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Home > Junk Male > February 2012 > James Hunt: A Junk Male Tribute (Part 1)

James Hunt: A Junk Male Tribute (Part 1)


Even people who aren’t fans of Formula 1, could probably tell you a great deal about the 1976 Grand Prix season. The titanic battle between Hunt and Lauda – to secure the World Championship, could not have been scripted better by Hollywood – it was that sensational. 


In fact, I’m starting to read more and more reports and online blogs, intimating that famous film director, Ron Howard (ex-‘Happy Days’ actor Richie Cunningham), is in serious negotiation to actually make a film about the epic Hunt/Lauda battle. I sincerely hope that Bernie Ecclestone doesn’t scupper the deal by making ludicrously onerous financial demands, because I’d just love to see Fonzie, Chachi, Ralph Malph and Potsie running around as the McLaren pit-crew… but I digress.


Isn’t it stunning that people (especially in the UK), who had no particular interest in Formula 1, could probably recall a great deal of that season? Doesn’t it demonstrate just how much of a spectacle F1 used to be, when even non-Formula 1 fans were glued to their TV sets – and could still recall events from a motor race that happened over 35 years ago? I love Formula 1 – and always have done – but I still couldn’t tell you who won the last F1 race. Actually, it was probably Sebastian Vettel. 


The 1976 season had every ingredient you could possibly wish for – and a great many that you wouldn’t have been able to invent. It was a classic battle between the fiery, reckless, tempestuous but dashing English public schoolboy; versus the Teutonic efficiency and calculating cool of the canny German, Niki Lauda. 


The cars looked like a ‘proper Grand Prix car’ should: huge dragster tyres to the rear – and every car looked distinct and unique, as rules were less prescriptive in that era, and designers were given a freer reign in interpreting – and stretching the rule-book. Additionally, without the advanced aerodynamic appendages that today’s F1 cars wear, cars of the 1970’s were still drifting and sliding around on the very limits of adhesion – just like testosterone-filled Go-Karts. The cockpits were still relatively open, and you could see the drivers’ arms frantically sawing at the steering wheel, as they fought to catch their cars drifting through corners. There was a manual gear shift, and the drivers changed up a gear – not by a complex system of dashboard lights that spoon-fed them – but by nothing more advanced than their own hearing and right hand: When they sensed the revs were at the right limit, they slammed up a cog. If they missed a gear, it was likely to result in a few pistons being thrown clear through the engine casings of their 550bhp Cosworth DFV’s. 


Upon losing a few litres of body-fluid during the course of a gruelling two-and-a-half hour race, drivers such as James Hunt and Keke Rosberg would gun their machines into the pit lane, throw their crash helmets towards the pit crew, and light a cigarette before they’d even unhooked their seat belts. With scant regard to the notion of being surrounded by thousands of litres of high-octane fuel, they’d nonchalantly strike a Swan Vestas match on the stubble of their chin, and suck hungrily on a Marlboro cigarette. 


Errant reporters valiantly attempting to catch an après-race interview with drivers, had to be swift in their endeavours, for any driver worth his salt in this era, having hopped out of the car, would have one beady eye on the nearest beer, and another eye on the nearest willing female. These were heady days indeed, and terribly intoxicating to a small boy watching these gladiators.


To be continued…


James Hunt / Hesketh Racing ‘Jolly Horny’ T-Shirt available here.

by Junk Male on February 28, 2012