TRINIDAD TEAM TIGERS
MP3
http://www.refinedbyfire.ca/MP3/06%20Tea... I became interested in auto racing and began to race professionally. This was an exciting part of my life not only because I enjoyed driving but also because the danger and speed of a fast car gave me a feeling of well being. Auto racing in Trinidad was not new, but it had recently become an organized sport thanks to Charlie Moore, a Canadian from Calgary, who worked at the TV station. Drivers from Trinidad would travel to Guyana to race there, because racing was still a novelty, everybody was interested. In those days, before independence, Guyana was a country of friendly and beautiful people. The parties and socializing were even more exciting than the actual race.
The previous racing season I had trouble with my direct drive copper clutch but with the defect corrected, I hoped to do well. In my last race meet before immigrating to Canada, I placed second in a race described as, "The most exciting race of the day." That contest had been a duel between Bill Blair and me. Bill's mini-cooper was faster than my Holbay Cortina was, but I out drove and overtook Bill on every turn. Because his car was faster he overtook me on every straightaway. On the last lap, just before the straight stretch, I lined up for the apex and power slid sideways, passing Bill and obtaining a good lead. I just about put my foot through the floorboards but, as we approached the flag, Bill nipped me by the length of his little hood.
With adrenaline running through every fiber of my body, and with the encouragement of my racing buddies, I decided to enter the next race, which was an even more advanced class. Racers were driving Jaguars and Lotus Elans. Still high from the contest with Bill, I somehow got out in front and decided to maintain the lead at all costs. A good driver comes out of the corner faster than he goes into it. This allows him to gain more time on the straightaway.
Well, I came out of the gooseneck so fast that I ran out of road. My left wheels went over the 6-inch high edge of the asphalt. My brain scrambled to find a solution to this predicament.
I decided to hold that position for a few more yards fearing that if my wheel hooked onto the asphalt, the car would overturn. Suddenly, I made a break to get back onto the track. I succeeded but a moment later, the steering wheel pulled out of my hand. I knew that this could mean only one thing: a blown tire. I was thrown into the air then heard the crunching sound of the car's roof hitting the asphalt.
A voice deep inside me said, "Fold your arms and make yourself into a ball." As I did so, I visualized my hands being crushed. For a moment, I seemed to be in the seat then in the roof of the car as it hit the asphalt. The crash seemed endless, although it was probably only a matter of moments.
When my car came to rest, despite my safety belt, I found myself in the back seat. My only injury was a gash in my rear end where a glass splinter had penetrated. My immediate thought was to climb back into the driver's seat and get back into the race. A Trinidadian spectator approached me and asked, "What do you think you're doing?" I replied, "I'm getting back in the race." "Would you take a look at your car?" he asked. "All your wheels are broken." Dazed and in shock, I waited for the ambulance.
Although I felt like a hero, my uninsured racing car which I had planned to sell before leaving for Canada, was a major part of my life savings and was now gone.