I could see why British drivers had done well. It was basically like a high-speed road course – the banking was only nine degrees. It was a bit like going through a bunch of left-handers at somewhere like Spa or Silverstone.
‘In the race, there was a guy called Rick Muther right behind me when my gearbox broke. I slowed up and poor old Rick swerved to miss me and hit the inside wall. I was looking in my mirror thinking “Where the bloody hell has Rick gone?” Of course, he reappeared at seven o’clock low and hit me just ahead of my left-rear wheel, which spun me around and I hit the wall head-on. I got
‘Penske said: “Haabs, it’s a 24-Hour race, you’re going to get Plenty of Practice. and by tHe way, get your Hair cut”’
out, sprinted across the road and then almost got killed by AJ Foyt!’
Hobbs raced four times at Indianapolis, and also competed in CanAm. He calls the 1972 Lola the worst car he’s driven, but loved the McLaren M20 he raced for Roy Wood in ’73. Then, in 1976, he went to Daytona to join the Good Ol’ Boys of NASCAR.
‘I drove the 500 in Benny Parsons’ back-up car,’ he explains, ‘which was pretty knackered. I didn’t do very well at all. I was doing 178mph when they were all doing about 183. Benny comes over and says “I’ll take a look at it, I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, we’ll fix it.” He goes out and does 178, too. He says “Yeah, you and Tex” – my mechanic – “sort it out.” Off he went; I never saw him again.
‘As we came off turn four for the first time, I was right in the middle of the pack and there’s people rubbing each other and rubbing the wall – you could smell rubber and paint, and there’s nothing but dust and shit and newspapers in the air. I thought “Am I doing the right thing here?”’
Hobbs survived the experience and during the 1980s was most often to be found in a Porsche. In ’82, he and John Fitzpatrick ran a 935 and finished fourth at Le Mans.
‘The 935 was a big old thing, but it had some awesome oomph. Terrific torque, terrific top-end power, and, in the end, it was amazingly drivable. We won at Mid-Ohio and we won at Road America and you can’t get much more different than that.’
Those were the early days of Group C, and before long Hobbs found himself in a 956: ‘True ground effect was really quite scary to begin with. Up to a certain point, the faster you went into a corner the more grip you had. That’s a difficult thing to tell yourself.
‘We should have won Le Mans in 1984, when we finished third. It went onto five cylinders at about six o’clock in the morning. On Saturday morning, we’d put a new engine in for the race and as I left the pits the throttle stuck wide open, so I had to do a whole lap on the key. When I came in, there was a bit of rag stuck in the throttle butterfly. The valve in that cylinder burnt out.’
Hobbs called time on racing in 1990, by which time he’d already become well-known as a broadcaster, a path he’d been following since the mid-70s. ‘Graham Hill was going to be Ken Squires’ colour commentator with CBS,’ he recalls, ‘but then Graham died. Ken said “Why don’t you try for the job? I think you’d be pretty good.” I went to CBS and had a most excruciatingly embarrassing interview with a chap called Clarence Cross, who obviously knew nothing about racing.
‘I told him I was Formula 5000 champion. “What’s Formula 5000?” It’s a single-seater, a bit like Formula 1. And I did Indy. “Did you win it?” No. “Oh.” If ever I’ve left an office with a feeling of “Don’t call us, we’ll call you”, that was it.’
The next year, Cross went to the Daytona 500 with his wife and they heard Hobbs on Squires’ radio show: ‘I was on form and Ken asked the right questions. Afterwards, Mrs Cross said “You shouldn’t be racing cars, you should be on the stage.” I pointed at her husband and said “Don’t tell me – tell him!”’ Cross changed his mind and Hobbs commentated for 41 years, moving to live in the USA in 1994. Eloquent and entertaining, he has a bottomless mine of anecdotes, from Le Mans (‘the bee’s knees’) to testing the Jaguar XJ13 (‘great engine, but outdated’).
In 2019, it’ll be 60 years since he started racing, and I remark that he’s come a long way from his mother’s Morris. He chuckles in agreement: ‘The boy done good!’
‘we should have won le mans in 1984. as i left the pits, the throttle stuck wide open. there was a rag stuck in the throttle butterfly’