DEREK BELL
By 1995 Justin was well on his way as a driver. He called me a month before the 24 Hours of Le Mans and said he and Andy [Wallace] were going to race and wanted me to join them. I was 53 at the time and had driven the Le Mans race 24 times already and won it five times. I figured I’d done enough. But he was adamant and I couldn’t say no. We were with Mach One Racing in a McLaren F1 GTR with a BMW S70 6.1-liter V-12 engine—and I didn’t get to drive the car before we got to Le Mans. I think we were 12th on the grid, but at about 3 am we were leading the race in diabolical conditions. In the middle of the night, it was Justin’s turn to take over from me. Usually you lean in and tell the next driver about the conditions and what to look out for—grease on the Mulsanne Straight, water in the chicane, etc. But as I strapped him in and he’s looking up at me with those big eyes, waiting for Dad’s words of wisdom, I couldn’t say a thing. It was a nightmare out there, so wet, and I was so scared for him—he was about 26 years old. I slammed the door—I couldn’t talk. It was bloody horrible. Dare I ask how it went? We did great. Came in 3rd overall and 2nd in our class, with 296 laps. The McLaren F1 GTR finished first with 298 laps. It was the highlight of my life! What’s the greatest challenge as a race car driver? I know some drivers have concentration issues and neck problems in endurance racing. I have been extremely lucky. My demeanor is calm and I don’t take chances. Concentration was never my problem and, although you got to the point sometimes where you were counting the laps, thinking “I can’t do much more of this,” I never really had a problem with focus or neck cramps, even though I am very tall. I threw up once at Nürburgring because my helmet was hitting the chassis; the seat had come loose and was vibrating violently, and it jarred my head. But that was unusual. So, no major accidents? Oh no! I didn’t say that. I’ve had a few spills. The worst was probably 1990 at Daytona driving a Porsche 962 owned by Giampiero Moretti. It was the first time Misti, my second and current wife, had come to watch me race, and she was wearing a yellow suit, like a race marshal. I remember seeing her as I came out of a chicane and went to the top of the wall. After five laps of waving at her, she disappeared and at that moment I blew a tire. I was at the top of the bank and went up in the air, coasting through the sky . . . floating . . . doing 190 mph. I could see the stars and hear the engine just ticking over. It seemed to last forever and was all rather surreal. Then I hit the ground and was flying along the tarmac upside down. The road tore through the roof and part of my helmet. Then, it all stopped. Nothing but the thrumming of the engine and the glug, glug, glug of dripping
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Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance Insider
Derek Bell, now at home in Florida, is surrounded by mementos and fond memories.
fuel—I had just refueled! I could smell the gas, and I couldn’t get out. I turned off the engine to stop the fuel pump, and then I hit the fire extinguisher. Big mistake! I passed out as the oxygen was sucked out of the cockpit. It took emergency services two minutes and 40 seconds to get to me, and next thing I know they have the car on its side and are dragging me out. I was fine but was taken to hospital. Misti was in the tunnel when she heard the announcement that my car was in an accident. She went to the hospital but they wouldn’t let her in because we weren’t married yet. Eventually, I walked out and she was standing outside the hospital door. Poor lass! I was lucky. Very, very lucky. After a life lived on high adrenaline what do you do now for kicks? I play tennis, hang out with the grandkids, and take my lovely wife for dinner in the boat we have moored off the dock. Honestly, I don’t need the adrenaline buzz . . . although, having said that, the moment I sit in a race car, it’s incredible—the years melt away, and all of a sudden I’m 34 again, I’m at Le Mans . . . and I want to drive!
