Final lap

Iwas shocked to hear that one of New Zealand’s true characters, Clark Proctor, had passed away suddenly on 26 June. Clark was one of the greats of Kiwi motor sport and considered by many to be one of the country’s most versatile racers.

I was fortunate enough to know Clark quite well, as I followed the Targa event for several years and had many opportunities to witness his all-or-nothing driving prowess. He was always happy to take the time to stop and chat about the event and update me on his progress.

Back in 2009, I caught up with ‘Metalman’ Clark Proctor to check out his newly rebuilt Nissan V6 turbo-powered Mk1 Ford Escort, which was in the final stages of preparation for the upcoming Dunlop Targa. After the first few minutes with Clark, I discovered that not only was he supremely passionate about his motor sport, cars, and life in general, including his family and business, but also fiercely competitive. He was always proactively searching to improve his own performance and that of the piece of machinery wrapped around him. I spent a fascinating couple of hours with Clark as he took me back through his life, dominated by motor racing, family, and business.

A week later, I was standing at Pukekohe racetrack with Adam, our shutter man, wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into, as Clark had promised us a ride if we wanted to come and snap a few more shots. He and his team were carrying out some final testing on the Escort and, as I walked over to the pit area, the grin stretching from ear to ear on Clark’s face told its own story. Sitting next to the Escort was Clark’s Nissan GT-R (R35) Skyline and, before I knew what was happening, he said, “Come on, let’s go around in the slow one first,” as he climbed into the Skyline.

As we rocketed out of pit lane down towards the first right-hander, it seemed to take my body a few seconds to adjust to the G-force, as this thing was propelled into the corner with its left front wheel dancing along the ripple strip. Clark was his usual relaxed, passionate self, talking me through every twist and curve before trundling down the back straight at around 250-plus kilometres per hour. Around the hairpin, through the Ss, over the hill, and down the front straight was all a blur, although Clark’s commentary was undoubtedly the highlight. The ease with which he wrestled this heavy, fourwheel-drive monster around the track was fairly impressive to say the least.

“Not too shabby for a road car,” he said as we idled into the pit area. Then, with a cheeky grin, he said, “Now let’s go around in something fast.”

The Escort was a completely different ball game. Once I was harnessed in securely I wasn’t really sure what to expect. It wasn’t long before Clark’s commentary started and we were off. I realized that Clark had some idea what he was doing when we were in the Skyline, but in the Escort his expertise and skill really came to the fore. As we headed for the back straight, there was little doubt that the Escort was a serious piece of kit.

“What do ya reckon?” Clark yelled, and the only thing I could think of in reply was, “This thing is insane.”

The acceleration was so fierce that I struggled to keep my head turned towards the digital speedometer, just to see how fast we were going. From what I could see, it was just a blur of numbers. I did see 200kph, though, before Clark put his foot hard on the stop pedal. I felt my eyes wanting to pop out of their sockets and we ground to a standstill.

“Not bad for an old Escort,”’ Clark said, smiling as we took off again for another red hot lap.

That was an experience I’ll never forget. Thank you, Clark, for being so generous with your time — and scaring the crap out of me. RIP.