A walk in the park

Anthony Reid takes the plucky Chevron through the chicane.

Since we got our beloved basset hound I’ve seen a lot of parks; there isn’t a green space in Liverpool that I don’t know like the back of my hand. While I’m in the Wavertree Mystery or Allerton Towers everyday, it’s been a lot longer since I’ve been to my favourite park – Oulton Park. My parents and I remedied that yesterday with our first trip in nine years as a threesome to the glorious Cheshire track.  Oulton has been likened to the Nordschleife, it’s crests, bumps and tree-lined straights are largely unchanged since Stirling Moss was racing Grand Prix machinery here in the Gold Cup – and this living slice of history is less than 45 minutes away from my house, which is always a bonus.  

It has to be said that Jonathan Palmer’s MSV have done a great job with their portfolio of circuits. While Donington still looks rough around the edges and Silverstone surrenders its spirit to the needs of F1, the MSV quartet of Oulton, Brands, Snetterton and Cadwell have all kept the changes on the tarmac to a minimum while ensuring that off-track things are nearly as slick and professional as the billion-dollar state-sponsored race venues of the new world. There were few queues on the way in, a lovely restaurant to enjoy, a tidy pitlane to wander round and toilets that were clean as the proverbial whistle. These things may not sound important if you are viewing on TV, but getting these little things right keeps the punters coming back to the track. Visitor numbers for the F3 and GTs looked as healthy as I’ve ever seen them, while the BTCC regularly has its biggest crowd of the year at Oulton.

After a very slow stroll through the car park (Astons, Lambos, Ferraris, a convincing Porsche 911 RSR replica and a mint-condition 1969 Alfa GTV are quite a distraction) we elected to park our chairs at Cascades where we had a great view from the run out of the first corner all the way to the fearsome Island Bend. You then glimpse the cars in the trees as they climb the hill before they brake hard into the Knickerbrook chicane before hammering out of sight towards Druids. It’s the best view you can get here, we could see roughly two-thirds of the venue while grazing on my Mum’s tasty picnic.

After a shameful lapse in attending live racing we were struck immediately by how impressive even a humble Formula Ford is. When the British GT championship runners burbled, popped and banged into life we were back in petrolhead heaven. GT racing surely has the finest and most varied soundtrack of any kind of modern motorsport. From the near silence of the new Lotus Evoras to the shrill sound of a Ferrari 458 or the rattling flat six of the ever-present 911, the GTs are as much an audio pleasure as they are a visual one. As for the Jones twins’ brutal Mercedes SLS, that sounded like the Devil farting!

Into the Knickerbrook chicane it was the SLS that provided the most action. In race one the Jones’ were on the back-foot as the 911s of the brilliant Bridgman and Westbrook monstered them for third, while in race two the Mercedes was back on the attack. But the car that got the most cheers was the plucky little Chevron of Anthony Reid and Jordan Whitt. It was often on the tail of the Speedworks Corvette or the hordes of Ferrari F430s, the little yellow bullet darting across the kerbs like no other. The Cheshire-based marque was once famous for huge cars, but this little whipper-snapper was quite the opposite – a Dinky car by comparison.

It was 2010 champions Trackspeed with their garish Porsche driven by Ashburn and Westbrook that took one race, while the other fell to the fantastic Ferrari 458 of Bateman and Lyons. I’m chuffed we got to see Westbrook at his best, he’s so entertaining in any GT car, especially a 911. It was also a pleasure to see the exquisite 458 take what must rank as one of its first victories anywhere, I suspect these sleek machines will become a racing staple for the rest of the decade.

The F3 races weren’t quite so entertaining, especially after watching the magic Monza races on youtube. Come to think of it, I don’t know when F3 at Oulton last produced a truly memorable race, I much prefer watching them at Donington or Silverstone. It’s amazing how little has changed in that category over the years, surely it’s time for a re-think of F3?

We were rooting for Mclaren-affiliated Kevin ‘Kev’ Magnussen, our excuse for such blatant favouritism was that we had a soft spot for his Dad after meeting him just before the start of his record-breaking F3 season back in 1994. Surely Jan couldn’t possibly have a child in F3 already? It’s enough to make you feel old. Sadly Kev was beset by problems, he won’t be beating his father’s records this year especially with the brilliant Brazilians Nasr and Foresti looking so good. Felipe Nasr certainly looks capable of going all the way, just imagine what dear old Murray would make of Felipe Massa and Felipe Nasr racing together! It would be even more of a tongue-twister than Martin Brundle and Mark Blundell…

The Formula Ford races were good, although nowhere near as exciting as the championship’s opening encounters at Silverstone earlier in the month. The entertaining Volkswagen Cup was also on the bill, but I was disappointed that there were no vans racing – it’s certainly the only championship I find myself saying that about! However, there was a Golf liveried as a cop car, a Beetle dressed up as Herbie and a rogue Seat on the grid, so the racing wasn’t totally sane. The lead battle was a cracker in the second VW encounter where the Walker family took charge in their Golfs in a four-way dice for first.

The next day we were pink with sunburn but it was all well worth it. If you haven’t been to Oulton Park you really must go. It’s a place where you don’t need the most exciting racing to amuse you, it’s just such a pleasure to see the cars navigating their way around a proper racing venue steeped in heritage. At the weekend it’s the thrilling British Superbikes, although I reckon it will be the Gold Cup in August when I can next find the time and money to take the short trip to this little gem of a track. Meanwhile I’ll content myself with a walk in the park this afternoon, there’ll be no horsepower but there will be a speedy dog to keep me amused.

Tarquini by a nose, Foresti by a mile

The World Touring Car Championship looks a little forlorn at the moment. It’s chock-a-block with privateers that struggle to keep up with the RML Chevrolet power-house and it seemed that nobody other than Huff, Menu or reigning champion Yvan Muller would ever score a win. But in race two at Zolder Gabriele Tarquini muscled his way to a narrow victory in my race of the week.

The benefit that the Seat star gained from the reversed grid was far outweighed by the disadvantage of not being in a blue Chevrolet, so the Italian stalwart made sure his car was wide and wild. The speedy race one winner Rob Huff was brave enough to try to pass Gabriele, but the Italian defended hard and the resulting contact saw Huffy limping home. I’m not usually one for strong-arm tactics, but nobody can expect to beat the Chevy team in 2011 unless they push things to the limit or the blue cars take themselves out, as nearly happened in race one.

My not-very-coveted racer of the week award goes to Lucas Foresti for his dominant display around the leafy Oulton Park in round four of British F3. The Fortec Mercedes pilot notched up a first win for a non-Carlin car in 2011 as he tamed the gorgeous Cheshire track, taking the lap record along the way. By the end of the half an hour of racing he had a staggering 18 second lead over Felipe Nasr, his compatriot who is the favourite for the title.

While both Brazilians gave best to Riki Christodoulou in race two, it was Nasr who won the third race of the weekend from Foresti. Unlike Foresti, Nasr struggled to open up much of a gap over his rival despite the race being ten minutes longer than the earlier encounters. Although Felipe Nasr may well end up confusing the F1 commentators in the future, Foresti was the driver who appeared to truly master the majestic Oulton Park from where I was sitting. The last time I attended such a dominant F3 performance at Oulton was from one Jenson Button; you have to be packing talent to be able to humiliate your rivals around this most traditional of tracks.

Gerry Marshall – man and myth

Today is the anniversary of the passing of a giant of British motorsport, the only thing taller than this man are the tales he inspired. Gerry Marshall won a record 625 races between 1964 and 2004 becoming a near-mythic racing character long before he left us for the great racetrack in the sky while at the wheel of an IROC Camaro at Silverstone on April 21st 2005. Ordinarily you would describe his passing from natural causes as peaceful, but I imagine that the cockpit of a V8 muscle car is anything but serene, although it would be accurate to say he went doing what he loved best, so he was certainly at peace in that regard.

My folks have always been partial to sport of the automotive variety, they recently shared this timely little glimpse into another era with me. Back when Gerry was hauling Vauxhalls around the great circuits of Britain my parents were fortunate enough to enjoy his company and his insights into top level saloon and sportscar racing. The year was 1976, but even in the time of Sheens and Hunts Gerry Marshall was unique. A man who was as big and burly as the cars he tamed, you could say that in the mid-1970s he was at his peak, but truth be told he was at his peak for 40 years. When I watched him race TVRs and Aston Martins in the 1990s it was the same supreme talent that my parents had witnessed in Vauxhalls and Minis when I was merely an apple in their eyes. The cars still danced to his tune and Gerry still looked and behaved like the antithesis of the modern sportsman, something he was loved for.

Gerry Marshall drove more cars than even he could care to remember, but the image that most readily comes to mind is of him manning the controls of a beastly Vauxhall such as the fire-breathing Firenza. My Mum was working for a Vauxhall dealership at the time and this consummate ambassador for the sport was very much the face of the marque during the 1970s. While visiting the garage he regaled them with stories from the pits and paddocks of the country, all delivered in his booming voice that always commanded attention. They cared to ask how he was beating all the young whipper-snappers coming up through the ranks, the answer was certainly not the full story, but it was as good an illustration of the times as it gets.

Before a race Gerry said he would invite some of the youngsters out for a drink with him so he could impart a little knowledge and get to know his soon to be vanquished competition. He got the rounds in while insisting that he always drinks a bit on race weekend and it never slows him down. The learner drivers presumably went against their instincts and thought that if Gerry did it, they all could. Come race day all the youngsters were nursing hangovers while Gerry was rested, well and prepared for a spot of opposite locking. Gerry Marshall was not your average racer; unlike all the other jockeys he was as big and burly as the cars he wrestled around the track and he could take his ale. It certainly seems as wise a strategy as anything Ross Brawn could come up with!

At the top of the page you can watch some magic footage from the custodians of British racing history at Duke Video. It’s a taster of what Gerry Marshall was all about as he takes you for a ride with him around Oulton Park. The man himself is your guide, sounding laid back on the commentary but driving with aplomb. The Vauxhall Firenza bucks and leans on its soft suspension, gliding high over the crests and dips of Cheshire’s mini-Nurburgring, every slide is caught by his outstretched arms almost before they’ve happened. This is Marshall at his best – there is no corner on the British motorsport calendar that he didn’t know as well as his own driveway and he wasn’t afraid to push on every lap. Seeing him behind the wheel of his beloved ‘Baby Bertha’, the car that came to define him, is an evocative and sorely missed sight for any British petrol-head.

If you want to read an awful lot more about this legendary character then take a look at Only Here For The Beer, his biography from 1978, available here on Amazon. The Marshall family also keep a very informative website running in the big man’s memory, the least you should do today is stop by www.gerrymarshall.com to read a little about his astounding career.