Go-Fever

I don’t regret what I said, but I do regret that I was powerless to do anything. That damned car should have never raced that day and maybe young Jack Hamilton would have got his hands on the world championship. Tragedy is not when we all say something is meant to be, it's when what should happen is cruelly taken away from us.

I met Jack back when he was a formula 3 driver and I was talent spotting for the Blue Arrows Formula One team for a new driver. Our current champion was getting sick of winning every race with the fastest car and wanted a bigger cheque then the one he was currently getting.

Watching from the sides, I could see he had a telepathic idea of what the next car could do, he was only nine inches away from the car in front. One mistake and they would both be killed. Nine. Jack was not only better than our current lead, but he wanted it more. I should begrudge him his success as being a racing driver was all I wanted to do when I was a kid, but my old man was right. There are no racing car drivers called Keith, so I became an engineer instead.

“That was pure driving my boy”, I said to him when I saw him in the paddock. He didn't look the part as he looked like he had just passed his driving test, but I could tell he had the talent. “I want to get up to F1”.

Jack shook my hand and went to his wife and child when I told him that. He was so humble about it, but I could tell that racing had been a dream for him too. I offered him what would be considered a top division footballer salary, but he did not care.

“As long as there is enough for Sara and the bairn, I am fine. I am just here for the racing, that's all”, he replied politely to the offer of untold riches. He was the first driver I had met and who had instantly steered the conversation towards money, which impressed immensely.

“If he is as good as you say he is Keith then, he is in. He will be perfect for the new computerised line of cars we are going to build”, said Dean Wolfe, the team owner and principal. Originally he was only in the racing business not for the thrill or the excitement, he was only there for the prestige and free advertising it would bring his liquor business. No one had heard of Blue Arrow Vodka before the racing team had won four World championships in a row. But now he was an arrogant son of a gun as he had conquered one particular market.

“What new line of cars? The car we have works and only with a few modifications should be still competitive”, I said wonder`1ing what plans I had not been privy to.

“Pfft, competitive. I don't want us to be just competitive. We need to maintain the high standards that I maintain in my other businesses. Our competitors are not far behind and I am determined, no pathological in my desire to see this team win another World Championship”, said Wolfe like a mad prophet.

“New what? We won't be ready in time for the new season if we include new technology into the car!”I protested as much as I could.

“I don't like your tone Keith. Frankly it is the wrong sort of attitude for our team. We are winners and this technology I am sure will keep us winning. If not on the same wavelength, I am sure you can find somewhere else”, said Wolfe guestering towards the door. I do ask myself why I did not take the exit that day and ran. But I know I stayed for Jack, because any other team would not stand a hope in hell’s chance of winning any grand prix, let alone the world championship.

I watched through my well worn binoculars Jack take the last bend perfectly at Brand’s Hatch in preparation for the long season ahead and cried. I did not know what I could say to him

“This is one hell of a car. Why I aren't driving this then the pig shite you got me to drive this morning?”, he asked from the cockpit of last season’s sublime car that won nearly every race in pole position. I put him in it because there were so many problems with the new car. A wheel had jammed shut and would not move because the computer had crashed.

“It’s okay, for now get yourself familiar with the controls and the speed. I will smooth it out with the boss about the new car”, I said calmly and positively, trying to convince myself that the issue could be solved when I knew it likely could not. I beamed straight for Wolfe’s office. He had been blowing me for days with excuses that he had business matters, but even he could see from the window of his office that his gamble had not paid off. A secretary exclaimed I could not go in as there was a meeting with the advertisers. Perfect.

“Well I am sorry gentlemen there will be no car to be advertised on as the one you have given me Dean is a complete dud! Jack or Benny are going to get themselves killed!” I said at the top of my voice. If the money men heard that they were putting money literally into a literal bomb on wheels, they might pull the plug.

“Keith, please. Let's not do this now. We can discuss this at a later date”, said Wolfe in a professionally concealed anger. The assembled ad men looked at me in wild confusion at who this burly mad man was screaming at them about motor cars. Thinking back I do not really blame them for picking Wolfe over me on who to believe.

“No! I am the chief engineer and you are not. I demand certain things in my practice such as damm good car, but you could not provide me with a safe one. We need to go back to the old car, I can still salvage the season for Jack”, I pleaded. But Wolfe only took one second to respond.

“It is too late for that. Wheels are physically in motion right now. That car that you just shamefully abused is the reason this team is still keeping afloat. Mr Yuishito here of Kombastu Electronics is now a major shareholder of our team and he wants his technology to be proudly displayed in a world champion winning car… I think your time with us Keith is over. We have a consistent track record in building great cars and I don't think we are going to maintain our streak with negative thoughts. I want your resignation on my desk tomorrow morning”, said Wolfe, which I initially thought was a joke as I had been the one who had been pulling off miracles to keep the car we had from parts of a mish mash of different companies a winning machine.

I said fine with no emotion and got out of that office. When I sat at my desk with a beer in hand, it hit me what I had done.

“Everything okay Boss?”, asked Jack who stood in the door frame with that charming toothy grin of his. I stood up instinctively.

“No, not good, I am afraid Jack. You are going to have to drive the pig shit new car for the next season by the looks of it. Some Japanese fella has bought the team up and is cramming his own tech in”, I said to a crestfallen Jack, but he knew those were the rules of the game. Money was the real power.

“At least you will be still here Boss?”he asked, as the last glimmer of hope. All I could do was tell him the truth as he trusted me on a day by day basis.

“I want you to promise that you will say no if things get too dangerous. A race is not worth your life. Your daughter has a right to know her dad”, I vowed to him, but I knew it was not a promise he could make. He wanted to really race and as a rookie he might not have another chance like this again.

We parted with a handshake and I told him to look after himself. After I left the Team HQ, I got the numbers of every Motor racing journalist I could get my hands on and told them that we would likely see another death in motor racing.

Most did not listen but a few did where the more serious journalists, like my old friend Stuart Glenn. Stewie had been the first driver I worked with in the old Van Mussell team I started with. He put pressure on Wolfe and the Blue Arrow Team in press conferences. We met at the first race in Warsaw for the Polish Grand Prix.

“What if you are right and the car crashes? Do you think you can just sit here and watch?”, asked Stewie straight faced. I just looked at him and did not know what to say, because deep down I hoped I was wrong for Jack’s sake. The Blue Arrow team had reported no crashes or mechanical failures and had gone one to two on the starting grid. But it will take one error on the part of the car for everything to go wrong.

The red lights turned to green, but I stared at the recovery vehicle through the entire race, willing it not to move from it’s position confirming the worst had happened.

“Here comes the chequered flag and its Blue Arrow number 93 who is in the lead! I think I am going to have to change my intro for my race report now Keith”, said Stewie with a hard slap on the back. I did not know whether to be happy, relieved or mad at myself. Jack had won his first race. I mouthed a sorry to Stewie’s journalistic woes.

“It’s all right, but we will wait and see if you are right. The car sure looks different to anything else I had seen on the track”, he said Stewie leaving me to my thoughts. I was certain that the car was unsafe, but the victories kept coming in for Jack. He was in the lead with a first World Championship in sight on his debut campaign. I sent him a message of support in the mail, telling him to keep his head down. I was so surprised that Jack replied back, thanking me for everything I had done and that I was the reason that he was in the driving seat.

Then came that day at Silverstone. It had been raining heavily making the track an ice rink. I had such a bad feeling that something bad was going to happen, I did not want to drive and watch the race. I tried desperately to reach Jack to tell him not to race, but he was too busy in preparation. When I heard the news that his car had driven at full speed into the back of another driver due to the onboarded computer crashing, killing them both instantly, I broke down at the thought of the kind eager young man losing his life.

I am too old for this fight now Polly, but I wanted you to know you was responsible for your father’s death. Pure overconfidence. If they had stopped to think that a mistake could possibly happen you may have known your father. Sometimes a green light should give us a minute to pause.