Colin Chapman on Jim Clark - From Motor Racing October 1965

My apologies to John Blunsden for originally incorrectly attributing this article.

 John Blunsden. Everyone acknowledges that Jim is a great racing driver, but how do you rate him as a team man?

Colin. Very highly, and for this reason, Jim will always have a real go, and give his very best. In all the time I have known him. I have seen him have remarkably few off days. Now this is a tremendous morale booster for the team as a whole. The mechanics will work really hard preparing the cars when they know that the man in the cockpit is going to make the most of what they give film. It means that all the hard work is converted into race-winning potential.

JB. Are there any conditions under which Jim finds it more difficult to produce his best term,'

Colin. Yes, when he is right on top. I think he feels the strain more when he's expected to win. and he's sitting tip there ready to be shot at. I thought this would happen when he won his first world championship, in 1963, and sure enough, he had a most difficult time early in 1964. I have the feeling that he might have to go through another tricky period nom that he has won the title again. Everyone will be expecting him to win, just when he has last the target to attack, namely the championship. Now that the title is his, he's going to miss the fight for it.

JB. Do you think he's reached the point where he's stopped learning?

Colin. Definitely not, he's getting better all the time. When he won his first title, people were hailing him as one of the `greats', but I felt then, `Just you wait. He's only 27 years old, and he's going to get better all the time.' He's proved it already during the last two years, and believe me, he's going to go on getting better, too.

JB. He feels that he is not a particularly good test driver. Would you agree with this?

Colin. Not really. In some respects I think he is very good. For example, he is a very good trouble-shooter. He can tell me exactly what is wrong, and can get the optimum mechanical performance out of carburation, brakes, gearbox, and so on. If he has a fault as a test driver, it is that he is too inclined to adapt his driving to suit the imperfect characteristics of his car. Then, he brings into use his great natural skill, and perhaps in the end he can get the car round faster than he might have expected even if the car had been ideally set up. This ability to `live with' a racing car is a wonderful talent in the race, but it can be a bit of a nuisance at times during a session of chassis testing.

JB. How does Jim get on with the mechanics?

Colin. I would say better than most drivers. He has a good personal relationship with them, and even when things go badly wrong he's far more likely to let me have it rather than moan to the mechanics!

JB. Naturally, every driver likes to win, but would you say that Jim sometimes finds it a bit difficult to accept defeat?

Colin. Naturally, any driver must feel a certain disappointment if he has been beaten, but in Jim's case it depends upon why he was beaten. If he feels that he has been let down by the car or by a component of it, and that this has robbed him of a victory, he'll feel a little low for a few minutes. But it will only be for a few minutes-say, ten at the most. By that time he'll have shrugged it off, and will be back to his usual cheerful self.

JB. Now what about the minutes before a race? Does he get a bit of a twitch on?

Colin. Oh yes, but he is extremely good at disguising it. Don't be misled by that very calm looking expression on the starting grid. Deep down he's pretty tensed up. If he wasn't, he probably wouldn't make such meteoric starts!

JB. How is it that Jim can put in four or five fantastically quick ones right from the fall of the flag?

Colin. This, of course, is one of the big things about Jim. He has tremendous powers of concentration, and he can make a supreme effort right from the word `Go'. But for the rest of the race he is for the most part driving with a little bit in hand. I can honestly say that I have rarely seen Jim drive flat-out for more than about five laps at a time in a GP. The fact that he can do so right at the start is, of course, a big advantage, because it takes him clear of the drivers who take a little time to settle down.

JB. This theory that Jim dislikes driving in traffic -fact or myth?

Colin. Complete myth. The thing is he rarely has to. Either he has the ability to get out in front right away, or soon work his way up there, or else his car is not competitive, in which case there is little point in dicing it. For example, if two cars prove to be very evenly matched you can dice it out all through the race, first one leading and towing the other, and then the other taking over and doing the towing. But at the end of it all, the same two cars are in the same relative positions. In other words, all the dicing and scrapping has achieved absolutely nothing (except perhaps given the crowd something to shout about). In a case like that, Jim will do the sensible thing, and sit on the other chap's tail and worry him. Sooner or later he'll probably make a mistake under pressure, and Jim will be past, or else, if the car is still there at the end, Jim will save his overtaking manoeuvre until the final lap. It's as simple as that.

JB. And what about Jim in the rain?

Colin. Well, need you ask? This is what really shows him up against the others. His extreme sensitivity comes out when conditions are bad, and he has put up some brilliant performances in the wet, and not all of them have been appreciated. For example, you may remember that day at Nurburgring, in 1962, when he inadvertently switched off his fuel on the start line, and got away last. A thing was made of the tremendous dice between Graham Hill, John Surtees and Dan Gurney for the lead, but do you know Jim was taking 6 seconds a lap off them and working his way past the slower cars? In the end, even he frightened himself, and rather than risk crunching the car he decided to ease up and settle for his fourth place. But had he maintained his earlier pace, and if he had been able to get past them, he would have won the race, after setting off last. That, to my mind, was a really great drive, which didn't get the credit it deserved.

JB. Jim seems to do a great deal of racing. Do you sometimes send him to meetings he would prefer not to attend?

Colin. He does a lot of racing, yes, but this is because he wants to. Mind you, he is inclined to alter his mind quite a lot, and you may find that he will be racing somewhere when, a few months before, he had said that he definitely wasn't interested. For example, right now he says that he doesn't want to do the Tasman series, and if he sticks to this, then we'll not encourage him, but send someone else. But I wouldn't be a bit surprised to hear that he had changed his mind!

JB. Do you ever find yourself talking him into going anywhere?

Colin. I suppose sometimes I do, in so far as occasionally I can detect that he hasn't a lot of enthusiasm for a particular race. Then, I'll probably waken up his interest in it until in the end he's all for it. But if he still prefers not to go, then he doesn't go. But as I said, Jim likes his racing, and usually he doesn't need much talking into it!

JB. Jim says you have a wonderful understanding with him during the race with regard to pit signals. But do you get any sort of return messages from him?

Colin. No. A long time ago we gave up giving signals from the car to the pits, because you're telling the opposition as much as you're telling your own pit, and that's crazy. After all, what's the point in signalling `I'm running out of brakes' when there's nothing we can do about it in the pits, and the only reaction will be a signal to the chap behind from his pit saying, 'Clark brakes', which will spur him on to a bigger effort. But though I get no signals from him, I can usually sense when Jim is in some sort of trouble; it's something about the way he sits in the cockpit, I think, but whatever it is, I can normally tell when something's up.

JB. Do you try to influence his race in any way from the pits?

Colin. Influence, perhaps. Dictate, never. I make a point of providing him with some information on every lap so that he has the clearest possible picture of the race as a whole. Then it's up to him to make the decisions. For example, if his lap times were falling for no apparent reason, I wouldn't dream of asking him to speed up, but I might just give him a lap time, which he can then interpret as he thinks best. Maybe the figure is satisfactory for the condition of the car, or on the other hand this may tell him that he's taking it just a little bit too easy. But it is Jim who makes the decision whether or not he should alter his speed, not me.

JB. Now how about timekeeping of the other sort? Would you say Jim is a reliable sort of chap from the point of view of punctuality?

Colin. Reliable, yes, in so far as I always know that he will present himself on time for a test session, or in good time for practice or the race. If he happens to be late, there will be a very good reason for it. But I would not go so far as to say that he is obsessed with the need for punctuality, and he does tend sometimes to be a bit late arriving when he has to meet top brass at social functions. I think that this is because deep down he just doesn't enjoy these affairs, and he likes to put off the evil hour to the last possible moment!

JB. But he is a lot less shy than he used to be, surely?

Colin. Yes, I think he probably is, although I don't think he'll ever really enjoy the spotlight of publicity for its own sake. At the same time, he behaves extremely well at social functions, and even at a dreary affair he will make a point of going around shaking hands with all his hosts before leaving, whereas I must admit my own inclination will be to sidle out quietly without being noticed! This is Jim's natural politeness coming out.

JB. You spend a lot of time together. Do you find Jim a good companion?

Colin. Yes, we are good friends, and we get on well together. I think he is a nervous passenger on the road, but I don't know that I frighten him, and in any case these days he seems to be doing most of the driving (which doesn't make me nervous!) while I do the chauffeuring when we're flying. I wouldn't say that Jim actually creates much humour-you could hardly call him a ball of fire-but he can certainly keep his end up in repartee and has a good sense of humour.

JB. Would you say he finds it easy to relax?

Colin. Certainly I would, and I think at times that he would like a bit more opportunity for doing so. Recently we spent an enjoyable three days' holiday down in Spain, and I think we managed to get through without discussing motor racing once!

JB. Everyone has his faults or weaknesses. Have you noticed any applicable to Jim'

Colin. Well, he bites his nails. if that's what you mean! And he has one rather surprising tendency for someone who is called upon to make split-second decisions. In his private life he just can't make up his mind about things. I don't mean necessarily really big decisions, but the little everyday things, like what to choose from a menu. or whether or not to buy something.

JB. Finally. would you say that Jim has any pet hates?

Colin. Yes. he has. He has a complete and utter distaste for the Press! This may sound surprising, but in fact it isn't really. In the first place, Jim races because he loves it. Naturally, he likes making a lot of money out of it too, but to him it is a sport, not a business. And this means that he couldn't care less about publicity. If he had his way, at the end of a meeting he would creep away into obscurity until it was time for the next race. He's not interested in the glamour or the frills. Secondly, there's been a terrible amount of rubbish written about him by the Press, and he resents this, especially as the worst stuff seems to be churned out by those who invade his private life the most. You've no idea how he gets hounded. He used to complain because so many inaccuracies were printed about his racing, and so he made a real effort to talk to the Press and give them the facts. But still the distortions appear, and frankly he holds the Press generally in pretty low regard. In a way I can understand his feelings. I'll tell you one thing. If you want to see Jim explode, just listen to a so-called professional journalist asking him a completely asinine and irrelevant question, and wail for the reaction. It can be quite impressive! Oh, by the way, I think Motor RACING and some of your contemporaries are exempted from Jim's list of 'undesirable fiction'!