I'm going to use this thread to post interesting images that I have found which are not necessarily suitable as puzzle pictures. This first item is of one of the dealer-entered MGB cars at the infamous 1965 Sebring 12-hour race - these were works cars but crewed by US based teams. The storm only lasted 40 minutes, but at one point the water was 3 feet deep in parts of the pits complex, and many of the powerful prototype cars couldn't stay out. The winning Chaparral had to slow down to 10mph at times.
Austin-Healey had entered a couple of Sprites. The BMC Competitions Dept. focused on rallying, and thus had to use rally drivers when they wanted to enter a road race - they had Rauno Aaltonen, Timo Makinen and Paddy Hopkirk in these cars, and they had a field day when the monsoon was in force, overtaking just about everything in sight. They simply didn't slow down.
I love this thread concept!
Awesome pic....
Here's a photo of Jack Fairman high on the banking at Monza during the 1957 Race Of Two Worlds, now popularly known as "Monzanapolis". The Italians had decided that it would be good publicity to stage this event, and offered enough financial incentive to get a decent field of American roadsters to make the Atlantic crossing. European opposition was feeble, with David Murray looking at the cash on offer, and sending over 3 D-types with appropriate gear ratios.
The banking at Monza is steep, and then some. It's very difficult to climb, let alone stand upright. The bends at Indianapolis in comparison have only a slight gradient. "Jolly" Jack realised that he had an advantage with his 4-speed box, and at the rolling start he used the gears to good advantage. The American drivers had only 2 speeds, and took a few seconds to get moving - Jack went up the banking rather like cyclists at a velodrome and used the slingshot effect to enhance his speed. As a consequence he led the first lap against all expectations, although it didn't last.
Local legend has it that the guard rail at the top of the banking still has traces of Ault & Wiborg Flag Metallic Blue, and even some smearing of tan leather from the bonnet straps. Fanciful idea, but I rather like legends.
I wish I could find a photo of Jack lifting the Aston Martin out of the ditch at Nurburgring in 1959. Not his finest moment, but a race which confirmed the genius of Stirling Moss in sports cars when up against it.
Jackie Stewart leads Graham Hill in BRM 2.0-litre P261s at the 1966 German Grand Prix. This was the year of the "return to power", but sadly it was a bit of a damp squib. Even though the teams knew the new regulations well in advance, so few of them were prepared - only the wily old campaigner Jack Brabham had really thought it through. Ferrari simply adapted what was essentially a sports car engine, Maserati promised Cooper a new design which turned out to be an update of the venerable 250F, AAR's V12 was too long in making, Lotus waited for the over-complicated BRM H16, and so it goes on. Poor Bruce McLaren tried all sorts, even sleeving-down a Ford Indy engine and in desperation trying Serenissima power (not).
On tight and twisty circuits a bored-out Climax or BRM engine could produce results, and that's what's happening here. Quite why BRM would turn the clock back and endeavour to engineer another over-complicated design after the V16 debacle, is anyone's guess.
This image dates just 8 weeks after the disastrous 1966 Belgian Grand Prix, when heavy rain out in the boondocks caused many runners to end up in the ditch. The fearless Jochen Rindt was executing 360degree spins on the straights! Jackie Stewart famously ended his race upside down in a ditch, with petrol pouring down on him - he was rescued by Graham Hill and Bob Bondurant and reputedly had a spanner taped to his steering wheel for the rest of the season to help him get out by himself. It was the start of his campaign for safer racing and safer circuits which caused much consternation at the time. Yet he was far from a coward when the flag dropped, as this photo shows. As brave as anyone.
Awesome pic and story. Thx for sharing!
Nice thread indeed!
I was trying to find back a picture of a Mercedes pre-silberpfeil (with its paint on) I saw on Facebook...the story it widely known but it's a cool pic nevertheless...
Quote from: Paul Jaray on May 10, 2016, 04:13:17 AM
Nice thread indeed!
I was trying to find back a picture of a Mercedes pre-silberpfeil (with its paint on) I saw on Facebook...the story it widely known but it's a cool pic nevertheless...
Out of curiosity, I just had a look on Google Images, and you're right - no pictures of a painted car except for models. There must be some in existence, because M-B had a very efficient PR department.
I have it...I'd just have to find it back. It was a nice shot of it taken from above.
Here it is!
The moment that broke an 11-year old's heart. Stirling lies unconscious before he is removed - my hero would race no more at the top level. No point in raking up what might or might not have happened, accidents are part of the sport. It's so sad that the great man didn't give himself enough time to rehabilitate, and took what most people now consider to be a premature decision.
The season could have been mighty interesting - Enzo had taken a momentous decision. He had allowed a pukka GP car to be prepared and raced by another team away from Maranello. That year's car was pretty mediocre but in the hands of a maestro it might have won a race or two, and Stirling was in his element when the odds were against him. We would never know.
Quote from: Paul Jaray on May 10, 2016, 04:13:17 AM
Nice thread indeed!
I was trying to find back a picture of a Mercedes pre-silberpfeil (with its paint on) I saw on Facebook...the story it widely known but it's a cool pic nevertheless...
I've just found this photo of the original W25 before testing. It does not have the later headrest and appears to be painted white.
Paul Frere was a Belgian journalist who was more than a bit useful behind the wheel of a racing car. He was reasonably quick, and very reliable. He had no trouble getting a drive at Le Mans, and even got the "guest" drive for Ferrari at the 1956 Belgian Grand Prix, where he finished second overall, admittedly after other faster cars had fallen by the wayside. He won his class in the Mille Miglia in a Chrysler Saratoga - imagine tackling the Raticosa and Futa passes in that great hulk, complete with drum brakes.
He seems to have made no enemies in his life - he is regarded with great affection as a man who could write about motor racing with a degree of authority, because he had walked the walk.
THis is him winning the 1954 Spa Production Car Race, at an average speed of 93mph, in a Chrysler New Yorker - I think this is the hairpin at La Source.
This photo shows Frere at the same spot, on his way to 2nd in a World Championship Grand Prix. If you showed Hollywood the script, they'd say it was too far-fetched.
It's August 1966, and the Rothmans 12-hour race at Surfers Paradise. The race is won by a Ferrari 250LM of Scuderia Veloce driven by Andy Buchanan and none other than Jackie Stewart - I have no idea what he was doing "Down Under" at that time of year, the European aces usually only travelling for the Tasman series in December-March.
The wiining car is seen here overtaking one of the entries in the sub-2000cc sports car class. The ubiquitous Mini-Moke.........
October 1959, and the BRM team are testing at Goodwood in preparation for the next season. They have for comparison purposes the last of the P25 front-engined cars, and the first of the rear-engined P48 cars. BRM had realised they couldn't compete any more with the agile Coopers and Tony Rudd had been ordered to make this new car as soon as possible. So the front end was literally from a P25, hacksawed off Jean Behra's old car, and a new rear end fixed on.
A revised version of the P48 did well the next year, showing some promise, and after the hiatus of the Climax-powered season, BRM finally came good in 1962. Their supporters had waited an awfully long time.
Back in the days when the Targa Florio was a real "man's" event, the entrants used to select cars and drivers very carefully. The sinuous course was pretty miuch unsuitable for very powerful cars (Porsche sent a 917 one year, and after one lap the driver said "enough") and some constructors made cars just for this event. The one driver they all wanted was Nino Vaccarella, the headmaster of a local school, who knew every twist and turn of the track. He was a very competent driver, fast enough without being spectacular, but he brought two things to the team - his local knowledge, and the support of the locals. They cheered so loudly he could hear them above the noise of his engine. He drove for Ferrari more than any other team, and this is him in 1966 in the too-powerful Ferrari P3 he shared with Lorenzo Bandini. The other Scuderia cars that year were 206S models, much more nimble on the course, and which fared better in appalling weather conditions - the car shows signs of the mud which coated much of the track.
Here's some typical graffiti which plastered any available wall, and the road surface, at "Targa Time". This is many years after the event, and is still clear enough to show the name "Nino".
New Zealand driver Chris Amon has sadly passed away at the age of 73 after a battle with cancer. All the usual websites will carry obituaries which will detail his career - all I'm going to say is that he was one of the sport's "nice guys" and deserved far more success than he achieved. Having said that, Chris himself always argued that he was successful, because he lived long enough to retire, when so many of his friends met a tragic end. After Lauda's infamous crash at the Nurburgring Chris took off his helmet and walked away.
Early in 1963, probably very cold, and Jack Brabham is at Goodwood testing his new sports car, the BT5. Two cars were built and entered that season by Ian Walker, but they weren't a match for the Lotus 23. The car was revised as the BT8 for the following season, and was a big success.
Four great drivers on view from the Antipodes. On the left is the irrepressible Paul Hawkins, and to the right are the tall and tough-as-old-boots Frank Gardner, Black Jack himself and the gentle giant Denny Hulme. A set of guys you wouldn't want to upset in a dark alley.
The last of the great city-to-city races, the infamous 1903 Paris-Madrid. The most common image of the winning Mors of Fernand Gabriel shows it at the start, but this one shows just why those races were considered so dangerous. A giant engine, virtually no brakes, archaic suspension systems, poorly maintained roads. Spectators who were oblivious to the dangers.
Ayrton Senna da Silva didn't rate his rivals too highly. I believe he had a grudging respect for Alain Prost, but that's about it. This is famously the only man he had to give way to during his stellar career - one Terry Fullerton (who???!!!), his team mate during his early karting days, and a rival who could regularly beat him. Fullerton's career petered out because of poor decisions, not being in the right place at the right time. Senna turned out to be fairly good.
I idolised Stirling Moss as a child, and held his racing mechanic Alf Francis in awe. He has always had a mystique about him, as if he held magic powers. Genial Rob Walker had endless patience and an almost bottomless wallet, or so it seemed, and the little team often took the wrong turning up an expensive cul-de-sac. Moss and Francis were always looking for an advantage over their rivals, and more often than not it all ended in tears. This is the Cooper-BRM which they built for the 1959 season - an adapted T45 fitted with a powerful BRM engine loaned to them by the patriotic Alfred Owen. It was a handful, and only raced once, at the Aintree 200 at the start of the season - Moss practiced in it at Monaco but decided not to bother any more. BRM got their engine back, and the Cooper was sold on.
Quote from: nicanary on October 20, 2016, 05:07:52 PM
I idolised Stirling Moss as a child,
I still do!
Maybe I just haven't grown up yet...
Quote from: Carnut on October 21, 2016, 07:13:59 AM
Quote from: nicanary on October 20, 2016, 05:07:52 PM
I idolised Stirling Moss as a child,
I still do!
Maybe I just haven't grown up yet...
The greatest living Englishman? He must be in with a shout.
This is the tragic Lee Bible, who died when he took on a drive he simply wasn't cut out to do - previous pilot Ray Keech was offered the seat but turned it down, and Bible should have taken this as a warning. Sadly the promise of fame and fortune won. We've had the Triplex Special as a puizzle - what a monster, all brawn and no technical sophistication, an accident waiting to happen. Poor Bible never stood a chance.
The Triplex as it ended up. Best thing for it.
This is the start of the 1957 Gran Premio di Napoli. Please ignore the red circle which was already on the only image I could find, and the fact that the image appears to have been reversed if my Black Book is correct.
This race is almost legendary amongst motor sport historians. It contained one of the weirdest entry lists ever for a bona fide F1 race, although sadly the oddest contenders are at the back of the gird, quite naturally. Scuderia Ferrari entered 3 cars, two Lancia D50 derived racers and the first of the new Dino cars, an F2 engined car for Luigi Musso. These can all be seen on the front row. Gordini entered one car, there was the usual Maserati 250F contingent of privateers including the appallingly slow Ottorino Volonterio (my granny was faster) and a Connaught for Stuart Lewis-Evans. Then we have the "funnies" - a Porsche RSK sports car, an Osca MT4 sports car, an old Maserati A6GCS sports car, Alan Mann in his archaic HWM, the Lancia-Marino (an AP puzzle), a Fiordelesi (an AP puzzle) and a Ferrari 166 dating from 1949 (which actually qualified faster than 6 of the entries).
I don't know quite what Bernie Ecclestone would have to say about it. Probably "it's OK as long as my share is big enough".
I didn't get to go to this race - it was raining like a monsoon and my father wouldn't have ventured out of the house. It's my native Snetterton in March 1964, and the usual early-season International F1 race which always seemed to attract bad weather. Other major races in the UK before the World Championship began, at Goodwood, Aintree and Silverstone, were held in cold and windy weather, but Snetterton was always the worst.
In view of the conditions, Graham Hill decided to try out this new visor, a rotating piece of perspex on the front of his helmet which theoretically would dispel the rain by centrifugal force. It didn't work. I'd love to have heard what he had to say - dear Graham had a way with words.
This is what happens if a new-fangled visor is a waste of time and money.........
Ivor Bueb was hardly a household name when he sprang to prominence in the summer of 1955. He was a useful driver at National level, and had been reasonably successful in 500cc F3 and small capacity sports cars when he "got the call". It was time for the annual 24-heures du Mans and Jaguar faced their annual problem - Mercedes-Benz, Ferrari and Maserati, even Gordini, could call on their roll of GP drivers to fill the seats of their sports cars. Jaguar didn't compete in single-seater racing, and indeed their main interest was Le Mans, a "proper" race as far as they were concerned, for it could show the worth of their production-based cars. The D-type had been designed for one race, and one race only, and could be a real handful on other bumpy and twisty circuits. Mike Hawthorn once said it was like driving an armchair round the Sarthe.
Jaguar had Mike Hawthorn under contract for sports car racing, and they also had the old and wise pairing of Hamilton and Rolt, but they were getting past their prime. All top-line drivers having been taken, Jaguar called up Norman Dewis, their factory test driver who had limited experience at this level, and then offered drives to Don Beauman, a very promising young racer who tragically was killed later in the season, and could never fulfil his talent, and to Ivor the Driver. Bear in mind that he had never driven a Jaguar before, had never driven at Le Mans, had never driven a long-distance race , and probably never raced at night.
His lap times were perfectly reasonable for a rookie, and he was paired with Hawthorn who was capable of making up any time lost by Bueb. Mercedes went for the jugular, and paired Fangio with Moss (the mind boggles.....) and the opening of the race saw Hawthorn and Fangio race like a couple of nutcases - we're used to flat-out endurance racing these days, but back then the cars were far less reliable. Why they did it is anyone's guess. Of course we all know what happened next. When Hawthorn pulled in to refuel, Ivor Bueb must have been on the pit counter. It would have been standard procedure. He must have witnessed the whole thing - goodness knows what went through his mind. His great chance to prove himself was just thrown down the pan, along with the lives of 80+ innocent people.
He took over the car when asked, drove steadily and safely, got passed but plugged on, and when the Mercedes team was withdrawn and the Italian cars fell by the wayside, his car was victorious. Mike Hawthorn had a personal nightmare and only the wise head of Lofty England prevented him from walking away. I rate Ivor for that race - he stood up and was counted. Top man. Celebrations at the end were muted out of respect,
Bueb's career never really took off. He continued to be a rated driver in the UK, and known on the Continent, but never reached the top. In 1959 he was racing in an F2 Cooper at the rugged and dangerous Charade circuit near Clemont-Ferrand, crashed at a corner, and was thrown out, severely injured. If you want to see what happened next, the aftermath is available on a video clip on a very well-known video-streaming site. The gendarmes and track officials decide his body (remember - injured and still alive) was in the way, and simply drag it to the side of the track. It's horrendously callous, but things were different in those days. It took so long to get him to hospital that he didn't stand a chance - he lived for a few days but his medical treatment was inadequate. That's the way it was so often, back then.
I suppose many members on AP have seen the photo of Stuart Lewis-Evans loading his 500cc Cooper F3 onto the roof rack of his Land Rover using metal ramps. It looks a bit "dicey" but it's nothing compared to this. Danish racer Boerge Nielsen transported his F3 car (it has unusual wheels for a Cooper) on the roof of his daily driver, securing the little racer with rather slim ropes. I wouldn't attempt an emergency stop!
The 1938 Coppa Ciano and Rudi Carraciola takes a bend in his Mercedes-Benz W154 with circa 470bhp under his right foot. Look at the black tyre marks on the road. Look at the unforgiving stone walls and kerbstones which would wreck a wire wheel. Just imagine presenting that circuit to the Formula One authorities and asking if you can please hold a Grand Prix.
I make no excuses for presenting a photo of one of the greatest motor sport journalists of them all. From time to time I read some of his work in old copies of Motor Sport, and I'm always enthralled by its quality. He had a way of knowing exactly what was important, and why, and presenting it to the reader in a manner which held the attention. Not just his extraordinary account of the 1955 Mille Miglia, but just about every race report he completed - he refused to have his copy reduced, and as a consequence the account would often end up in minute print somewhere else in that edition. He knew that what he had written was exactly what was needed in print, no more, no less. Even his Continental Notes about random occurences during his travels are like little works of art.
Denis Jenkinson RIP. (He wasn't a big man, and that's the crankshaft from the 4.5-litre Duesenberg, whuch presumably he took from the Emeryson F1 car he had under a tarpaulin in his garden. Yes, a pukka GP car lying in his garden. Extraordinary man.)
I can't let this sad event pass without posting some sort of acknowledgement - I refer of course to the passing of John Surtees. Great man, great rider and driver. Someone who said what he felt, and didn't have much time for PR BS, which is quite possibly why he didn't receive a deserved knighthood - his views weren't always in accord with other team owners. He did, however, have time for genuine fans.
So many old film clips are available on y**tube but I can't find the one I want. It is taken from a helicopter filming the 1966 Belgian Grand Prix, and follows Big John in his Ferrari at high speed, but as you will recall the race is taking part during a torrential rainstorm, and although the car is going in approximately a straight line, John's hands are all over the place on the steering-wheel. It's supreme car control, as befits a former motorbike ace who understood changes in track surface. He dominated that race, although today it's always remembered for the Jackie Stewart incident.
RIP Il Grande John.
Another image of that race in Belgium - what happened to Jo Bonnier in his unwieldy Cooper-Maserati.
Indeed. A great racer and an all-round good bloke I think, though I did often wonder if he had actually changed his name to "John Surtees - the only man to win World Chamionships on both 2 wheels and 4", as that is always how he was referred to by the media, who always assume no-one ever knows anything!
Quote from: Carnut on March 12, 2017, 09:01:24 AM
Indeed. A great racer and an all-round good bloke I think, though I did often wonder if he had actually changed his name to "John Surtees - the only man to win World Chamionships on both 2 wheels and 4", as that is always how he was referred to by the media, who always assume no-one ever knows anything!
I feel your pain, but until Bernie changed things, motor racing was a bit of a minority sport. Although I reckon John Surtees was to some extent a household name, I think the public would need to be reminded about his achievements. It's the equivalent of Sir Stirling "the greatest driver never to win the world championship" Moss.
With so many of F1's drivers coming through from karts, I don't doubt that there'll never be another biker who does this double. I know Rossi fancied a go, but it came to nothing. They are 2 sports that now have little in common.
I have realised with a sinking feeling that there aren't many left now from that generation. My heroes are all shuffling off the mortal coil. I don't think Tony Brooks has attended a classic meeting recently - I hope he's OK.
The resurgence of British motor sport after 1945 had much to do with the availability of almost ready-made circuits created from the runways and perimeter roads of former military airfields. Some were used only a few times, others exist today in some form or other.
As a teenager I used to cycle to Snetterton for almost every meeting. The early season races provided a variety of meteorological conditions - it was not unknown for hail or snow to fall. Mid-summer could be baking hot. The US 8th Army Air Force needed a lot of flat and open ground for their B17s and B24s, so the field had been constructed in a very rural and isolated spot (you could argue everywhere in Norfolk is isolated) so if the wind blew, there was nowhere to hide. I sometimes cycled home soaking wet and shivering (but happy).
However, I reckon Snetterton's problems pale into insignificance next to Coastal Command's establishment at Davidstow in Cornwall. It was built atop Bodmin Moor. Think boggy moorland as far as the eye can see. No trees. Nothing. They held bona fide F1 events there, even if no F1 cars were entered. John Coombs' Lotus sports car won one of these, and it can be argued that it was the first F1 win for the Lotus marque.
This is a present-day photo of Davidstow. Virtually every meeting held there in the 1950s was subject to rain, rain and then some rain. Misery for everyone.
Quote from: nicanary on March 19, 2017, 07:01:49 AM
rain, rain and then some rain. Misery for everyone.
Just about sums up Cornwall in my (limited) experience..
'Bleak' sums up your picture very nicely!
The 1961 British Grand Prix was held at Aintree and it rained heavily for much of the race. No rear-mounted red warning lights in those days - you drove behind another car at racing speeds and hoped for the best. As usual, Stirling Moss did his best in an outdated car, taking on the dominant shark-nosed Ferraris with his superior driving skills. This is part of the report by Denis Jenkinson -"......von Trips appeared from behind the trees at Melling Crossing as usual, followed by the Lotus of Moss, but just as it came into view the tail of the blue car slid out to the left on the sheet of water. In an instant Moss had correction on the steering and slid sideways down the road at around 100mph with full left-lock on. For a moment it looked as though he would spin, but then the tail of the car flicked straight and across the road in the other direction. Still complete master of the situation Moss had full right-lock on in an instant , and continued to slide down the road sideways, only this time with his tail hung towards the inside of the track, but then, equally quickly, the tail flicked back again and this time went right round beyond full left lock , and in a wonderful exhibition of proprioception Moss unwound the steering, let the car complete a clockwise 360-degree spin, caught it at the end of the spin, by which time the speed had been dissipated down to about 40mph, selected a lower gear and took Tatts Corner as if nothing had happened,,,,,,,".
DSJ could write, and then some. Lewis Hamilton - eat your heart out.
(PS I've just had a quick look in some reference books to see why Moss' car was #28 instead of his usual #7. All entries in the Grand Prix were even numbers. There's no explanation in my Black Book nor in my Hamilton history of the British GP.)
I was just browsing Google Images looking for something else, and found these interesting photos of the 1954 Macau Grand Prix. In the early days of this event, what we would consider competitive machinery was in short supply. Most entrants were Western businessmen who had imported modern sports cars, or local dealers of the same. Later in the history of the race it would get a lot more up-to-date with single-seaters from Australasia, and eventually the Macau F3 race would be one of the most prestigious meetings.
The first two images are extremely odd - a Standard 8 Tourer with special (local?) bodywork and a Morris 8 Series E, with racing numbers. Plus a line of very ordinary-looking family saloon cars, with possibly the Standard and Morris in the middle of the line (I had to enlarge the image which gave poor definition). A check of the race's history reveals that the meeting also contained a novices' race and a ladies' race (sexism ruled back then) - quite possibly these cars are entered in one or the other.
However, to add to my astonishment, there is a photo of the start of the main race, which shows British production sports cars and a good number of very standard-looking saloon and touring cars. This was not a handicap race AFAIK so those entrants were just a bit optimistic.
Archie Scott Brown was a hugely popular driver in the UK during the 1950s, both for his rapid and daring driving, and his ability to face up to daunting physical disabilities. He had German measles as an infant, and this resulted in stunted arms and legs. Indeed his right arm had virtually no hand, just some vestigial stumps which nontheless enabled him to grasp a steering wheel. The fact that he became a regular race winner instead of just another competitor is remarkable, but sadly Continental race organisers were not ready to accept his abilities, and invariably declined his entry application.
He had great success in Connaught F1 cars in British national racing, even against the likes of Moss and Salvadori, and he was almost unbeatable in Lister sports-racing cars. He was accepted for the major sports car race at Spa in 1958, however, and tragically his chance to show overseas organisers what he was capable of came to a sudden end when his huge dice with another famously rapid racer (Masten Gregory - the Kansas City Flash) ended in his Lister hitting a marker post which broke a steering rod, and the accident was fatal.
It's been difficult to find images of Archie's physical deformities - most photos show him at an angle which precludes this. Here's one of him in the cockpit of a Connaught, and another showing his stature alongside Frank Nichols and Archie Butterworth.
Most of you will have seen this image many times before, but it bears repeating just so that we can all keep a sense of perspective. John Cobb laps Brooklands at over 143mph in a beast of a car, the Napier-Railton with a 24-litre aero-engine and not much in the way of brakes.
What an immensely brave man he was, so shy and modest out of the cockpit, but so utterly prepared to take risks which would be barely acceptable today. By all accounts he didn't like public adulation, and would stand at ceremonies in his honour with his head bowed, shuffling his feet and trying to melt into the crowd. A bit difficult - he was a huge man.
Have a look - no crash helmet, only one wheel in contact with the track. Brooklands was bumpy at best, and downright dangerous in some parts.
This is Jean-Albert Gregoire in one of his Tracta cars at the 1927 Le Mans 24-hour race. He finished 7th overall and qualified for the 1927/28 Coupe Biennale. He appears to be wearing a bandanna under his rudimentary helmet, but in fact it's a bandage - and thereby hangs a tale.
Gregoire and his fellow Tracta director Pierre Fenaille had entered 2 cars in the race, but on the way to the track on Saturday morning all 4 drivers were injured to varying degrees following a very serious road accident. Two of the drivers had injuries which would preclude them from taking part in the race, Fenaille was in a coma for 2 weeks, and Gregoire had a lacerated and badly bruised head, hence the bandage. He got a bit bored in hospital, escaped through a window and got a taxi to the circuit, met up with his mechanics, arranged to prepare one car, and then got Charles Faroux to use the Tannoy to ask for a substitute driver. A mechanic named Luciem Lemesle answered the call, got a brief chat with Gregoire about the handling characteristics of the Tracta, and the two drivers (mainly Gregoire) hauled the little car to the finish. At one point Gregoire was so far ahead of his target that he stopped out on the back of the circuit and lay down for a rest, much to the consternation of everyone else, who thought he had had a relapse in health.
Lemesle - "Mathilde? Is that you? I may be a bit late coming home tonight, just having a little drive with a new friend. It's a weird car, it's got front-wheel drive. Very odd. It'll never catch on, but you've got to humour the guy. Kiss Hortense goodnight from me"
I just came across this photo which I have never seen before. It is watermarked as part of the Klementaski Collection, but I doubt the great man took this photo as the incident took place out in the back of beyond at this majestic circuit. Possibly he purchased the rights from a member of the public.
Aston Martin had not intended to contest the 1959 Nurburgring 1000kms but team driver Stirling Moss persuaded them to let him take a car - they were in with a real chance of winning the constructors championship and Moss was keen to try. The car was sent with a couple of mechanics and Moss was told to find a co-driver. He selected Jack Fairman, rather a journeyman driver but someone Moss considered a safe pair of hands. "Jolly" Jack was delighted. Unfortunately when it was his turn to drive he managed to leave the track and all seemed lost. Jack panicked a bit- Moss was almost a god in the UK and he didn't want to let him and the team down. No outside assistance was allowed so Jack used all his adrenaline to literally lift the car back onto the track. He returned to the pits with the car covered in mud, Moss jumped in and drove one of his special races , overtook the rival Ferrari team, and won. Aston Martin won the championship.