Nineteen

All change!

Whatever gloomy news there was about the British economy, together with announcements of possible cutbacks in motorsport programmes and staff at Ford, the beginning of 1975 was the most unimaginably marvellous time for me because, at 9.07am on the 28th January, I saw the birth of my darling baby daughter, Emma. Without going into too many details of Sue’s labour, the baby was somewhat loath to make her entrance into the world, so was late arriving, obviously not having inherited her father’s penchant for accurate time-keeping! Nothing will ever obliterate from my mind the beautiful memory of Emma’s arrival, and the look of joy (and relief) on Sue’s face. I think Sue thought I had hoped for a son to be born, but in fact I wanted a daughter, someone to be ‘daddy’s girl.’ I was absolutely delirious, and when I left the Chelmsford St John’s hospital to get into my car, got quite emotional when I heard the record being played on a BBC light programme on the car radio: it was Don McLean’s hit Wonderful Baby. I always thought that if ever I was invited to appear on Desert Island Discs, this would be the first record I would choose. I returned to my office at Boreham that morning and told everyone my happy news, and invited all in the competition department to join me in the nearby Cock Inn for a celebratory drink at lunchtime. Peter Ashcroft was with Stuart Turner, elsewhere in Essex, but I did receive congratulatory telephone calls from both. The baby’s arrival merited a mention in the weekly Fordsport news, produced by Harry Calton. He pointed out that all Ford’s current co-drivers – Jim Porter, Henry Liddon, John Davenport, and now me, had produced girls. Maybe it’s something in the genes but I know that all the Ford rally drivers of the time – Mikkola, Mäkinen, and Clark – only produced boys.

Back at my desk there was work to be done, but regrettably, much of it centred around cutbacks on rally programmes and staff. Peter Ashcroft had to make redundancies, and there was a definite feeling that motorsport’s days were numbered. This had all started the year before, in fact, and we were lucky to be doing as much as we were, much of the motorsport being subsidised by the oil and tyre companies. Esso sponsored a series of Fordsport rally shows that I presented, and I was honoured to receive a letter from the then Ford chairman, Sam Toy, congratulating me on my efforts and saying what good feedback he had received from Ford dealers. We still planned to enter the Circuit of Ireland Rally with Roger Clark in a ‘development’ Escort, and Irish driver Billy Coleman in 000 96M. Billy, in fact, was and is something of a favourite of mine, and I first met him a couple of years before when I turned up at my office at Boreham and found this young, bedraggled person sitting in the small reception area. “Hello,” I said, “Can I help you?” I wasn’t sure who he was or what he wanted. “I’m Billy Coleman from County Cork” he said in his amazingly quiet and gentle brogue. “I was wondering if you have any works cars I could drive.” I pushed him into the gents to dry off after his half mile walk from the place a taxi dropped him off and told him to join me in my office. I explained that works drives in Britain’s top rally team were not doled out to anyone who turned up on the doorstep. I was, however, fascinated by this intelligent, quiet, young man who had some special charisma. He told me of his history and background (including the fact that his father, or grandfather, had designed and invented the power take-off system for Fordson tractors and still held the patent), and he told me what he had won as a rally driver. He also mentioned he had close contacts with Ford Ireland as Henry Ford (Cork) Ltd was just down the road from Millstreet where he farmed. When Peter Ashcroft arrived I made the introductions and asked Peter if he agreed to let Billy take me round the test track in one of the cars in the workshop. I sat in with Billy and was impressed. I’m rewinding and darting about here, but the Billy Coleman thing developed well and he won the 1974 British Rally championship, and the following year was leading it again. For the 1975 Circuit of Ireland we gave Billy a works car, but there was only money for the entries and hotels. Billy had always rallied with fellow countryman Dan O’Sullivan, but I think Dan was otherwise engaged or something, so Billy asked me to co-drive. Peter Ashcroft preferred me to accompany him in the management car, so I refused to go with Billy. We selected another Irish co-driver, Paul Phelan, who did a good job, and Billy won his first big rally – unfortunately without me in the passenger seat.

I know I keep darting off at tangents and burbling about things that most people would probably have forgotten, but I have a tendency to pick up on the bizarre and amusing things. Here’s another one: when Ford entered the Scottish rally one year we were encamped in the Hilton Hotel in Glasgow, where the then top world superstar group The Osmonds were also staying. I probably don’t need to explain that the hotel was heaving with security guards and there were huge, screaming crowds outside. The Osmond brigade were housed on the entire top floor of the hotel, and it had been sealed off. One of the lifts had been assigned to the Osmonds, and no-one else could use it as it had been programmed to avoid all floors except theirs. Billy Coleman was in our team, and, having telephoned him, arranged to meet in reception, near the lifts. The Osmond lift descended and arrived at the reception floor, and with all the other other ‘rubber-neckers,’ I watched as the great American Osmond family emerged. There, in the middle of them, was Billy Coleman! I’m not sure if he knew who they were or how on earth he got into the lift, but there he was. A magic moment for me, if not for Billy, or the Osmonds. There was another interesting happening for me at this hotel, as Peter Ashcroft and I had dinner with the fabulous fast rally driver, Michèle Mouton, who told us about her plans to run the Race of Champions in the future. She outlined her plans to invite every World Rally Champion to race against each other on a knockout basis. This would develop into a hugely successful annual event, and I was to have a close involvement with it in the future.

The Welsh Rally was next on the agenda in May, with works cars for Roger Clark and Jim Porter, Billy Coleman and John Davenport, Russell Brookes and John Brown, and Nigel Rockey and Ron Channon. The Welsh Rally was based on Barry in South Wales that particular year, and I was in charge as Peter Ashcroft was elsewhere. The day before it started I remember checking into the International Hotel near Cardiff airport in Barry, and going up to my floor. I followed a young blond Finn called Ari Vatanen who was driving a privately entered Opel, but had already established himself as something of a young hotshot and possibly Finland’s next star. I said “Hello,” as he went into the room next to mine. Stuart Turner, Peter Ashcroft, and I had discussed Ari, and they had told me to keep an eye on him to see if he could be considered for a Ford drive at some point. You’ll remember that Stuart Turner ‘invented’ Finnish rally drivers, discovering Rauno Aaltonen, Timo Mäkinen, Simo Lampinen et al. He changed the face of rallying, finding this lot! Back at the hotel in Barry, I was unpacking my bags when there was a knock on the door. It was my very good friend and rival Tony Fall, who was Opel’s team manager. “I thought this was Ari Vatanen’s room,” he said. I told him it was next door. The cat was out of the bag! I instantly thought that the little meeting next door might mess up Ford’s plans to get an involvement with young Ari, so I phoned my masters in Essex and alerted them to the happenings in beautiful Barry. A cunning plan evolved, and I was told to ring Timo Mäkinen at home in Helsinki, tell him the telephone number of the hotel we were in, together with Ari’s room number, and ask him to speak to Ari immediately (in Finnish, of course, so Tony Fall couldn’t understand), and tell him not to sign anything for Opel until he had spoken to me, as there could be an opportunity with Ford. The plan worked, and the rest is history. Ari won the British and World Rally Championships as a Ford driver, with David Richards as his co-driver.

Now, talking of David Richards, I have a long history of involvement there. In the very early seventies, when I had been appointed competitions co-ordinator at Ford, we were involved in what was then known as the Kléber/Wheelbase Rally championship – sponsored by the French tyre manufacturer and BBC TV programme of those names. One of the finalists was co-driver David Richards from North Wales, who partnered David ‘Piggy’ Thompson from Yorkshire. (David was a pig farmer in case you were wondering. His son James is now a championship-winning saloon car racing driver, by the way. With all this digressing, is there any wonder this is a long book?) After the presentation of trophies and other niceties I met David Richards (then known as Dave, incidentally, which is possibly not quite so sophisticated a name now that he is in the very top echelons of the motorsport industry). We had a couple of drinks, and I kid you not, he asked me for advice so he could emulate me and make a successful career in motorsport. I promptly advised him to do something or other and continue co-driving as much as possible. As I now read about the huge Prodrive empire he has created and see his name in various national rich lists, I feel happy that he took my advice! I now know David and Karen Richards well, and David kindly loaned me his helicopter for our daughter Clare’s wedding in 1989, which was an amazing gesture. I do have enormous admiration for his abilities. Maybe I should go to him for advice on my diminishing career.

With all these cutbacks going on at Boreham I was getting slightly depressed, but following company guidelines, Ford loaned cars to all sorts of celebrities, particularly motorsport stars, and all of these were under my jurisdiction. I didn’t decide who got them, but it was my job to be in contact on all matters. The cars were swapped regularly, so I had a lot of contact with the recipients of these loan vehicles. When the cutbacks appeared Ford had to reduce the number of loan cars, and I was given a list of names to contact and ask to give back the cars. No-one was too happy, of course, but accepted Ford’s requirements. When I telephoned Graham Hill, I had the biggest surprise of my life. He exclaimed “What, the Ford Motor Company wants my cars back?” (He had two or three, by the way.) “You can’t tell me that Ford are so poor they need my help.” With that, the phone went click and the twice world champion Formula 1 driver had gone! Like everybody, I liked Graham Hill as he was a very humorous man, as well as being a brilliant record-breaking driver (who else won the F1 world championship, Le Mans, and Indianapolis?), but he had a sharp, cutting sense of humour. In early 1973, before I joined Ford, there was an amazing motorsport evening held at the Winter Gardens theatre in Blackpool. It was a sell-out as the guests were Graham Hill, Jackie Stewart, Roger Clark, and Stuart Turner, and, after my RAC win, I was brought in. The Winter Gardens theatre in Blackpool was, and still is, one of the greatest theatres in Britain, and every top show business star has appeared there. When I was treading the boards in wet Morecambe a few years before, I would have given anything to be on stage in this marvellous theatre. Here I was! After the show, I joined Graham and Jackie in a car that took us to our hotel. Graham did not want to stay, but hoped he could fly home in his private plane, which was parked at Blackpool airport. It was a damp, foggy night, and I remember Jackie saying “You’ll never get off in this weather.” Graham replied, “I’m bloody sure I can. If they can get a man to the moon, I reckon I can get out of Blackpool.” He offered both Jackie and I a lift back, but we both declined. Just two years later, Graham Hill was killed when his light plane, which he was flying, crashed on landing in foggy conditions at Elstree, near his north London home.

I was meeting people on the world stage, and recalled arriving at my office early one misty morning to find Argentinean F1 driver Carlos Reutemann standing out of the rain in the front door area at Boreham. He introduced himself, and said he had been promised a loan car. It was hours before I got rid of him! I had phone calls from around the world, sometimes at home at very odd hours. I had received a telex message from Ugandan despot and madman President Idi Amin. He was annoyed at the organisers of the East African Safari Rally as they had now rerouted to avoid Uganda. He therefore planned to run his own major rally organised by the Uganda Motor Club. He wanted me to send two Ford cars. Amin was at the height of his mad, murderous activities, so I declined his kind invitation, as did all other western teams. I understand the rally did take place with seven or eight entries. President Amin himself drove a Citroën off the start ramp as car number one, but rapidly abandoned it and returned to his palace for the night. Next morning he emerged and drove the Citroën over the finish ramp to claim first prize! Now, you hadn’t heard that one before, had you?

In midsummer, Sue, Jane, Clare, six-month-old Emma and I had a lovely holiday in the Isle of Wight, a place none of us had ever visited. When the children were asleep, Sue and I had walks in the evening and discussed the general situation of living in Essex, and the various problems that were appearing with my job. There was no real urgency, but we both felt we should consider a change for the future. I lay awake at night (which I still do, and have done all my life if anything worries me) and thought – “Could I give up one of the very best jobs in motorsport?” Would I miss all the amazing people I was meeting?

One evening, rally legend Paddy Hopkirk telephoned me and asked if I would be interested in designing a rally navigation ‘romer’ to be included in his successful range of car accessories. The new metric maps were being introduced by Ordnance Survey, and this scale would have to be included on this map reference plotting device. I met up with Paddy during a trip to London, and he discussed the design of the product, but also mentioned that his company, Mill Accessory Group, which he ran with fellow former rally drivers Peter Riley and Bobby Longmuir, was planning to expand its export side. He invited me to visit their office and factory near Dunstable for lunch. I thought the reason for my visit was to be introduced to staff as a fellow rally winner, but in fact Paddy, Peter, and Bobby asked me if I would be interested in joining them as export director. After the discussions Sue and I had been having, this was food for thought indeed. I returned home and we discussed the whole project, eventually deciding I should accept the new job.

Sue and I started to look at houses, preferably as far north of Dunstable as possible, as we still had so many connections in north-west England and felt we were maybe getting halfway home. We eventually settled on a nice old cottage on the Oxfordshire/Northamptonshire border. It would need some renovation, but Sue could see the potential and was attracted to the house because it had an adjoining two-acre field, which meant the girls could have ponies, eventually. The house was situated at the bottom of a narrow lane, along which a herd of cows passed twice daily to visit their farm for milking. When it turned up, the large removal van containing our goods and chattels blocked much of the lane, of course. Towards the end of the day we heard a kerfuffle in the lane, and discovered that the leading cows in the milking procession had walked up the ramp and into the removal van. The Masons had arrived!

We began the mammoth task of clearing up the grounds of our new abode, and making the house itself habitable. Sue has great vision, and soon started planning what would, after a great amount of work, become a superb garden. I helped with the heavy non-technical bits, and also started construction of a wall, to be built in the local stone that I cadged from friendly farmers, who did not then realise the value of old barns. I really enjoyed building this wall, and worked on it on summer evenings and at weekends. I eventually finished it, although it took longer than Hadrian took to complete his.

Before leaving Ford, during the summer I had agreed to compete on two more events with Roger Clark. One was an international caravan rally, would you believe, and the other the RAC again. It might surprise you to know that the Ford Motor Company competitions department would enter a caravan rally, but it did. In the glorious days before all those 4x4s and SUVs there were certain cars that led the field in towing caravans. Volvos and big Austins were popular, but Fords didn’t seem to get in on the act. One of the sales divisions at Ford found a budget to compete in the International Caravan Rally in 1975, but somewhat surprisingly didn’t specify a Cortina or Granada as the towing car, instead asking for a Capri to be used. They tied up with a major caravan manufacturer, found sponsorship from Dettol Cream, and Roger and I were booked. In preparation for the event, Roger and I met up and borrowed a trailer from a friend to practise reversing, then made our way to Silverstone where the event was based. We did all sorts of manoeuvrability tests, which Roger hated, and I calculated that some tests were taking so long that we would record less penalty by going flat-out and knocking all the cones flying. This was subsequently frowned upon in the caravan magazines as unsporting behaviour! After all this frivolity at Silverstone, there was a full night section around the lanes and forests of mid-Wales, before returning to Silverstone. Roger really disliked this event, especially when we overshot a junction in a tight lane in Monmouthshire and he had to reverse. All the car reverse lights did was illuminate the front of the caravan, so he could see nothing. We then thought the best policy was to try and get rid of the caravan by going as fast as possible over hump-back bridges and through forest stages, letting the caravan drag behind with one wheel hanging over the edge. Regrettably the contraption held on like glue, and we emerged from Wales in second place overall! We had been supplied by Boreham with two works mechanics who didn’t have a lot to do, but appeared to have eaten some of the provisions in the caravan, which had to be carried the entire route intact. We arrived back in Towcester, near Silverstone, with a chance of winning this great event, so the mechanics were given the job of repairing cupboard doors, some of which had splintered like matchwood, because of our antics. They also had to replenish the food stocks by visiting a local grocery store. We did finish second, incidentally, but in all my subsequent years of overtaking caravans, I never saw one being towed by a Ford Capri.

The 1975 RAC Rally was a different matter, however, and Ford was again entering in force, hoping for its fourth consecutive win. Newly prepared Mk2 Escorts were provided for Timo Mäkinen and Henry Liddon, and Roger and me, whilst Ari Vatanen joined the main team of three cars. Before I left Boreham, I had been involved in sorting out a good sponsorship deal with Cossack hairspray – a leading brand from the Reckitt Group. Hairspray for men was a completely new market, and we were working with a leading London advertising agency. They planned a heavy television advertising campaign, and these really helped Roger become a household name. I was in attendance when the TV commercial was filmed at Bagshot, and was actually sharing a hotel room with Roger when we had a rude awakening at 6.00am, when a fairly effeminate male hairdresser appeared to attend to Roger’s flowing locks. It wasn’t the sort of thing Roger liked, and he sat on the end of the bed with a very glum face while the hairdresser faffed about. The car Roger and I would drive would be in the bright red colours of Cossack, and we were both kitted out in red overalls and rally jackets. Before the start of the RAC Rally in York we had to appear in Boots chemists for half an hour, dressed in our overalls, signing photographs. I have often seen the funny side of all this, for soon after Roger’s hair became prematurely white, and mine dropped out! I had better be careful here as the Cossack brand name is still used, although I understand it is now manufactured by a totally different company, with no association with the Reckitt group.

The RAC Rally itself was not the easiest rally we had ever done, and we really struggled a few times during the 1800-mile, four-day route. For the fourth year running the event was based in York, and at the halfway mark we were lying fifth overall despite a few calamities. On one of the Sherwood Forest stages we suffered a broken rear shock absorber, and at Cirencester Park were extremely lucky to escape another incident unscathed. At 100mph on a long fast straight, a front spring mounting collapsed and the front strut broke, shearing a brake pipe. Through the intercom, I heard a sudden change in Roger’s breathing pattern and noticed his foot was pumping the brake pedal as if there was no tomorrow. In fact, there could well not have been a tomorrow for us, as we had lost our brakes completely at this great speed. “What’s next?” Roger asked, surprisingly calmly. “K left,” I shouted, thinking we would have a hell of a smash in the trees. In an instant Roger saw a gateway into a field and went for it. We shattered the flimsy gate and flew into the field, where Roger handbraked the car to a stop. He then drove out of the gate, and completed about half a mile of the stage using the handbrake to slow us down. It was a near thing, and no mistake.

There were further dramas afoot. As we moved down to Devon we heard and felt severe engine vibration. Just before the Cricket St Thomas stage our service crew had a good poke about, and advised us that something had come loose from the crankshaft, which was very bad news. However, we persevered and managed to struggle out of the stage, but it was like driving a bag of nails as the engine vibrated frantically. The clutch was slipping, but it was a bigger problem than that. After crawling along for a few miles, we spoke over the radios and told the team we were retiring. We spotted a really nice roadside pub with welcoming early evening lights shining, so pulled into the car park and went in expecting to be eventually rescued, or at worst, stay the night. We had two beautiful foaming pints of bitter placed on the bar in front of us, and were literally taking the first sip when the door of the pub flew open and Mick Jones rushed in, saying they knew what was wrong, and it was something to do with the crankshaft, but that we should get ourselves up to Aust Services at the Severn Bridge where the service crew would change the clutch and generally fettle the problem. Having actually retired, we were now back in the rally and I remember thinking of that lovely foaming pint I had left in Devon. After the service at Severn Bridge I was driving the car along the old twisty A40 road through Raglan and past the Clytha Arms, which looked as brightly lit and welcoming as the pub in Devon. By an amazing quirk of fate, the ‘Clytha’ is now the nearest local pub and restaurant to my daughter, Emma, and her husband, Kevin, who live nearby. So I often visit it and relive my memories (no doubt boring everyone to death!).

Roger and I trundled on through Wales amazingly well with a healthy sounding car, and despite a few minor problems and clobbering a pile of logs in Kielder forest, two days later we finished second again. Timo and Henry had achieved their hat-trick – at the time, only the second ever after Erik Carlsson’s. Sue and baby Emma came to the finish at York racecourse and stood alongside the finish ramp. My favourite rally photograph of all time is one of Timo, Roger, Henry, and I sitting on the roof of the car with Emma, in her mother’s arms, peeping round the corner!

Writing this book – which is one of the most difficult things I have ever done, by the way – reminds me of a little publishing incident in which I was involved at Boreham. Stuart Turner has always been a prolific and amusing writer, and has published a number of books including The Way to Win in 1974. Stuart asked me to contribute my thoughts on co-driving, and give him a few illustrations to show map marking, pace notes, and other rally paperwork. I sent him a copy of a movement schedule for the Welsh Rally, which I had produced for Ford. At the time, a young rally nerd (his words, not mine) by the name of Fred Gallagher had been poring over the schedule details with a fine tooth comb, and discovered that if Roger Clark had arrived at the start of the event at the time detailed on the illustration, he would have been 24 hours late! Fred, who eventually became one of the top co-drivers in the world, with three Safari and two Ivory Coast wins to his credit, wrote to Stuart Turner, pointing out the mistake. Stuart explained that the page was purely for illustration purposes. Fred told me all this many years later, to which I replied “Ah! You were the clever bastard! I was called into Stuart Turner’s office one morning for a bollocking and he was brandishing your letter, stating that some spotty university student had found the mistake, printed in his book!” Be sure your sins will find you out.

Around this time I did receive some astonishing news when I received a letter from the Royal Automobile Club stating that the prestigious Segrave Trophy was being awarded to Roger Clark in respect of the 1972 RAC Rally win. Roger’s name was coupled with mine, Jim Porter, Stuart Turner, and the Ford team. The trophy is presented to the British subject who gives the most outstanding demonstration of transport by land, air or water and in doing so shows skill, courage and initiative. Having been awarded since 1930, after Sir Henry Segrave lost his life attempting the world water speed record on Lake Windermere, the list of previous recipients was very impressive indeed. Illustrious names included Amy Johnson, Malcolm and Donald Campbell, Stirling Moss, Jackie Stewart, and numerous test pilots including Peter Twiss and Brian Trubshaw, of Concorde fame. A lunch is held annually at the RAC club in London, and it was a great honour to go along and mingle with great names, past and present. It is, indeed, a unique ‘club.’