DEREK BELL

The Legend

‘IT WAS A PLEASURE TO DRIVE THE 917 AGAIN, EVEN IF I WAS DISPIRITED TO SEE IT HAD BEEN PAINTED IN MARTINI COLOURS’

Despite my best efforts to slacken my pace a little, 2019 is rapidly becoming a blur. The Goodwood Festival of Speed in July was a case in point. I always try to support the Duke of Richmond, and am in awe of what he has achieved with his many and various events since 1993. And I honestly believe this year’s running was the best yet.

I think part of that was because I was reunited with an old flame, one I hadn’t seen in 48 years. The Festival was all about celebrating milestones, and 50 years of the Porsche 917 was one of the headline acts. To get my bum in the car that Jo Siffert and I raced in 1971, and in which I did 246mph down the Mulsanne Straight that year, was beyond special.

I have mentioned the 917 quite a few times in this column before, but do please forgive me for doing so again. My sportscar career effectively started with this very machine. It was the jumping-off point for the next three decades. It was such a pleasure to see the car again, let alone drive it, even if I was rather dispirited to see it had been painted in Martini colours rather than the periodcorrect Gulf livery. From the inside, it’s just as I remembered. The seat is the same, the cloth on top of the dash is still peeling off.

It started first turn of the key, too. It still comes as a surprise to many enthusiasts whenever I mention that the 917 has an ignition key rather than a starter button. I have never thought of myself as being the sentimental sort, but I will admit to having had a lump in my throat as I guided it up the hill.

To be honest, though, the Festival weekend was hard going, even if I did enjoy myself. When I signed on as a driver, the lady behind the counter said: ‘Ah, Mr Bell, I see you’re down to drive six cars.’ I was rather taken aback, because I had thought it was only one!

First thing on the Friday morning, I was out in the exCharles Pozzi Ferrari 365 GTB/4 Competizione, which was similar to the Ecurie Francorchamps car I raced at Le Mans in 1972. It was an animal, but fun all the same. By the time I got back to the paddock it was 9.15am. I was famished so thought I’d have some breakfast.

That idea was thwarted when I was accosted by some nice chaps at Abarth and pushed into the 3-litre sportsprototype from the Möll Collection. This meant waiting

in line for one-and-a-half hours before I could take it up the hill. My stomach was making noises louder than the car by the time I finally lined up for my run. Arturo Merzario was in the 2-litre Abarth SE010 I raced for the works team in the early ’70s. I remember that being a joy to drive, even if it perhaps wasn’t as good as the contemporary Lola. The V8 car I drove at Goodwood, though, was something else entirely. It was built originally for Continental hillclimbs and darted all over the place. It was a real handful. And did I mention that I hadn’t had any breakfast?

Just as I made it back down the hill, I was roped in to doing something else. It’s that kind of event. There was so much to take in. I must admit that I didn’t want to miss anything, but I was dragging by the time Sunday rolled around. I had a smile on my face, that’s for sure, but I didn’t know what my name was, let alone what car I was driving.

Another recent highlight was the wonderful celebration of Charlie Whiting’s life that was staged in the run-up to the British Grand Prix at Silverstone. More than 500 people attended, including all of the current ‘Eff One’ drivers.

I cannot claim to have been great mates with Charlie, but we were certainly friendly. I knew him from my single-seater days when he was spannering Brabhams for Bernie Ecclestone. He went on to excel in so many different roles in motorsport, not least governing Formula 1. He made the rules and he ran the show. Bernie may have been the public face of Grand Prix racing, but Charlie was the man who made things happen. He stayed out of the limelight, which is how he preferred it.

He was hugely popular the length and breadth of the pitlane, too. If ever a driver or team manager protested one of his decisions, there may have been a heated discussion, but invariably Charlie would suggest they retire to the bar afterwards. He didn’t have a meanspirited bone in his body.

The ‘do’ at Silverstone was a remarkable occasion, and I need to single out Sebastian Vettel for his heartfelt eulogy. It had everyone spellbound. As for the British Grand Prix, it was a superb race. I was also delighted to learn that the Northamptonshire venue will retain the race for another five years. I have a sneaking suspicion that Charlie would have thoroughly approved.