The Curator Robert Dean

Top larks and heartstopping moments on the Argentina Mille Millas with F1 legend Clay Regazzoni

BELOW “The best co-driver!”

High praise indeed from Formula 1 racing maestro Clay Regazzoni.

BACK IN

THE MID-2000S I

WAS asked by a Dutch friend, Donald Cok, whether I’d like to do the Argentina Mille Millas with him, because he’d been invited along by Pur Sang. I accepted straight away.

Our journey to South America was an adventure in itself, but once we got to Buenos Aires I discovered that Pur Sang had partnered me with Clay Regazzoni. The ex-Formula 1 star was driving his Argentinian Torino rally car, which had been adapted with hand controls because of his damaged legs.

The controls were quite neat: a steel, spring-loaded ring in the steering wheel for throttle, a lever mounted under the column attached to the brake pedal, and a trigger on the gearlever which controlled a motor that pulled a cable attached to the clutch pedal. A rheostat meant you could feather the clutch for hillstarts.

The rally started and finished each day at the hotel, and rather than do the reliability sections, Clay just drove at his own pace and enjoyed the trip. He was such fun, and we spent the whole time telling each other stories about my boss Bernie Ecclestone, F1 racing and all manner of other things.

When I got in the car, I commented that there were no seatbelts. When Clay asked if I wanted some, I replied: “Are you going to crash?” “I don’t think so,” was his response. “Then let’s get on with it,” I said, and we never did put them in – although there was a point when I wished we had.

While driving fast down a mountain road in Chile, there was a scrabbling noise of gravel on the car’s underside. I looked up to see Clay in a full opposite-lock slide on the outside of a bend into a parking area. He collected it all together, and I said: “Well held! We have to turn left at the bottom of the hill.” We continued on our way, and later on I discovered that he had nodded off and just caught it in time.

On another steep, fast road, there was a clunk and a bang, and the entire linkage fell off the brake pedal. “Ah, we appear to have no brakes Clay,” I gasped. “It’s not a problem,” he replied, and lifted his leg onto the brake pedal and pushed his knee when we needed to slow down. At the bottom of the mountain road, we stopped at a café. I went round the back and pulled a stake out of a fence, found a piece of wire and wired the stake to the brake pedal. This then sat in his lap.

One day we stopped for a coffee in a lovely square, and I asked if I could have a go in his car. He said I wouldn’t be able to work the hand controls, so I bet him a bottle of Champagne. “Don’t crash it!” he said.

I managed quite well, with only a few bunny hops, and soon I was driving round the square with ease. I stopped next to him so he could get in. “No one has been able to drive this; you’re the first,” he said. “Ah, but I’ve had a good teacher. I’ve been watching how you do it,” I replied. He later honoured our bet with a very nice bottle of Champagne.

We spent our time laughing, and we got on so well that the days flew past. Too soon, it was all over. At the gala dinner, Clay bought me an album of all the shots the rally photographer had taken of our car. He signed it, and added: “The best co-driver!” This was quite an accolade to have from him.

The year after, in 2006, I was at the Circuit Des Remparts in Angoulême. I came round a corner, and there, sitting in his wheelchair in the square, was Clay. He greeted me with great kindness and enthusiasm.

He told me he was thinking of doing the event, and so had come to take a look. I asked him if he’d been into the paddock, but he said he didn’t have a ticket. “You’re in the company of a master blagger,” said I, as I pushed him over to the paddock gate.

Now I had a ticket, but the guard wouldn’t allow Clay in. How rude! I noticed a small Ferrari badge on the guard’s tunic, so I took him aside and said: “Do you know who this is?” He shook his head. “It’s Clay Regazzoni.” It was like he had an electric shock; suddenly he couldn’t do enough for us.

Clay had a picture taken with him and signed the guard’s programme, and they had a nice chat. After that,

Clay was allowed to come and go as he pleased. In the paddock, my friend Martin Edgar had his Lenham Sprite. Clay was most taken with it; he’d started his career in one exactly like it.

By the end of that year, Clay had been killed in a road accident, which was a great sadness. I did the Mille Millas again in 2007, with Pur Sang’s chief engineer in a Type 35. We had much fun driving the wheels off it, trying to keep up with the big Bentleys and other faster cars. In fact, we used a full set of tyres in four days… what larks! If I win the Lottery, I’ll do that event again and think of Clay. It’ll be a blast! Be part of the machinery. Former Ecclestone Collection manager Robert now runs Curated Vehicle Management. See www.c-v-m.co.uk.

DELAGE

D8C Faux-Cabriolet Vanvooren, 1932

ALFA-ROMEO 6C2500SS Cabriolet Pininfarina, 1949

ALVIS TE21 Graber Super Coupé, 1965

CITROEN DS19, 1956

FIAT 1400 Cabriolet Bertone, 1951

HONDA S800 Coupé, 1967

AVIONS-VOISIN C11 Coupé Chartapola, 1928

LANCIA Flaminia Sport Zagato 2,5 3C, 1963

LANCIA Lambda Berlina, 1929

LINCOLN Continental V12, Cabriolet, 1947

PANHARD-LEVASSOR 20CV Sport, 1930

ROLLS-ROYCE Phantom II Coupé de Ville, 1932