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Visceral, enjoyable, emotional… musical? A late shoe horn into a very cute 1957 Type 43 Cooper race car around the breath taking Spa Francorchamps saw my driver coaching trip quickly escalate into a pre 66 Grand Prix racing trip and the very game little Cooper stimulated all the emotions above in abundance.
The stimulating Cooper in question wears it’s distinctive light blue and white striped paint work with pride being the adopted colours of period driver Lance Reventlow, a British born, American entrepreneur, racing driver and heir to the huge Woolworth store’s fortune. A fine gentleman race driver by all accounts that developed his own front engine Scarab Formula One design that supported the same colour scheme as his early Cooper. Alas although achieving some sports car success in America his Formula One venture ground to a halt due to poor timing as Formula One design saw a seismic change as the grumbling engine slid from where the driver looked around, over or down the side of it, to having to glance in the mirrors to see if it was still there. Yes front engined Formula One cars found their page in the history books. Should have, could have, would have? Looking at the success of the Scarab Formula One front engine designs piloted by some capable drivers in current Historic races may be Lance Reventlow’s Formula One aspirations, Should have, could have or would have seen some success had they lived in a different time zone.
Lance, a keen and very capable pilot sadly met his demise in 1972 not on a distant race track but in a plane whilst scouting for a Ski resort. Another young in-experienced pilot was flying at the time and ended up flying up a dead end canyon and the plane stalled whilst attempting an exit manoeuvre. Lance had crammed a lot into his short 36 year life.
Now I know a driver should not have a favourite circuit but I do and Spa Francorchamps ticks all the boxes for me. Steeped in motorsport history both distant and near I find the atmosphere envelopes me and transports me back to a 1960’s or 70’s race meeting vibe but I suppose if I am honest with myself, seen through rose coloured glasses. Spa does have a reputation for being a driver breaker and many a driver have paid the ultimate price for the lure of finding the adhesive limit of their mechanical steeds. Despite its reputation I do get a buzz in whatever car I guide around this circuit, the elevation changes, expansive array of corners, straights, bumps and cambers always throws up a challenge and that’s before a bit weather is thrown into the mix
This particular drive popped out of no-where for me as the owner who I was coaching in the Cooper suddenly could not make the trip to Spa and so my first was call I took upon arrival was answered, yes… after I was asked if I could drive it. And so I was whipped back not to the 70’s or 60’s but to the 50’s, 1957 to be precise.
The robust little 1500 cc Coventry Climax single cam engine in the Cooper crackles and pops as it gently develops a temperature. An engine and gear box saving locking system demands the clutch is engaged firmly and fully for any gear to be engaged whilst stationary or on the move. Accelerating out of the tight pit lane exit and rushing down towards Eau Rouge the Cooper excites your senses ensuring that you feel the car through out your body. The spacious cockpit soon has the wind squalling around you, tugging at the sleeves of your race overalls. The cars natural vibrations from the under passing tarmac and all its whirling mechanicals are transmitted through the sturdy pedals and then through the very soles of your thin leather race boots. A cacophony of sound from the straight four engine shouts down the straight through exhaust which then pops and bangs as I lift off the throttle, a tiny hint of un-used fuel finding an ignition source inside the sizzling hot exhaust….Boy this feels so good.
A large gear lever by race car standards takes instructions very well and what looks like its going to be an agricultural, delayed wait whilst another gear is found turns out to be quite the opposite. As long the clutch is not used half-heartedly and with a blip of the throttle to help with the whirling synchronising on the down changes the next gear is found quickly, accurately and with out a fuss. Superb 1957 engineering.
The big brake after the flat out, top gear, terminal speed run up Kemmel straight again puts a huge smile on my face. The drum brakes are predictive and firm and have no problem hauling the light weight Cooper to an acceptable turn in speed. The next reasonably firm brake arrives at the entry to what I still call Bruxelles One..( Note to self must look up all the new corner names) The drum brakes achilles heal now just starts to show it self via a slightly longer brake pedal and a slight loss of sharpness but they still the do job needed. I am confident that by the time I will be asking for all of their attention again into the bus stop after yet a another flat out, overall flapping blast, the drums will have regained their composure and will be up to the task in hand. All race cars are engaging but you can not help but smile when engaging with this one. An emotional connection is un-avoidable.
I always say that speed is relative to what ever motoring muse you find your self in. 150 MPH in a slick shod, aero shod race car seems almost sedate (until something goes wrong) Where as 68 mph in a track prepared Citroen 2 CV can feel positively suicidal. Speed in this Cooper sits somewhere in the middle. The grip to power ratio seems to be so well balanced. As you tip the beautifully balanced car into yes another exciting, challenging corner, your arms suddenly resemble those of a music making violinist as you saw at the wheel in effort to keep up your minimum speed whilst trying to keep the Cooper facing the way it should be going. Visceral, enjoyable, emotional… musical? Oh yes!
I love Spa, I love driving and I loved driving this little historic Cooper.
As my weary head made contact with pillow that night a slight smile creased my lips as my mind relived my Cooper experience and as my thoughts started to blur into sleep mode I started to dream of racing in period with my white shirt sleeves flapping in the turbulent hot air whipping around the blue Cooper nose and into the open cockpit as I dash around the 1957 daunting version of the Spa Francorchamps Circuit! Sweet dreams.
