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The Beginning

© Max J. Davies

My father was never a true grand prix fan. Preferring to watch England battle against the Aussie's at Lord's, my earliest memories as a child, are of talk concerning the great's of Cricket; Ian Botham, Don Bradman 'et al', and not the many legends of motor racing. In our house, Formula One was, at the time, virtually non-existent. However, on June 3rd 1984, all that changed forever and my father's appreciation for a sport he had at times found, intolerable, was given a new lease of life. It was on this day that I in turn, discovered a childhood hero and my subsequent love of motor racing began.

I remember the day well, for I was nearing my eighth birthday and bored with staring endlessly at my bedroom ceiling, I descended the stairs in search of excitement. It was then I heard a strange and unfamiliar sound exiting the room where my father was sitting. Eager to investigate, I trundled into our living room where I proceeded to stop dead in my tracks, transfixed by the images being relayed on the television set. I stood motionless, staring at the screen, observing the most amazing pictures I had ever seen. My first experience of grand prix racing was watching a man in a bright yellow helmet, muscle his red and white car passed another of similar colour, around the outside of Monaco's St Devote corner in the pouring rain. The manoeuvre sent me to a level of excitement previously unattained and it was at that moment that I discovered a hero....Ayrton Senna.

The 1984 Monaco Grand Prix has of course gone down in history as the race Senna would have won, had it not been stopped early due to the weather. Unaware of this fact at the time, I sat motionless on the sofa for the closing laps, just watching the impressive machines trundle between the armco barriers. "Who's that daddy?" I asked, as Senna's Toleman came into view. "That driver is called Ayrton Senna," came the reply. From that second, every time there was a flash of his famed yellow helmet, I screamed "Ayrton!..Ayrton!..Ayrton!" My father's patience beginning to wear thin with my repeated cries, I was soon informed that the race had been stopped - there would be no more racing. "Who won dad? Did Ayrton Senna win?" My father's reply informed me that it had been Alain Prost who had won with Senna second. Upon hearing this distressing news, coupled with the knowledge that the race had now finished, I returned to my room and reminisced about the past hour and a half of my life - I had now fallen in love with Formula One.

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