By the time this issue is on sale, Brett will have turned 70. He doesn’t look it, but he’s recently retired and is finally ready to reflect on all the great things he achieved, of chances missed and the importance of being as savvy out of the car as in it.
Brett came closer than most Kiwis to getting into Formula 1 (F1). He beat a field comprising a smattering future F1 drivers, including a world champion-in-waiting. That put the just-turned 24-year-old Brett Riley into the headlines – because winning in Formula 3 (F3), motor racing’s iconic proving ground, was as good a sign as any that big things were not far away.
That year, 1977, had started full of hope, which soon turned to chaos, before things got back on track with the help of a fellow British-based Kiwi Peter Buckleigh – an extraordinarily enthusiastic motor racing fanatic, who remains one of Brett’s closest friends.
Brett and I have barely sat down for lunch when he opens up about an overarching aspect to his life: “I’ve always been shy and timid. Some people grow out of it, but I never have.” This is hardly the popular image of a top driver oozing confidence with the swagger of a prize fighter and for who winning at all costs is pure oxygen.
“I was always fascinated by motor racing,” he says, “but in my mind, I was never going to be a racing driver.”
It is a fascinating insight. It is important at this point to highlight that Brett’s childhood was spent watching his larger-than-life father dovetail motor racing with establishing the successful J Riley Car Sales.
EMULATING ALIENS
Johnny Riley had had a storied career – from fighter pilot to stock car racer, before transitioning to the circuits with his great mate Irvine ‘Red’ Dawson. Despite growing up with motor racing all around him, Brett calls his career “a career by accident. My elder sister Charlene was a good horse rider, and so on weekends, when we weren’t following Dad at the tracks, my parents were at equestrian events. I was left to entertain myself in my hot Mini. In a car, I became a different person. I was a silly young boy, a bit out of control, terrorising Papatoetoe.
“Eventually, the police got involved and things got serious when they turned up at home,” he says.
A friend of Brett’s dad suggested he “put him in a kart”. Discussing. Up until that point, not only had I never been a sports person, [but also] I hadn’t succeeded in anything – but, after six months of karting, I had done pretty well.”
