THE FRANKWILLIAMS I KNEW

PICTURES

FRANK WILLIAMS AND I GREW UP TOGETHER.

Not in the sense of boyhood friends, but as wannabe members of the Formula 1 establishment; Frank as a respected entrant; me as a journalist. During the time I was a salesman in the early 1970s, Frank was also using fast talk to inveigle money from whoever might help him go racing with a variety of cars that retired more often than they finished. But I’d seen a rare exception at first hand when a keen fan in 1975.

My weekends were spent going to motor races, with grands prix high on the agenda if they were within reach. The Nürburgring was always a favourite, particularly since it was easy to blag your way into the paddock once the race had finished. In 1975, I witnessed universal delight as the F1 world descended on the Williams truck to congratulate Frank and Jacques Laffite for finishing second in a car which, given the nature of the Nordschleife, had defied all logic by holding together for 14 punishing laps. The fact that Laffite was a minute and a half behind the winner didn’t matter; a Williams driver was on the podium for the first time since the heady days of Piers Courage in a privately entered Brabham in 1969.

Frank seemed stunned as he stood quietly to one side and accepted