How an F1 mechanics’ reunion recalled stories of working practices that would now send HR into meltdown

The FIA president recently spoke some sense (no smart remarks from the back of the room, please) when discussing the Formula 1 calendar. He expressed concern over the physical and mental toll created by the expanding number of grands prix as F1 puts revenue before welfare (that last bit was my take – so to speak).

The race track curfew goes some way towards ameliorating the relentless shuttle between hotel and paddock, with heaving airports to be dealt with at either end. But it’s not how racing used to be. Is that a good thing? Depends on who you talk to.

The Grand Prix Trust recently held a lively lunch at Silverstone. Established by Sir Jackie Stewart in 1987 to look after mechanics who fall on hard times, the Trust has expanded its horizons under the stewardship of Martin Brundle and his committee to help the youth of today take up the increasingly diverse opportunities in our wonderful sport. 

But the primary purpose of the gathering was to reunite F1’s old hands. The animated buzz in the vast room would have drowned out a current F1 power unit on full noise (battery permitting, of course). It was a suitable moment to compare the life of F1 mechanics today with seasons gone by, and reflect on times when working through at least one night (doing an ‘all-nighter’) was an unspoken badge of honour. 

In the 1980s, for example, when fuel tank size was gradually reduced from 220 litres to a parsimonious 150, cramming in every last drop of petrol was critical. This would usually be the final act on a Saturday night. It would also be the first time the bag tank had been filled to maximum capacity – whereupon it would often spring a leak.

That meant laboriously removing the engine once more to access the fuel tank directly behind the cockpit. The next vital task would be nominating a runner to fetch a takeaway from the nearest McDonald’s.

You would be forgiven for believing that today’s overcrowded calendar and its associated stress was never an issue back in the day when the season stretched to all of 10 races, ranging lazily from May to December. But think again. 

In 1963, they somehow managed to have the Dutch and French GPs a week apart. The Dutch race was the third GP of the year, which also happened to be the Brabham team’s first full season of F1 racing. The three mechanics, under the pragmatic technical leadership of Jack himself, had been flat-out building a second 1963 chassis for Brabham to race alongside the first BT7 allocated to Dan Gurney.

An epic saga followed the failure of Gurney’s engine at Zandvoort in 1963

Photo by: LAT/Getty Images

When they arrived at Zandvoort late on Thursday, it would be the mechanics’ first night in bed since the previous Sunday. They would need their sleep. 

Seconds after starting the Coventry Climax in Gurney’s car the following morning, a jackshaft bearing seized and rendered the V8 unusable. An urgent phone call to England ascertained that a new engine could be completed if the Coventry Climax personnel worked all day Friday and into the night.

Brabham team manager Phil Kerr was dispatched to Coventry, leaving the engine builder at 1.00am with the new V8 – red hot following a last-minute dyno test – in the boot of his Ford Zodiac. After snatching a few hours’ sleep at home, Kerr set off for Dover, eventually arriving at the track at 6.30pm on Saturday. (Brabham and Gurney, meanwhile, had shared Jack’s car to qualify fourth and 14th respectively.) 

With an engine that had yet to be run in, and driving a car he had not set up, Gurney showed his class by coming through the field to finish second. At the other end of the scale, Brabham left the road and cracked the chassis while trying to make up time following a pitstop to repair a throttle return-spring.

Brabham team manager Phil Kerr was dispatched to Coventry, leaving the engine builder at 1.00am with the new V8 – red hot following a last-minute dyno test – in the boot of his Ford Zodiac

With much work to be done, it was decided to make an unscheduled return to base in Surrey with Gurney, no less, sharing the wheel of the transporter. (Bear in mind, this was before motorways and trucks with massage seats and digital cockpits.) They arrived at Calais at 5.00am – having already discovered there was no boat available when they reached Ostend.

While Brabham headed towards Coventry the following day with two damaged engines, the mechanics set to work in Guildford. They toiled through the night and into Tuesday, ensuring the cars were ready for the return of the engines late that evening. Wednesday was spent preparing for a night crossing to Calais, the truck arriving at Reims just in time for first practice on Thursday.

The huge effort appeared to have its reward as Gurney and Brabham qualified third and fifth and, at various stages, looked set for podium finishes. Then Jack had a transistor lead come adrift and Dan’s gear lever broke. It must have seemed a weary journey home.

And yet if Brabham and his crew were with us now, they would say they had the very best time – just as the mechanics at the Trust lunch did when recalling happy days a few decades ago. And doubtless the current well-drilled race teams will say exactly the same in retirement. Comparing eras and work practices is pointless. Things were just ‘different’. And how.

This article is one of many in the monthly Autosport magazine. For more premium content, take a look at the July 2026 issue and subscribe today. 

Today’s mechanics will look back on their experiences with similar satisfaction

Photo by: Alastair Staley / LAT Images via Getty Images