BRITISH GP MEMORIES
F1 luminaries recall the first time they visited the British Grand Prix
The British Grand Prix has been the bedrock of the Formula 1 calendar since it kicked off the world championship in 1950 – but its history dates back further still. Here, a hand-picked selection of F1 luminaries share cherished memories of their first experience of this fantastic event
From the moment 100,000 spectators – my dad and his brother among them – flocked to Silverstone in 1948 for what was then called the RAC Grand Prix, Britain’s major motor race would never fail to leave an indelible impression. This may have been two years before the advent of the world championship, but the first grand prix in Britain since the deprivations of World War II was something to be savoured.
The queue of traffic stretched several miles to the other side of Towcester. There was no spectator fencing; just a rope and straw bales. Barbed wire and bits of abandoned aircraft were scattered throughout the former airfield. The so-called toilets would have the entire venue instantly closed down by today’s health standards. But none of that mattered.
This was an international motor race with entries from Maserati and Talbot-lago, driven by ‘foreigners’ with romantic names, such as Luigi Villoresi, Alberto Ascari and Baron ‘Toulo’ de Graffenried. It set a yardstick for reminiscence that would be continued through the decades as the British Grand Prix developed at Silverstone and switched to Aintree and
Brands Hatch from time to time.
My indoctrination came at Aintree in 1959, my father and I having travelled by boat from Belfast to Liverpool and booked into the Exchange Hotel. Memories are random but nonetheless colourful and ingrained: breakfast in a grand dining room with a bunch of distinguished-looking gentlemen sporting impressive official passes on the lapels and arms of tweed jackets; the Daily Express carrying a couple of broadsheet pages devoted to what is clearly an important event; riding on an ‘electric train’ to Aintree; joining an enthusiastic crowd heading towards the imposing edifice of the race course; taking a seat high in the permanent grandstand overlooking Tatts Corner; urging on the lime green BRM of Stirling Moss in its pursuit of Jack Brabham’s winning Cooper; thinking these smart restaurants and facilities must be common at every grand prix (subsequent visits to Silverstone and Brands Hatch would disabuse me of that); and, above all, the dreamy feeling of being swept along by a life-changing day.
Many, from all walks of F1, have been through the same experience in connection with the British Grand Prix. Here are just a few of their memories:
When I was in my early teens, I was racing stock cars with my dad and Uncle Stan. We would never have gone to the British Grand Prix because that was another form of motor racing in our minds; it was ‘them’ and ‘us’. We raced on ovals; we were sprint car drivers. If I’m honest, I didn’t really know what Formula 1 was.
I recall watching the 1976 British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch when the crowd went mad because James Hunt was not going to be allowed to take the restart following a first-corner collision. But the one that really sticks in my mind was the grand prix at Brands Hatch, just two years later. I was taking part in the F3 support race; there was a massive shunt on the first lap – and I got the blame for that. Wasn’t my fault, of course. I made a great start from the front row, moved over and the guys tripped over each other. Sounds like something I might hear as an F1 steward these days!
I was very much aware that the British Grand Prix was a massive event. At the same time, I saw Mario Andretti, Ronnie Peterson and guys like that and began to think that maybe one day I could be one of them. I was already racing against some very good drivers such as Nelson Piquet and, of course, Nelson was about to have his first Formula 1 race [for Ensign] at the German Grand Prix a few weeks later.
So, having come along with my F3 car run by two mechanics – one was a diesel engineer, the other a chippy [carpenter], I was the only one who could change gear ratios! – I suddenly began to see the bigger picture thanks to that weekend at Brands in 1978. It was in 1998, right before I was due to start working for British American Racing. My girlfriend had bought me a ticket and I came to watch the British Grand Prix at Silverstone. It was raining, windy and cold. Horrible weather. I remember seeing Jackie Stewart in the grandstand I was in, and going up to him and saying: “Hi. My name is Otmar and I’ll be working with you soon in F1.”
That’s my main memory. I can’t remember who won! [It was Michael Schumacher, for Ferrari.] I was aware that this was a very big event. It was sold out. And I recall that the traffic was horrendous. I was living in Essex and it took hours – hours – to get home.
I could see there was a sense of history about the place. But the thing that really struck me about the British Grand Prix was how passionate and knowledgeable the fans were; much more than I had come across anywhere else.
“I WAS TAKING PART IN THE F3 SUPPORT RACE; THERE WAS A MASSIVE SHUNT ON THE FIRST LAP – AND I GOT THE BLAME FOR THAT. WASN’T MY FAULT, OF COURSE”
We lived just over a mile from Brands Hatch and I remember there was great excitement in 1964 when the British and European Grand Prix, as it was known that year, came to Brands for the first time. They had added the extension to the circuit not long before, so the perimeter fences were a bit haphazard. It was easy to climb over or under them, go into the woods we were used to walking through, and sneak up to somewhere between Hawthorn and Westfield.
I was actually more interested in the touring cars and it was not uncommon to have the F1 stars take part in these support races. Frank Gardner was a big hero of mine at the time, and he was down to drive a Ford Lotus Cortina alongside Jackie Stewart and Sir John Whitmore. Seeing these cars coming all the way through South Bank with the inside front wheel in the air was just amazing. We didn’t go much further into the circuit because we climbed up some trees and watched the F1 cars from there.
We didn’t actually see the grand prix itself. When my brother and I told Mum and Dad what we’d done, they warned us against trying to do that on race day because of the likelihood of getting caught! Back then, it was a bit of fun and I don’t think I took in the significance of what we were doing. I obviously didn’t realise that in ten years’ time I would be working as a mechanic in motorsport, making a living out of what was a hobby.
“I WAS ACTUALLY MORE INTERESTED IN THE TOURING CARS AND IT WAS NOT UNCOMMON TO HAVE THE F1 STARS TAKE PART IN THESE SUPPORT RACES”
Silverstone was an annual pilgrimage for Irish fans. We would take a Transit van that could hide a multitude of sins. Not only did we live in this thing, the van acted as a kind of Trojan horse. We would pool what little cash we had to buy entrance tickets for the two guys sitting in the front of the van. Meanwhile, in the back, half of Dublin would be buried beneath the sleeping bags and rubbish. There wasn’t the security then – I’m talking the mid-70s – that we see now and the poor guys at the gate probably didn’t even want to think about investigating the back of a vehicle driven by a couple of unwashed raggedy-arsed Irishmen.
But Silverstone was the place of our dreams. Our favourite vantage point was a big advertising hoarding overlooking Copse. It cost us nothing for such a great view, and it was high enough to keep us out of reach while pretending we couldn’t hear security shouting at us to come down. It was the highlight of our year. I was racing in the States. I really got into F1 in 1987 and my outstanding memory is watching the British GP on television as Nigel Mansell chased down Nelson Piquet. For a 16-year-old enthusiast, it made an enormous impression to see these legendary names racing the iconic Williams on such a historic race track – and putting on an amazing spectacle. It seemed a long way away from me and everything I was doing at the time, but that race alone played a big part in building my love of the sport to an even greater level.
My first actual visit was in 1994 when I was racing in the F3 support race. Even though I was a little closer to the grand prix itself, I still felt on the fringe because, of course, Bernie Ecclestone wouldn’t let mere F3 people anywhere near the F1 paddock! All the rock stars, so to speak, were kinda out of reach, which merely added to the sense of awe and sense of occasion. I was watching ‘live’ and it did nothing to detract from the feeling of excitement that came with seeing the titans of the sport perform in such a historic place.
“WE WOULD BUY ENTRANCE TICKETS FOR THE TWO GUYS SITTING IN THE FRONT OF THE VAN. MEANWHILE, IN THE BACK, HALF OF DUBLIN WOULD BE BURIED BENEATH THE SLEEPING BAGS AND RUBBISH”
Rather than leave us at home, my parents would take us to the track and, if at Silverstone, we’d have to fend for ourselves in the Doghouse Club, which had been set up by my mum and other racing drivers’ wives as a place for them to go. I can’t remember what age I was when I first went to Silverstone – very young, obviously – but I gradually became conscious of being there and being part of what was a very big event. I would be aware of a lot of kerfuffle and a very large crowd of people – and, of course, all the noise. But I couldn’t actually see anything!
As I got older, I was allowed to wander around the infield and stand almost next to the track. I was free to roam wherever I wanted; I thought that was normal! After my dad [Graham Hill, 1962 and 1968 world champion] died [in 1975], we didn’t go so much but, as I gradually moved from bikes to car racing, I became more interested in what was happening. I would get the gracious Bernie pass to access the track and I started to view it as a potential competitor, which was very different to how I had seen it before.
I would look at the Formula 1 cars and think ‘Wow!’ I remember being on the outside of what was then Abbey Curve when Keke Rosberg set that fastest ever lap as he took pole with the Williams-honda turbo in 1985. There was such a sense of history at Silverstone compared with Brands Hatch. That, and coming away most times with a windswept feeling!