AJ

by Alan Jones

  It must have worked though, he finally made the grid in 26th and I was 16th. As a team, we worked pretty hard to get the car right, and in the race it all seemed to fall into place nicely, as I climbed up to fifth with a few retirements helping me. It was my second set of points in Formula One and Surtees’ first in nearly two seasons, so that was a big deal for all of us.

  The glory was short-lived, because Monaco, as ever, was there to dent an ego. A crash on the second lap gave me an early shower.

  Both cars finished in Sweden, where the six-wheeler Tyrrell won its only race, and then at Paul Ricard I retired with suspension failure. I jumped a spot at Brands Hatch after the race as the little war between Ferrari and McLaren kept rolling on with protests, this time Ferrari winning and James being disqualified. So I jumped up to another fifth-placed finish while Brett didn’t make the chequered flag.

  By now I had won my first Formula 5000 race in the States, well Canada really, at Mosport Park but it was in that series. It was an almost perfect weekend, I just missed pole and then went on to win the race by a second or two from Jackie Oliver. Brian Redman, who won the first round, was down in eighth, so already, just two rounds in I knew I was in the championship mix.

  I backed up that win with another at Watkins Glen just after the British Grand Prix. Qualifying didn’t go so well as I adjusted to the March 76A I was given that weekend, but I came second in my heat which improved my grid position and then I just had to take over the running in the main race from Al Unser, and I won the race from him by quite a margin and was leading the championship – that series rewarded winning well in terms of points. Plunger was in that race too.

  And that brought us to the German Grand Prix, the last at the old Nürburgring. Niki Lauda had been trying to get all the drivers to boycott the race because he felt it was unsafe, but that was never going to work with people like me wanting to race. So we set about practice and qualifying, me learning a little more each lap. I qualified 14th (Brett was 24th), which was not a bad result considering how many laps you can actually run and the little games I had to play with John to get the car sorted.

  The race started on a wet track that was going to dry, so with a seven-minute lap you had to work out how big a gamble you were willing to take. It is not like a normal track: firstly, the track doesn’t dry quickly because you simply don’t have cars going over the same piece of tarmac regularly enough, and if you have the wrong tyres on it is a long time before you can fix the error. Jochen Mass was the only driver in the field brave enough to run slicks at the start and that proved to be the right decision for speed, and by the second lap pretty much everyone had stopped and he led the race.

  On the second lap, Niki crashed his Ferrari just before the Bergwerk curve. He hit the wall quite hard and bounced back onto the track with his car burning – there was a bloke in the crowd who filmed it all on his little hand-held camera, and you can find it on YouTube. His car came to rest in the middle of the track on fire when Brett came around the corner and hit Niki’s car.

  As with a lot of that track, it can take a bit of time to get help, so Brett and Harald Ertl, who also hit Niki’s car, were trying to get him out of the burning car. As we all know, Niki was badly burnt, lost half his ear, and his lungs were never the same. But he was soon back racing. The race was stopped after just two laps and then it started again for the second part after Niki had been taken away to hospital.

  In the 14 laps that made up what they called Race 2, I skinned my knuckles to what felt like bone for a 10th-placed finish, and that is when I cracked the shits with John. I was there to race, not look after the aesthetics of his car, and if he put a bubble in it so I could change gears I could do that a lot better. We had a good argument and I got my bubble – which you could barely see.

  Back to the US again for the Formula 5000 at Mid-Ohio Raceway, a great track but again in the middle of nowhere. I qualified for the final back in a newer Lola than earlier in the season, but didn’t start the race. Jackie joined me in the lead of the championship, with Brian Redman and Al Unser closing in.

  Back at the Austrian Grand Prix I didn’t finish, but I got eighth at Zandvoort a couple of weeks later, which was the only clash for the season with what I was doing in the States. Interestingly Brett decided to do the race in the States over the Dutch Grand Prix, and ultimately missing that race cost me that title.

  Monza wasn’t much fun and I was a lap down, we just didn’t have speed in qualifying, because we weren’t preparing the car properly. We had to deal with John and his ways, and I was not really enjoying myself all that much. To top it off, I didn’t think that either the team or I could get anywhere the way it was structured, so by then – which was September – I was already trying to think of a way out.

  The whole thing was demotivating and making me angry. I knew every time I turned up at a grand prix when they unloaded the car the splitters were going to be reset and we’d have to do it all again. We wasted practice sessions on this; no wonder we were getting nowhere.

  I knew I was better than what I was showing. I know Brett wasn’t a superstar, but he was missing the cut in qualifying and I was making the grid, so if you measure yourself by your teammate I was doing OK. He had a nice pulse, or I assume he did because he was always taking it, but he really wasn’t a yardstick to measure myself by.

  It’s an old saying, but the first person you’ve got to beat is your teammate. Simple as that. You’ve got to establish superiority in the team, because then if you want any alterations or any modifications they’re more inclined to do it for you than for him. You’re further up the grid, you’ve got the better results, you’re going the quickest … so let’s look after you. Anyway, Brett had worked out he wasn’t a Formula One driver and we had a range of other drivers come in and out of the team – each I assume with a bit of money, which again reinforced my feeling I didn’t want to stay.

  The Canadian Grand Prix ended up being just more of the same, as was the US Grand Prix at Watkins Glen the next week and that took us to Japan.

  I stayed in the States and went to the final round of the Formula 5000 Championship. I needed to win the race to have a chance at the championship. I didn’t win the race; in fact all I could manage was fourth, with all my main title rivals in front of me. Brian Redman ended up winning the series from Unser, Oliver and then me … if I had won the race I would have beaten Brian.

  The problem for me though was that John had an option on my contract for 1977 and had until something like midnight on the Thursday before we started practice in Canada – the last day of September – to exercise it. In Canada I was hiding in my room so I didn’t have to sign that bloody option.

  Eventually I thought, ‘Ah bugger it, this is ridiculous. I’m going down for a hamburger.’ Well, the lift door opens, and Surtees is standing there, holding the option.

  There was no way I was going to sign that option. If the only way I could race Formula One in 1977 was with Surtees, then I would find something else to do.

  I wanted more. I was there to do a job, not just to tool around playing games with an ex-driver who couldn’t let go.

  I have the greatest of admiration for John’s achievements as a racer, and Graham Hill’s too. Both were World Champions, Graham twice in cars and John in cars and bikes (four times). He is still the only person to have done both. Big John went for two years without losing a motorcycle race. He started in two classes of bike racing, he was bloody good and even today must rate as one of the greatest on two wheels.

  But that doesn’t mean they were suited to running a race team. As soon as I started driving for John I realised why the results weren’t coming. People like Mike Hailwood and John Watson had driven for him and none of them got results. Another Aussie and one of life’s gentlemen, Tim Schenken, also drove for him.

  I was told the story after I started about a test session at Paul Ricard. John had to go back to London on business and while he was away Hailwood made up some alumi
nium plates to put on the front of the car to stop the ‘Surtees understeer’ as we called it – it seems it was always a factor.

  ‘Well, John, I think I’ve just found half a second,’ Hailwood announced, when John got back. To which Surtees said, ‘I don’t care, I didn’t OK those modifications,’ and made him take them off. Megalomaniac.

  There were several occasions where I could’ve just told John to go and jump in the lake, many, many occasions. But you had to wait until an offer came around for a better team and I did have that bloody option for the second year to deal with.

  The final race of the Formula One season was the first ever Japanese Grand Prix, at Fuji, and it was wet, which always suited me. It had its moments. James and Niki, who was back racing but hardly recovered, were fighting it out for the title. The conditions were so bad that Niki pulled out of the race after the second lap – he was one of four drivers to simply decide it was too dangerous. That meant James had to finish in fourth or higher to win the title. I was running fourth late in the race and closing in on what I hoped would be my first podium, a position I held for precisely one corner.

  James had to change tyres while leading near the end of the race – which is how I got to third – and then he started to get back all the spots he needed. Unfortunately that included me. There was nothing I could do to stop him when he was on fresh tyres and mine had had it. James knew he had to finish fourth or better, but he didn’t know where he was in the race, so he was driving as hard as he could. He didn’t need to take the risk of catching and passing me to win the title, but he thought he needed to. So he did.

  They pretty much wiped me out of the Rush movie, because my old car had been crashed just before filming began and they couldn’t show it. So if you’ve watched the movie, it was actually me that James passed to take third, not Clay Regazzoni.

  The weather was really bad, it was almost dark, but that didn’t bother me. When you’re in a shitheap you’ve got nothing to lose, so it’s head-down, bum-up, and go for it. I put that car where it shouldn’t have been. I’m sure if it was dry it would have been 12th or something, not looking at a podium. Because it was wet, you take a few little chances and stick your neck out. I may very well have got third had it not been for James. The opening laps of the race in the rain I was just passing people; in the latter part of the race I was just looking after tyres, although I still had as much speed as anyone but James.

  Niki never spoke to me for years after that because he was absolutely convinced I pulled over and let James go through, because I was good mates with James. I kept saying to Niki, ‘No way.’ Did he really think I would surrender my first podium? Niki was calling me the ‘champion maker’, which was shit. James passed me, simple. I would have loved to have been on the podium.

  Fourth was a bloody good result for that car and in those conditions. It did surprise me that Niki pulled out; I wouldn’t have if I’d been a chance for World Champion. I wasn’t and I didn’t. I’ve got respect for him for having the strength and courage to make that decision, but I lost a little bit of respect for him as a racing driver. I get back to what my old man always used to say: motor racing is only as dangerous as you want to make it, you only have to drive as fast as the conditions allow for your car on that day, and hopefully it’s faster than the others.

  Niki didn’t have to do much, all he needed was a point or two and he would have won the championship. He didn’t have to win the race. He may have only had to trundle around, keep it on the island, and he could have been world champion again. One thing is for sure, as soon as he pulled in the pits he left it wide open for James.

  It was a big gamble to take. I appreciate the fact that he had half his face burnt off and that maybe he had some issues with tear ducts, and that probably made him think a little bit more than what he would normally have done. I just think that if you’re a racing driver, you’re a racing driver. The Ronnie Petersons of this world just get in and go.

  Crashes can either sharpen you up or blunten you. I think you need to have some kind of sense of your mortality otherwise you can be very dangerous. I remember Ayrton Senna got to the stage where he saw God going through the tunnel at Monaco, or some bloody nonsense. I think you do have to have a little bit of fear. Invariably I’d say you’d have two really good scares a season, and if I had mine at the beginning of the season I was happy because I got them over and done with.

  I always used to make sure that I had insurance and that I had all the best safety equipment I could afford. I took all the necessary precautions at the beginning of the year, then I went for it. That’s all you can do. Otherwise go and be an accountant.

  With Niki, I just couldn’t work out why he made that decision. As I said, it was entirely up to him, and I respect his courage that he did it, especially driving for a team like Ferrari. I don’t think the team with all its Italian bravado would have been that impressed.

  I didn’t think about it for too long though, I had my own mess to sort out. Even though I had a good season, it could have been better, but without signing that piece of paper I was out of a drive for 1977.

  Knowing I was now free for 1977, Teddy Yip asked me if I wanted to run an IndyCar. I figured I had nothing to lose, so he took me out to this place called Ontario Motor Speedway, which is an exact replica of Indy and nowhere near Ontario in Canada; it was in the City of Ontario in Los Angeles. They had a McLaren of Bill Simpson’s – he made safety equipment for racing. I drove it and I hated it. I’ve never spent so much time in a pair of overalls and so little time on the track. A bloody aeroplane would fly over and they’d stop practice because of the shadow it cast. A little bit of wind and racing or practice was stopped. I just didn’t like it.

  Then I started taking lines. I started going up on the right-hand side of the track and cut down to go through the corner. At one stage I cut off AJ Foyt and he came up to me and said, ‘Boy, we don’t take lines, we just go around.’ I thought, ‘Oh OK, good.’

  McLaren may have won Indy that year, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t with the car I was driving. In fact, Steve Krisiloff drove the car as well, and he said, ‘AJ, if it’s any consolation it’s the biggest bag of shit I’ve ever driven.’

  Dan Gurney tried to convince me to drive one of his cars, he said it would be a lot better. But no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn’t into it. I just didn’t like the cars and didn’t like the ovals. I didn’t like the fact that I could be in sixth position, minding my own business, and old mate that’s winning or coming second, loses it, goes up and hits the wall, comes back down the track and either you’re hit by a gearbox or a flying wheel. Or if you swerved to miss him, because they’re rear-engine cars it becomes a pendulum and you go in to the wall yourself. It’s tantamount to rollerball and it wasn’t for me, but I went and had a look.

  In the end I said to Teddy I just didn’t want to do it. I didn’t like it and I figured if I was going to be unhappy racing I may as well be unhappy in Formula One, and I bailed. Before I could even sit there in my own misery, Teddy said let’s go to Vegas for the weekend, and that is as good a place as I know to forget anything.

  Eventually I made it back to Australia and then I thought, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  Niki Lauda

  I never really had a lot to do with Niki Lauda, but I admire much of what he did even if I did think he was soft at Fuji.

  I never did entertain Niki’s argument that I let James Hunt through at Fuji, and I don’t think he liked that. Even though he was fairly charismatic we had a period like the cold war. James used to socialise with him a reasonable amount, and he kept saying, ‘Niki’s a good bloke, give him a go …’ but I didn’t.

  Niki used to like the odd fag and a drink from time to time, but he was very clever, and wanted people to think he was articulate – which he was. But he was very pig-headed in a Germanic way. We mended our bridges over time, and I quite enjoy what time I get with him now.

  I remember I wa
s coming back from London one year, and I got on the plane and this very unmistakable voice came on and said, ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.’ It was Niki. I asked the hostess to go up to the pilot – who she would not confirm was Niki – and say that Alan Jones is here and says hello. She came straight back – Niki had invited me up to see him and I spent most of the flight with him in the cockpit.

  While his airline is no longer in business, it was a big deal for a while. When one of his planes crashed and killed more than 200 people in Thailand back in 1991, it was his tenaciousness that finally got Boeing to accept the blame and completely exonerate Lauda Air. They had to modify the fault out of their planes. That’s the sort of guy he is. He was part of the investigation and just would not give up.

  He’s reasonably heartless, he is very Germanic, he’s strong-headed and single-minded, ruthless and intelligent. He was not as robotic as Rush made him out to be, but that film did show his courage well. From what I know, all that stuff in the movie where they were sticking things down his throat and clearing it out all happened as shown. That was amazing, I’m not sure I could have done it.

  The fact that he made the comeback so quickly and went to Monza was just amazing bravery. I hold Niki in very high esteem despite my doubts over Japan, I really do. He’s one of the greats.

  6

  Me and My Shadow

  SO THERE I was having an Australian summer that I really didn’t want. Strangely, given my intense dislike of the cold, I craved to be back in Europe in the middle of winter. It was frustrating: just as I was getting momentum again, it had all stopped.