How did you find Brisca F1 Stock Cars?
The first time I saw stock car racing it was on television in the late fifties, amazing really because ever since then people have been trying to "sell" the sport to the media without much success until the BBC aired "Gears and Tears". The meeting as I recall it was transmitted live from somewhere called Brafield (on the Green!) and must have been a shock to the system for everybody but the best thing a ten year old could hope for. At the time the young petrolhead had to settle for grainy images of Jack Brabham and his rivals racing "properly" with the occasional spin to add excitement but this crowd at Brafield (which could have been on the moon for all I knew) were out and out stuntmen, the spun out, they rolled and burst into flames as standard operating procedure, but somewhere in there a race was actually going on and a hard core of pros knew what they were doing. A driver was interviewed who proudly displayed the bleeding gums which had held teeth before the last race started! The fence fell down but they parked a couple of cars in the gap and carried on!
What gave you the incentive to race
The incentive to actually have a go was planted soon after the TV experience when it turned out that stock cars were available locally in Manchester at Belle Vue. The family car at the time was a 1934 Humber which was only paraded on high days and holidays when it easily accommodated ten people of varied sizes. This monster was sold according to Dad to be used at Belle Vue and after being a pain in the arse for long enough I actually got to see the spectacle at Hyde Road although if that giant Humber was ever on view I do not know, "modifications" were extensive on all cars and I doubt there would be much left of its basic structure after its first race, the picnic tables and glazed partition would have had to go for a start! All my pals at the time were football mad and unimpressed by the stock cars, they all wanted play for United or City, but how many would? Whereas this stock car lark was open to all comers, you did not need talent to play any more than a Christian at the Coliseum did. There were many demonstrations of this at the early sixties meeting I saw from the huge "Popular Side" grandstand, there was a stock car hand book printed around that time which showed BV's capacity as 40,000 with 25,000 of that on the popular side. Kids had no-where to go to get a clear view between the adults, the place always seemed packed and if you took a place at the front you were there for the duration, they were packed four or five deep against the barrier. The Belle Vue promotion was slick as shit though a goose, two hours and very little exception to the rule, six races, a parade of new cars from Quicks of Manchester, time for the ALL IMPORTANT DRAW conducted by Ginger Al (his hair was ginger) and a Coronation Street personality; then it was off to the fun fair for the affluent. Anoraks like me would hang around for the full results from the Helter Skelter. The spectacle provided to anyone with 39 in their pocket could not be bettered and I wanted in. By the way 39 equates to 45 old pence, a little under 19 "new" ones, and juniors got in cheap.
First Car - Built, Bought or Borrowed
Unlike most budding drivers I was not in the motor trade. My contacts with the sport were via a couple of local drivers, Derek Walker and Ken Carter whose cars I had written up and drawn for the "Model Cars" magazine. Ken Carter had started racing in about '63 at Belle Vue with a self built car based on a J Type Bedford chassis (I think) and Derek went way back to the 50's, he had to retire after a heart attack, but I hung around his yard behind the old Don cinema in Ancoats and tried to absorb mechanical knowledge at the weekend. The car that Ken Carter started with came up for sale fourth hand for £45 and the general view was that I could not come to any harm in it, but learning to drive a road car might be an idea to consider first. In the event the driving lessons and a failed first driving test were fitted in around my first meeting in the stock car (powered by a Bedford S Type coach engine, as used in the Green Goddess fire engines). Willie Harrison had used the same kind of motor in his Vauxhall 25 in the fifties to win a Sheffield final I was told.
Memory of your first race.
First race tale is short and sweet, and even recorded in the "Stock Car News" by no less a person than Peter Arnold. "The race got off to a bad clutch start, caused by John Nolan stalling on the line" People said "I told you so", but in my defence it turned that the apparently firm brake pedal was due to swollen seals in the master cylinder not actual brakes, somebody had topped up the system with gear oil instead of Lockheed. When I pulled onto the grid I motored into the back of the front row with sufficient force to knock the throttle pedal loose, the engine would not run above tick over, as a result dipping the clutch and opening the tap when Ginger Morey dropped the flag from his perch on the safety fence had no effect. The phrase that we use today would be "Reality Bites", evidently there was a bit more to this racing lark than met the eye. I had chance to reflect on this as I was towed back to the pits, passing approximately 3,000 or so relatives and friends who had come to watch the newest star of stox! Like I say the RACE TALE is a short one but the excuses could go on forever, a fine tradition which persists to this day. The only good thing was that on the day I kept my mouth shut. Somewhere during the "race" to the infield I had lost the fan belt, almost lost the back bumper and the battery cage had come loose as well. In another age I would have made a shit hot Christian!
Best Racing Memory
The best memory I brought away from my many abortive attempts to complete a single competitive race was the good natured treatment I invariably received from everybody involved in the sport, I did have a car briefly that was quick enough to win a heat a Belle Vue, but not with me on board and not using the innovative racing line which would have required me to pass BEHIND the grandstands on the back straight. That was the end of that car more less, bent axle, twisted chassis and every weld in the roll cage cracked. Never the less I still got a booking for the next meeting on the strength of my "status" as the recipient of 200 Players No6 for rolling the car at the previous thrash. (Roger Spencer 315 did the same thing and we both got a ride round on the final winner's car waving the horrid things at the crows). Players sponsored a lot of Rally cross meetings at the time and the logic was that rolling a production car would do the shell in, so the smokes were a consolation prize.
Worst Racing Memory
Worst memory is the night at Bradford, years after I raced when I was on the crew of a car that had some input to the tragic series of events which resulted in the death of a spectator
Reason for Retiring
I was still entertaining the idea of racing well into the eighties, there was a Geoff Buck 204 car I bought from Doug Cronshaw and then sold to Rob Lane when the engine I was expecting to use turned out to be scrap and bankrupted the comeback. There was also a Mod Stock car and a brand new Higman F2 copy that were sold before they were raced. The year escapes me but I did have a bash at White City on a streaming wet night in the eighties, thanks to Derek Fairhurst 218. The heat race was completed at a sedate pace that did not require the scorer's attentions. It seems the brain had finally grown as big as the balls, but I had a punt at it in the Consi and reverted to type, parked up on the second lap and Good Night Vienna!
After Retiring - What Then?
After "racing" ceased the sport still held me, as an indifferent fabricator, spanner and tyre man, but I must have learned something because various drivers found some use in me. I was involved in a few attempts to advance the sport into the mainstream via local radio and "Custom Car" magazine, and finally made some money selling articles to sources including the American "Hot Rod" magazine. More recently I have done the odd meeting and World Final but the endless meetings and multiple racing classes are a far cry from the spectator's ideal I remember (rose coloured specs in place!) If the lottery comes in I would happily buy in and run a car for somebody else to drive.
