My time with the BMC competitions department saw me racing the big Austin Healeys, and later racing at Le Mans in an MG. The Mini Cooper and Mini Cooper S came along and they became world beaters in every racing and rallying competition category they entered. This was due to it being so small and compact and having a transverse engine over the front driving wheels, so it was perfectly balanced.
The concept of front-wheel drive led to a completely different driving style; it wasn’t so bad for the “Nancy boys” who raced them on nice smooth tarmac tracks. On the other hand, for those of us who drove on all types of terrain—especially downhill on loose or slippery surfaces—it was a far more dangerous proposition. I would describe rallying as being similar to powder skiing in a car! Even a Citroen 2CV downhill is faster than any Porsche; believe me.
Obviously, I’m most remembered for winning the 1964 Monte Carlo rally with Henry Liddon in the now-famous Mini Cooper S, 33 EJB. However, at the time, not only did we surprise ourselves by winning the event, we surprised the world, too. The publicity we attracted was different to that we experience today. News of our victory wasn’t confined to the motoring press; it made headlines on the front pages of the national press. We were British drivers, in a British car, flying the flag for the British car industry and exports. We were competing against other teams from all over the world, France, Germany, America, etc., who were trying to do the same for their own country. Nowadays, it all comes under the heading of motor sport. Henry and I became almost “pop stars”; we got a telegram from the Beatles and were able to have the best seats in any restaurant.
Our victory wasn’t realized until a few hours after the event had finished; it was a case of all the officials looking at the times of each competitor and working out the math of who had won. It was an early morning call I received, something like 4:00 a.m., when a journalist had caught a sneak preview of the result sheets and we were at the top. The worst part of the rally was the start: we started in Minsk. Russia was a difficult place to get in and out of in those days; it was bloody cold, too—40 degrees below freezing! The car was tested to the ultimate and withstood everything it was challenged with—a true testament to its designer, Sir Alec Isigonis. The survival and ultimate victory in such diverse conditions show how great a racecar our little Mini Cooper S was.
Isigonis built this truly remarkable car which was suitable for a district nurse and leant itself to all sorts of derivatives, including a competition car with development by the Cooper Car Company. As I’ve said, it became a world beater, and an icon. Commercially, if one visited a mansion and saw a Mini parked outside, it could belong to either the lord of the manner or the cook.
As told to Mike Jiggle
