A sickening noise signalled something was seriously wrong. I was walking under the grandstand to rejoin my family and the seats my father had reserved opposite the start/finish line at Ardmore, 66 years ago. Thankfully hidden from view, I could hear but not see the violence of the tragedy that was unfolding.
Comfortably leading the sports car race before the 1957 New Zealand Grand Prix, Ken Wharton, at the wheel of his Ferrari Monza, was lapping a slower car when he moved out onto loose metal and shingle that had been brushed off the track. The car somersaulted several times, throwing the driver onto the track, causing serious head injuries.
Two hours later, while waiting for the start of the feature Grand Prix, a hushed crowd heard over the public address system an update on Wharton, who had been taken to hospital. As a green 11-year-oId, I had to ask my mother what the words “fatally injured” meant.
The 40-year-old Englishman from Smethwick near Birmingham was a star driver for the country’s premier motor race. In addition to the Ferrari, he had brought with him a 250F Maserati and a Formula 2 Cooper for Alex Stringer to drive. In qualifying, Wharton put the open wheeler Maserati on the front row of the grid with the second fastest lap time. At the driver briefing Wharton had been insistent
