I've been following this "Our Sport" thread with some interest, and hope I will
be allowed to add the seldom-heard perspective of the Great Unwashed to the
debate. I love vintage race cars, but haven't a hope in Hell of participating
other than as a fascinated spectator. I had been waiting for someone to hit the
right note in this thread, and it came from Terry Jackson when he wrote:
> ...When I first discovered vintage racing in the 1980s and wrote my book, what
> everyone told me was that the stars are the cars, not the drivers.
> ...It seems to me that we cross over a critical line when we put real race
> drivers in our cars. To these guys, these cars we cherish are simply blunt
> objects designed to get them to the winner's circle. That's how they treated
> the cars when they were new, it's how many of them treat them now
> ...I didn't get into this because I felt I was some undiscovered Jeff Gordon
> or Alex Zanardi. I got into it because I love the cars, the speed and, yes the
> competition. But it's got to be competition with people who come at the sport
> -- yes, I think it's a sport -- from the same perspective as I do, not some
> retired race driver who's trying to relive his glory days.
Just so, and succinctly put. I grew up 40 miles from Watkins Glen, and started
going there in 1962. From then until the end of the Glen's GP era, I don't think
I missed a single GP, Six-Hour, 500, Trans-Am, or Can-Am event. While Moss had
retired by that time, I had avidly followed his exploits in R&T, Competition
Press, and his own books. I saw Brabham, Siffert, Clark, Amon, Gurney,
Rodriguez, both Hills, Scarfiotti, Surtees, Hulme, McLaren, and, of course, the
first GP wins by Rindt, Fittipaldi, and Cevert. That was racing, just like the
Championship battles today between Hakkinen and Irvine, Jarrett and Labonte. As
was often proved in the "Golden Era" and is just as true today, put those same
drivers in Go-Karts or on pennyfarthings and they're going to race.
I'm sure the owner/drivers of today's Vintage Racing scene feel the same
competitive urge as their professional counterparts, but...well, to put it as
charitably as possible, generally have far less talent and vastly less
experience. That didn't matter so much in the early years, when the ranks were
thin and the cars were much more cherished than they seem to be now. But a
high-performance car is like a finely-crafted shotgun: sure, it looks great, but
eventually you're going to get the urge to shoot it. Competition is war, and war
escalates. I think the line was *really* crossed when exceptionally well-heeled
tyros put Le Pur Sang aside and came to the rumble with the Saturday Night
Special of Vintage Racing, the Chevron B-19. Relatively plentiful -- therefore
expendable to the deep-pocketed in a way no vintage Ferrari or Maserati can be
-- and dangerously, satisfyingly quick, the boys at the top fought it out
without the humbling constraint (private or public) of being held responsible
for the safety of the crown jewels. The next stage of the escalation, of course,
was just as it had been in "real" racing: professional drivers.
I was at Lime Rock when Brian Redman made his first "vintage" appearance there.
The fact that he *was* Brian Redman was certainly not heralded with the P.T.
Barnum-level of ballyhoo which have accompanied the recent vintage guest-shots
of Moss, Hill, Brabham, Surtees, et al: Redman is a former professional racer
who happens to love vintage cars. His capital "V" vintage-racing credentials and
commitment are impeccable -- Summit Point continues to prove that beyond
argument -- and he genuinely cares for the machinery. But it seems that the
introduction of a pro -- even one as mature and responsible as Redman -- into
the hitherto amateur ranks of vintage racing has given the better-financed
entrants and promoters a taste of real blood they can't seem to get enough of.
The question is: why?
Is it because Barnums like Steve Earle think they could possibly cram more
people into Laguna Seca during the Historics? Is it to enhance the prestige of
an event, the payback for which is to allow "Names" to race with few or none of
the constraints amateur drivers have to observe, on pain of never being allowed
to run again -- a prospect I'm sure bothers someone like Moss not one pinch of
owl dung? I don't pretend to know. I DO know this: having neither the money nor
the connections to party hearty with Joel Finn or Steve Earle or even Jocko
Maggiacomo, I come to see the cars. I could care less what the tort lawyers, day
traders, and amateur gynecologists do on the track (though I'm sure it matters
to them a GREAT deal); but I'm damned glad they have the money to make the cars
live again, even with the outré California-Dreamin' over-restorations. As for
the "Vintage" greats, IMHO there is a vast difference between having two
comfortable old teammates like snake-oil salesman Carroll Shelby and the
eminently likeable Roy Salvadori trundling royally around in a DBR than it is to
have the irascible blood-in-the-eye mercenary Stirling Moss turning a similar
car into Mr. Jackson's aptly-yclept "blunt object." Again, in *my* humble
opinion, Moss HAD his day -- and slendid days they were, between 1948 and 1961
-- but those days are gone. Astons are forever...or ought to be.
Bart Brown
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