The big interview: Mike Wilds
The decorated racer, who counts Formula One and Le Mans appearances in his glittering career, talks to Total 911 about his racing exploits and passion for Porsche
The former Le Mans and Formula One driver reflects on his remarkable career, and explains his love for his 3.2 Carrera Clubsport
Total 911: Mike, you got yourself on the racing grid in the ’70s without a big pot of money. How did you manage that?
Mike Wilds: It was down to a garage in Chiswick, West London. As a school boy, my brother raced motorbikes and that’s where I got the racing bug from. I’d passed a garage called the ‘Checkered Flag’ and pressed my nose against the window. There was always a range of different cars in there from Lotus Elites to D-type Jaguars and they fascinated me. I was drawn to four wheels rather than two. I eventually got a Saturday job there washing the cars and it stemmed from there. They had a racing team and asked me to a race meeting, and that was it. I decided that was what I wanted to do, but it was tough coming from a family that had no money to make it happen.
They must have been supportive, because getting into motorsport is difficult for any walk of life…
Yes, I think it was different then. It was easier because it was a sport rather than a business like it is now. I could drive for lots of teams if I just signed a cheque, however in my day I had no money so I got an apprenticeship and went to Fleet Street as a photographer, which I loved and I still love photography now. However, all I kept thinking was how can I get out of this and get into motorsport? I wanted to do it, so I worked in a pub in Kew Green and started to save. I joined the 750 Motor Club and was offered a little DRW Mk1 for £280 including the trailer. I had £60. I spoke to my parents but they didn’t have the money, but what they did say is that they would be the guarantors so I borrowed the rest and one October night, I paid the £280 and that was it. I parked it outside our flat, covered in a tarpaulin and it sat there until I did a sprint in 1965 at Brands Hatch to see how I got on. I was terrified because I spun it twice!
It sounds like you progressed quickly in a short amount of time…
Sure. I raced that car seven times that year when I could afford to do it. I was invited to the 750 Motor
Club’s dinner and dance, and I didn’t really want to go but my parents convinced me. What I didn’t realise is the 750 Motor Club had already told my parents that I had won an award for the Best Newcomer to racing, so it was great to go there and get an award. As I walked back from collecting my award, I walked back to our table and my parents were standing up with a bottle of champagne and it was the best feeling ever. They were so proud.
In 1966, I got to Brands Hatch and everything was going well, up in the top three. A gentleman in front of me spun so I thought, great, I am going to come 2nd. He spun at Paddock but unfortunately he came back and managed to push me into the grass and I hit the barrier. The car rolled and had no seat belt. Luckily, my head hit the ignition and fuel pump switch and turned it all off, so when it inverted I was unconscious and snapped my pelvis in half, broke all my ribs and my arms and I woke up a week later in quite a state. It wrote the car off and I was taken off to hospital where I stayed for many months. A group of people at the 750 Motor Club got together and fixed the chassis; my father used to tow the car from Chiswick to my hospital in Dartford, and if he parked in a certain spot of the car park, I could see the car on the trailer and he would show me how the rebuild was going as I was super keen to get back into the car. I raced it a few times after that, but unfortunately I had so many debts that I had to sell it, and that was the only race car I ever owned.
How did you get into Formula One?
I was doing well in Formula 5000 when I had a call from Mo Nunn who had a Formula One car that I could drive. I went to Austria, Italy and Canada but I couldn’t qualify the car. One of the main reasons was that every time I turned the car into a lefthand corner, it lost fuel pressure. It was also very competitive: you had 30 cars for 25 places so you had to be on the pace. It was frustrating and I was getting upset that I couldn’t qualify, so Mo said he was going to rebuild the fuel system. When we got to Watkins Glen the car qualified. I was next to Graham Hill on the grid and in front of me was Ronnie Peterson, who was my hero. I couldn’t believe it. But then it all went wrong again. I did the warm-up lap, was on the grid and the fuel system started playing up again, but it was the pressure release valve that packed up and the engine wouldn’t function properly. They lapped me four or five times before I got it to the pits. It took them another three or four laps before they found the valve. Mo said to me to go out to get some experience, which I did. I had a dice with my dear friend Chris Amon and I finished 14th unclassified, but I had done a Grand Prix. Chris was leaving BRM and I had a call to see if I would be interested in driving for them in 1975.
Did it go somewhere with BRM?
I had a strange series of meetings with Louis Stanley. He asked me to have a meeting, and he said he had never heard of me but he had seen me drive and would I be interested. I said of course. We flew to Argentina in ’75 to do the Grand Prix. I like to understand the cars that I am racing, so I had a good look around the car and when I got into the paddock at Buenos Aires I looked at the engine and it was the same engine I had blown up in Snetterton, they had whelped it to the block. I asked if it would survive, to which they said yes. They were struggling financially so there was a lack of engines and they thought the best engine they had was the one in the car. I