One big problem with racing cars is having to use tow cars and trailers to get them about the place. I should at this juncture tell you about my old tow car – I was the only doctor in Australia who had his own private ambulance, as I had purchased a secondhand retired ambulance, which was complete with stretchers in the back and lots of cubby holes for tools and such, where once it had been bandages and splints. It also meant we could sleep some crew members while on the move.
With the next closest circuit being 1000 km away, the ambulance allowed me to sleep for the overnight trip to Sydney. That was the plan. But all plans can go wrong.
Once such was around 2 a.m. and I was asleep in the back when I heard the rattle of stones under the mudguards, signifying that we had at least two wheels off the bitumen, and then there was a tremendous bang, after which I was wide awake.
There was a car on our side of the road but facing away from us, obviously on the wrong side of the road. The occupants appeared unhurt and were easily seen, as the entire driver’s side of the car was missing. It was also easily seen that they were drunk.
Our damage was limited to the front axle of the trailer, which now instead of being straight was in a nice bow shape. Piecing it all together, they had come round the corner too fast, running on to our side of the road and sideswiped the front axle of the four-wheel trailer, tearing out the two driver’s side doors on their car. It was a wonder that nobody was hurt.
Now this was the days before everyone had a mobile phone in their pocket and we had to wait till someone else came along to get them to alert the police in the next town. We then had to wait for another two hours, making it 4 a.m. before we could notify the authorities and would be free to continue our journey to Sydney.
To do that, we had to remove the entire front axle and place it on the trailer with the race car, and now with a two wheel trailer we set off on the remaining 300 km to the race circuit on the outskirts of Sydney.
We were unable to drive at the pace we had done before, and the trailer would start swaying at anything more than 30 km/h, but we droned on relentlessly, finally arriving at the circuit at 4 p.m., to be told that my practice and qualifying sessions were over, and since I had not raced at that circuit before I would be denied a start on Sunday, race day!
With much wringing of hands I saw the stewards of the meeting and began to plead my case. I swear I could have got Al Capone out of his tax rap, with the extenuating circumstances I cited. Eventually they took pity on me and said I could have four laps at the end of the day, and if I was quick enough and judged competent enough, I would get a start, but from the back row of the grid.
Waved out on to the circuit I had the Herculean task of setting fast laps on a circuit I had never seen before, but we managed it. At least we were guaranteed a start, even if it was grid position 29. However, we were there to race and finished 5th to the cheers of the crew.
So we then turned around and limped the 1,000 km back to Brisbane. Just another weekend of towing. Just another weekend of drama, but we were young enough to take it all in our stride, though we were all dreadfully late for work on the Monday!
The tow car saga is why we use slide-ons here!
