Sixteen

Ford calls

The media coverage of our RAC Rally win was immense by any standards, and certainly in comparison with the current national exposure of world rallying. Ford placed full page advertisements in all the national and major regional newspapers in Britain, and all of them featured our success, mostly on the front pages. It was the second or third item on BBC and ITV main evening news. We were included in BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year, and a longish film of the rally was shown on the sports programmes on both channels. I loved the TV bit with all the interviews, of course, but Roger hated it. Looking back, I never imagined that one day television would play an important part in my career.

So, if you thought 1972 was a fairly dramatic year for me, I can tell you that 1973 was just as momentous for a variety of reasons. Obviously, the big win was still being celebrated by Ford, and every dealer in Britain was displaying huge “We’ve won the RAC Rally!” posters in its showroom windows. Ford also produced small stickers saying the same thing, to be attached to the inside of cars’ rear windows. It appeared that almost every Escort on the roads of Britain was sporting one of these! The winning Escort, Roger and I appeared at Ford dealers the length and breadth of Britain for special evenings, sometimes joined by other race and rally personalities as one of Stuart Turner’s famous forums would take place. Every car club in the country wanted us to give them an evening for their members, and, if we could fit them in, Roger and I would tootle off to show a film of the rally and tell the audience all about our trip. We became quite polished as a double act, and gave everyone a good laugh before the obligatory autograph session. Some of those signed photographs are occasionally offered for sale on eBay, I understand – I wish I was getting something out of it! I always remember going to a sellout club evening in Shropshire, where there were healthy queues outside the front door of the hall in which we were to appear. All the club officials who would greet us were inside the hall, of course, so we made our way in among the paying customers. Sitting behind a table was an ancient gentleman who, I presume, had something to do with the club, but didn’t really seem to know what was going on as he insisted that Roger and I show him our tickets before we were allowed in! He was adamant we should have tickets, and hadn’t got a clue who we were. We very nearly had to pay to go into our own show!

I was still living and working in the north of England, but spending more and more time with Ford, and I was a regular visitor to Boreham where I became good friends with the competition manager, Peter Ashcroft. I was involved in various test sessions on Boreham Airfield, and on the fast gravel tracks there, sitting in with Timo Mäkinen and Hannu Mikkola, among others. Peter asked me if I saw my future as a works co-driver, and was prepared to bring me into the team. There was one possibility that excited me somewhat: being regular co-driver to Hannu Mikkola. I also saw quite a lot of Jim Porter, who was often at Boreham. We got on well, but I always had something of a feeling of guilt about him, as Jim had loyally worked alongside Roger Clark since 1961, but relinquished his co-driver’s seat when he took over the organisation of the RAC Rally in 1972 – the year I sat in with Roger and got a lot of the limelight. Jim is a modest, quiet man, but to see another co-driver in his seat really must have been a bitter pill to swallow. However, Jim never, ever showed any sign of animosity or jealousy to me, and we remain good friends to this day. Jim co-drove with Roger for 21 years in total, winning 49 rallies and four British championships. He organised 14 RAC rallies, and improved the event enormously during his time at the helm.

I was enjoying my new-found fame, as you might imagine, and was much in demand as an after-dinner speaker, opener of fêtes, and presenter of awards here, there, and everywhere. I was interviewed on local TV sports programmes, and went to a great function in the town hall in Morecambe, where I was fed egg sandwiches and received the Freedom of Morecambe. I went to the finals of the Daily Mail ‘Woman driver of the year’ competition, and drove Cilla Black round a manoeuvrability test on Blackpool’s promenade in a 3-litre Ford Capri that had appeared from somewhere. I remember Cilla screaming and squealing as I showed off with my handbrake turns. She did say she thought I “was so clever.” Aren’t I a bighead? Sorry! I suppose it would be non-PC or sex discrimination or something to have a ‘Woman driver of the year’ competition nowadays.

Another function I attended at Morecambe’s outdoor super swimming pool might fall into the same category. It was a heat of the Miss Great Britain contest, where I was to appear as a judge, along with various other local worthies, sponsors, and the singer Matt Monro, who was appearing at the nearby Winter Gardens theatre at the time. I still have the red, white and blue rosette that was attached to me. More used to motorsport functions than beauty contests, I expected to be invited to ‘scrutineering’ the night before at the nearby Pontins Holiday Camp, where all the lovely contestants were staying. My offer was refused! Pontins was situated just outside Morecambe at Heysham Head, overlooking Morecambe Bay. This was also the location of a kart track built by the Hesketh family on the top of a steep cliff, where major kart races were held, including the finals of the world championship. An up-and-coming young kart driver by the name of Nigel Mansell once gave himself some nasty injuries when he crashed heavily, narrowly avoiding dropping over the cliff. He ended up in the Royal Lancaster Infirmary and very nearly died from his injuries. I have since met and talked to Nigel quite a lot, and discussed the Heysham Head kart track. He says it was the most dangerous race track he has ever raced on anywhere in the world. I wish I’d known that when I appeared there in 1973 in a full works Escort, on my way back from a national rally in Scotland. I was invited to entertain the crowds at the kart race by doing a few flamboyant laps. I believe I made the fastest time round the track ever recorded by a car. I know I frightened myself silly.

Among the prizes for winning the RAC Rally were return air tickets to Kenya for the Safari Rally, in which Ford was competing with a strong team. Bill Barnett, who was running the team, included me in all the Ford arrangements and allocated me a room at the famous Norfolk Hotel in Nairobi, which was the team hotel. It would be my first visit to a country outside Europe, and I was quite excited as I arranged all my injections for this great expedition to the tropics. Among the Ford crews were Roger Clark and Jim Porter, who I would accompany before the event whilst they were making route notes. I also had another job to do for Roger, which was quite unusual, to say the least. Roger had been in Africa for a couple of weeks’ recceing with Jim when his second child was about to be born in his home city of Leicester. It was agreed that I should keep in touch with Roger’s family, and if the baby was born before I left for Nairobi, I should take a Polaroid photograph of him or her and take it with me to give to Roger. Nowadays, with all the mobile phone cameras around, this is no big deal, but at the time it took a lot of organising. Roger’s wife, Judith, gave birth to a little boy, a brother for two-year-old Matthew, the night before I was due to leave. I duly appeared at the maternity home, en route to Gatwick, and took a shot of baby Oliver. After an overnight flight, I arrived at the Norfolk Hotel and proudly presented my photograph of Roger’s new son and heir. “Isn’t he pink!” Roger exclaimed. We had a few jokes about it probably being my thumb over the lens, and then, along with Roger’s close friend and Nairobi resident Bill Parkinson, began ‘wetting the baby’s head’ and enjoy a few Tusker beers.

I thought Kenya was marvellous, of course, and was quickly introduced to all the great names associated with the Safari Rally. The Ford team had an arrangement with Kenya’s greatest rallying family, the Prestons, who operated a major Shell garage in Nairobi. It was allegedly the biggest petrol station in the whole of Africa. Vic Preston won the first two ‘proper’ East African Safari rallies in the fifties, and was Kenya’s ‘Mr Motorsport,’ having been East African motorcycle champion several times. Although acknowledged as East Africa’s top driver (he also twice finished in second and third place on Safari rallies in the sixties), he was renowned for his careful planning and meticulous attention to detail. Having driven Zephyrs and Cortinas on the Safari throughout the fifties and sixties, Vic had long associations with Ford, and the Preston garage became the unofficial competition department for Ford at Safari time. Not only that, but Vic’s only son, Vic Preston Junior, had followed in his father’s footsteps, winning local motorsport events on two and four wheels, and, in fact, had finished third overall in a works Escort on the 1972 Safari Rally, which Ford had won with Hannu Mikkola – the first ever win in the world’s toughest rally by an overseas driver. I got on with the entire Preston family really well, and all of us, including Vic’s delightful wife June, had the same sense of humour. As time went on I would spend a lot of time with this rally mad family and would co-drive Junior Preston several times. Back to this first trip of mine, I thought this was ‘heaven on earth.’ I was working with Peter Ashcroft, along with the Prestons and Vic’s partner in one of his businesses, Bill Parkinson. Formerly from Northern Ireland, Bill is one of the funniest men I have ever met. He had his own light plane, and this was used as part of the Ford service arrangements. He took Peter Ashcroft and me up in the plane several times, and we both flew it – completely illegally, of course. As one of Bill’s many practical jokes, he introduced me to a friend at the Wilson Airfield Aero Club in Nairobi, and suggested I had a short flight with him. I did not know that this man was the East African aerobatics champion, or some such, and of course we looped the loop, fell backwards out of the sky with no engine running, and did the most frightening things. I am pleased to report that, surprisingly, I was not sick, which seemed to give me some sort of acceptance with Bill and his pals.

The Safari Rally used to be held in three countries around Lake Victoria – Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda – but in 1973 Uganda was dropped from the event as President Amin had begun his mad activities. Among my first jobs with Ford was to be sent down to Dar es Salaam in Tanzania to meet the local Ford dealer, Riddoch Motors, and set up service arrangements. I spent a pleasant evening having an alfresco drink with the local manager, and vividly remember a large fruit-bat diving into my full pint of beer and spraying it all over me! I know that’s a bit trivial, but you don’t want all sorts of rally facts non-stop, do you? I also remember visiting Arusha in Tanzania with Roger and Jim Porter before the rally. Now, here’s another interesting fact: it is one of the only places in the world where a special rock called ‘meerschaum’ exists, which is used to make tobacco pipes. This white rock is amazing, being one of the few types in the world that float. We made a brief visit to the area where we met someone who was an expert on meerschaum. “Why is it called meerschaum?” I asked. Quick as a flash, Jim Porter interjected “It probably means bloody hell, it floats!” I was having a good time in East Africa with all my new-found friends, and really taking to the old colonial way of life. I was left by myself in Dar es Salaam until the rally arrived, early on the second day.

Huge crowds of locals had gathered by the main control at Dar’s biggest hotel, and as the first cars arrived the crowds were going mad. There was much whistleblowing, and suddenly a van full of policemen arrived, complete with tear-gas guns, which they proceeded to fire all over the crowd and into the foyer of the hotel where the official control was sited! Everyone had to be evacuated.

The first car to arrive, in fact, was that of my mates Roger and Jim, who had a marvellous four-minute lead at that point. After various telephone calls to the Ford team back in Nairobi I was told to go and pick up one of the recce cars, which had been left broken in Dar but had now been repaired. 1969 Safari Rally winner Robin Hillyar then appeared and introduced himself, saying we would be together to take the Escort recce car back to Nairobi. Robin was part of the Ford brigade as an unofficial ‘hanger-on,’ a bit like me. He had won the Safari driving a German Ford Taunus 20M. By the time we got away from Dar es Salaam it was getting dusk so a ten hour night drive was called for. There are two things I remember about our trip: the first was around midnight, when I stopped the car I was driving whilst Robin was asleep. I needed to stretch myself and take the opportunity to have a pee in the bushes at the roadside. When I returned to the car and put the headlights on, I had the shock of my life. A huge lion had been standing a few feet away, but obviously didn’t fancy any of my bits on his menu that night. The other incident took place when Robin was driving at about three o’clock in the morning, as we passed from Tanzania into Kenya. We stopped at the border control, and I went in with our two passports only to see the two guards completely flat-out on benches behind the counter. They had obviously been on the ‘banana juice,’ and had their eyes firmly closed. I couldn’t wake them, so I decided to stamp our own passports as the rubber stamp and pad were within reach on the counter top. I was quite pleased with myself, but didn’t really have time to tell Robin as I climbed into the passenger seat and we sped off. Suddenly there were floodlights, and, more worryingly, loads of loud gunshots in our direction as we sped off somewhat rapidly!

Back in Nairobi, I was asked to drive top Boreham engine man Terry Hoyle round, visiting various service points where his skills might be required. At the time I had been a regular autotest competitor, and as we approached the equator I couldn’t resist a handbrake turn to stop astride the yellow line that crossed the tarmac road. Terry thought I was mad, but I thought it was a pretty unique achievement, and I’m proud of it!

Back home, I was becoming more used to various telephone calls from Ford folk, but still stood to attention if Stuart Turner was on the other end of the line! I knew he had a good opinion of me and my great enthusiasm, and he admired the way I ran Morecambe Car Club with a meticulous eye to detail. He used to give me little projects from time to time, like writing a monthly column for Ford Sport magazine, which he had introduced. I used to write quiz questions for him, and prepare tabletop rallies that he used as an initiative test for budding navigators. I was also asked to write to the ‘opposition,’ Chrysler, Vauxhall, Datsun, and British Leyland, asking for their help in suggesting my entry into motorsport with their make of car. I then sent the replies onto Stuart for him to analyse. I had to ring Ford dealers around the country asking them about their views on motorsport. In short, I was becoming a bit of a general dogsbody for Stuart, and felt quite privileged to be.

Stuart interviewed me for a possible job in the Ford press office on one occasion, and also wanted me to run the Fordsport club, so I was certainly getting my feet under the Ford table. However, I was completely unprepared for one telephone call. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had a phone call from Mr Turner, but he doesn’t go in for pleasantries like ‘Hello, how are you?’ ‘Isn’t the weather terrible?’ or ‘This is Stuart Turner here.’ The phone call in early 1973 that really flabbergasted me went as follows: “This may be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done, and I may regret it, but I’m offering you the job of rally manager at Boreham. You can buy yourself a Guinness tonight and put it on your expenses, but only one! You’ll get a letter tomorrow with all the details.” Bang! The phone went dead at the other end, and I sat down, numb. When the letter arrived I noticed that the projected salary was four times what I was earning at K Shoes. I didn’t need a lot of persuading, and accepted the job, which was retitled ‘competitions co-ordinator,’ as it would involve work with various racing projects. I would also look after the rallycross programmes for John Taylor and Rod Chapman, and organise all Ford forums, as well as the new Mexico Rally championship and all other motor club activities. Looking back, it was an amazing happening. Aged just 31, I would be replacing Bill Barnett, who was moving to a senior corporate post in Ford’s Warley headquarters, and rally drivers like Timo Mäkinen, Hannu Mikkola, and Roger Clark would be taking orders from me. It was quite bizarre, in a way. Peter Ashcroft had been promoted to competitions manager, with Stuart as director of motorsport, operating from the Ford Advanced Vehicles Operation at South Ockenden. I was looking forward to working with Peter, who was an engineer at heart, so I knew he would be happy to let me get on with all the peripheral duties. It was certainly another daunting prospect for the Mason agenda, but I knew I could do the job, otherwise Stuart Turner would not have asked me. I then started to think of all the people he could have asked, and thought that they might all envy me. It was, of course, fairly big news in the motorsport press, as not one journalist had got a whiff of it before the official Ford press release landed on their desks.