James Hunt's 1978 F1 diary part two

The latest AUTOSPORT Legends bookazine focuses on 1970s Formula 1 superstars James Hunt and Niki Lauda and their infamous rivalry.

To coincide with its release, AUTOSPORT is republishing the complete series of 'Just James' diary columns that Hunt wrote for the magazine during the 1977 and '78 F1 seasons.

Part one: January to June 1977

Part two: July to December 1977

November 25 1978. For the past two years I have been fortunate enough to receive end of season invitations to race in countries I have not visited before. Last year I went to Mexico City but was unable to race because the track did not have an international permit. This year it was Australia that lured me away from my home in Spain. Part of the invitation was that I was able to take an 'entourage' with me. I managed to persuade the Australians that it was extremely important for me to have my own mechanic, my manager and a 'gofer' to accompany me on such an expedition, and I was thus able to give Ray 'Kojak' Grant, my brother 'Norman' and an old friend John Richardson a two week holiday. Ray has been with me at McLaren for the past three years and I was delighted that the Wiener gave him the time off to come with me.

Our farewell party at Heathrow, hosted by three other New Zealand McLaren mechanics, complete with 'Maori safety boots'(the inevitable flip-flops) was fairly indicative of the hospitality we were to receive over the next two weeks. The long flight out was made pretty painless by the generosity of Malaysian Airlines who looked after us outstandingly well. Their hostesses were of a standard unequalled by any other airline I have ever used before and we all fell in love every time the crew changed.

Our base in Australia was Melbourne and we spent a couple of days there on arrival doing a few interviews and a television chat show.

The race was to be held at a circuit called Winton which I discovered to be a tiny village about 120 miles north-east of Melbourne. In fact it is so small I believe it doesn't even have a pub, and anyone who knows Australia will immediately realise how small it must be. (Which reminds me of a story; Larry Perkins, who is alive and well and living in Melbourne temporarily retired from racing, told me about the place he comes from, Cowangie. I asked him whether Cowangie had a pub and when he said that it didn't I asked how the inhabitants of the town survived. He explained that only two people live in Cowangie now. There used to be more, but the nearest pub is 20 miles away and they all got killed on the way home!)

Hunt found Peter Revson's 1973 grand prix winning McLaren still racing in Australia © LAT

The nearest town to Winton is Benalla and it was due to the enterprise of the Benalla Auto Club that I was invited to compete there. The Auto Club is determined to make Winton the best motor racing circuit in Australia and they have hired a promoter, one Ken Campbell, to organise money-making projects so that they can extend the circuit (currently a very tight 1-mile track) to about 3.5 miles and build a proper pit and garage facilities. The circuit is extremely safe with vast open spaces for run-off areas and they have plenty of land on which to build their circuit extensions. Robert Langford, the CSI safety inspector, visited the track prior to my arrival and gave it his blessing together with an International Permit. His only significant comment was the obvious one - 'there is some catch fencing there, but it's been placed to stop kangaroos getting onto the track rather than to stop you hitting anything.'

The race I was competing in was the Rose City 10,000 for Formula 5000 cars. There is a thriving Australian Formula 5000 championship which had just been won by Graham McRae and this race was just an extra one put on by the Benalla Auto Club a few years ago. There were a few familiar names entered apart from McRae, such as John McCormack and Kevin Bartlett, and it was good to see a McLaren M23 again, although this one was powered by a Leyland 5-litre engine. I believe it was the chassis Peter Revson used to win the 1973 British Grand Prix, now raced successfully by McCormack.

Qualifying went very well with Kojak acting as liaison between my wild gesticulations and the Elfin team. I was driver the car usually campaigned by Garrie Cooper (who designed and built it) and Vern Schuppan and it was a nice change to be able to throw a car around a bit. The quickest way in an F1 car is the most precise way, but a 5000 car can be much more fun to drive. I managed to get it together for the second qualifying session and sit on the pole for the first time for over a year which pleased me probably even more than the Elfin team. Next up on the grid were McCormack's McLaren and the Lola of Alfredo Costanzo followed by Jon Davison's Lola, Kevin Bartlett's Brabham and the rest.

On race day the grid was completed by a driver who unfortunately because of his religion is allowed to do no work at all on a Saturday. This means he is never able to qualify and always has to start from the back of the grid. Talk about making it difficult!

Hunt unwinds after a difficult final season at McLaren © LAT

Race day was gloriously hot and I'm pleased to say a crowd of about 15,000 came through the gates. The race was a bit of a procession because McCormack had a brake problem early on and I was able to keep the others a respectable distance behind. It was wonderfully short, only 30 laps, but gratifying to get a win at the end of a disastrous season.

In time-honoured Australian tradition we had a wonderful party after the race, moving from hospitality tent to hospitality tent until long into the night. Each sponsor seemed determined to outdo all the others by the size of their steaks and the quantity of their refreshment. Suffice it to say not many of them would have had much change on a sale or return basis!

From Melbourne we moved to Coolangatta, near Surfers Paradise, for a few days. Apart from hoping to get some sun, the main purpose of our visit was to see Kojak's mother who had not seen her son for eight years. I am told that his hair was a bit shorter when they last met but luckily his fame had gone before him and his mother did not collapse when she saw him. Unfortunately it poured with rain all the time we were there but we were entertained lavishly by 'Mrs Kojak', despite the beer strike in Queensland, as she had wisely brought in some stocks from over the border.

The weather in Melbourne was superb on our return there and we spent a lazy two days with our hosts, whose hospitality never wavered. This is a good opportunity to thank all those involved with the organisation of our visit, particularly Ken Campbell and his hard-working assistant Peter Voyle. Rhonda Matthews, who accompanied us on our tour of Queensland and who acted as our 'nanny' for the whole trip, John 'Davo' Davison who came with us to Queensland and the far east and who gave us our official introduction to Australian slang, and finally to Mark Adie who was employed to kick people who gave us any trouble. We would have loved to have seen him in action with his size 12 riding boots but he was unable to give us a demonstration because nobody gave us any problems. (In Mexico we had three bodyguards armed with machine guns, etc., but the Australians clearly thought we only warranted an expert in unarmed combat!)

Now the holiday time is over and we will be starting to test the new Wolf before long. I obviously can't say anything about it yet but am confident we will get some results in 1979.

October 19 1978. After the sad events that followed the Italian Grand Prix I was glad to get away from it all, in the comparative quiet of Marbella, where the most strenuous activity of the two week break was a local squash tournament. Fortunately the extension to my house is virtually completed, as Oscar my German shepherd dog, has recently become a proud father!

My 'holiday' was all too brief and I flew out with the constructors' charter to Watkins Glen on the Tuesday before the race. On this occasion the mechanics behaved themselves and didn't block the air conditioning system with fluff from the seats - the aftermath of a massive pillow fight en route for the Glen, the previous year. The weekend got off to a bad start when Bernie Ecclestone and I took on Mo Nunn at Backgammon - our combined intellect was such that we took a sound thrashing. It wasn't until the following week, in Montreal, that Bernie was able to avenge our defeat!

My team-mate Patrick Tambay set the tone by driving through a wire fence into a spectator's mobile home, when his attention momentarily strayed. I suppose nautically speaking the collision was 'head on' as the owner was seated, convening with nature at the time. The motor home's septic tank burst which put him (literally) in bad odour with his fellow campers. Interesting enough, the 30mph bumpers on Patrick's hire car withstood the 6mph collision without a mark - the rest of the car however was completely rooted. So much for safety bumpers.

There was speculation among certain hacks that Marlboro were pulling out of racing, when the Marlboro-McLarens arrived resplendent in the light and dark blue livery of Lowenbrau with the rest of the team dressed to match. There were in for a disappointment, Lowenbrau is part of Miller Brewing and in turn belongs to Philip Morris. John Murphy who leads Miller is an astute marketing man, and could see the value of the promotion and had asked to 'borrow' the Marlboro team for a couple of races. There was no shortage of beer for the boys that weekend!

New colours for McLaren in the North American races © LAT

I suppose testing went well by our standards, but although we were good in 'class' we were not really in the ballpark overall. Michelin had really got it together, using the same compounds as at Monza, and the Ferraris and the Renault were flying. Nevertheless, in the final fling my McLaren was fifth overall until relegated by Alan Jones in the Williams. Alan had the honour of being the fastest non-Lotus-Ford qualifier. I was particularly pleased for Frank whose hard work all these years deserves the success he currently enjoys. Long may it last!

The meeting was overshadowed by the controversy over Riccardo Patrese and the actions of the Drivers' Safety Committee. As a member of that body I am not entitled to divulge what goes on within, and am only sad that the governing body of motorsport has proved itself unwilling to act in this respect.

In the race I made a reasonable start and was generally maintaining grid position without profit or loss, when I passed John Watson and found myself behind my old adversary Niki Lauda. To stay with the Brabham-Alfa I had to drive right on the ragged edge, and eventually this proved too much for a front tyre. After a curious exchange of signals with my pit - they hung out a question mark and received the appropriate Churchillian gesture as a reply, I charged into the pits for new front tyres, as the outside shoulders had blistered. When I rejoined I was back in thirteenth place. Aided and abetted by retirements and passing a few cars I eventually finished just out of the points behind my team-mate.

Climbing up through the field I had a first class view of new boys Rene Arnoux and Derek Daly, in Surtees and Ensign respectively, and must report I was very impressed by them both, particularly the Frenchman, who was getting his Surtees round the track very quickly indeed. By the time I came across them it was late in the race, but they were still racing hard and fast, which is difficult, on a physically demanding track like the Glen. They both made one serious error, which impressed me even in the short term - they apparently failed to realise I was on the same lap as them and kindly moved over to let me pass. Thanks fellows - but don't expect the same from me.

After the race Niki, Wattie, Bernie and myself flew 'Laudair' to New York for a few days of relaxation. I gather this trip has already been food for the fertile imaginations of the gossip columnists! On the Wednesday we all flew up to Montreal to find that Thursday's unofficial practice had been called off - we nearly returned to New York there and then!

Villeneuve won his first grand prix as his nation's new Montreal circuit hosted F1 for the first time © LAT

The entire F1 contingent were housed in the Regency Hyatt Hotel in downtown Montreal who were also hosting an alcoholics anonymous convention - the resident staff understandably had trouble working out who was who!

First impressions of the track, which is situated on the site of Expo '67 on the Ile de Notre Dame were not that impressive. It is narrow and features plenty of first gear corners, however it turned out to be the fastest of the true road circuits. Friday's practice was a total disaster as it rained virtually non-stop. The Michelin-shod Ferraris were easily fastest; rest of the field was spread out as Alastair Caldwell puts in 'in reverse proportion of their intellectual ability and experience'. The entire Brabham team failed to qualify as they were all in the pits when the track was as its driest. The scenario in the Brabham hospitality unit was unbelievable - end of term flavour pervading the atmosphere. I wasn't in much better shape but I think Teddy Mayer was probably wishing he was at Brands to see his USAC team come third.

Luckily for Brabham the final session was dry and they quickly found their feet. Wattie fastest for the first half hour with Niki right behind. For me it was another disaster, my engine expiring out on the circuit after a handful of laps. By the time I got back to the pits and the spare car was ready (it was tailored to Patrick) practice was virtually over. There I was on the second last row!

The GP itself was like a Hollywood script with Jarier having engine problems with the race in his pocket, and local hero Gilles Villeneuve winning his first GP and a Canadian-entered car finished second. I was soldiering around in eleventh place when a drive peg sheared and I spun into the mud.

Before the start when I climbed aboard my car, I found a note on the steering wheel: 'This is the last one, good luck buddy - it's been a great three years'. Next year, it looks as if I will be driving for Walter Wolf. In many ways I will be sorry to leave McLaren, but the Wolf team are so enthusiastic with such a will to win, I can't resist the challenge. It will be nice working with Harvey Postlethwaite again - he knows my measurements and tastes in more ways than one!

September 21 1978. Sunday, September 10 was a black day in the history of motor racing, and one I would like to be able to forget.

As is often the case, a fair amount of rubbish has been written about the accident. A lot people have pinned the blame on the starter, Gianni Restelli, but this is rubbish. True, the start was messy but the drivers were guilty of taking advantage of the situation, and the starter can hardly be blamed for: a) the drivers trying to manoeuvre the rules to their advantage at the start and, b) the blatant bad driving two hundred yards down the road.

The system is faulty but obviously the nature of the track - the wide starting apron into a narrow funnel after a couple of hundred yards - and the messy start were minor contributory factors. The hard truth is the root cause was dangerous driving.

We had just completed the warm-up lap and were taking up starting positions when the red light came on - even though only the front couple of lines were stationary. The remainder of the pack held back, and when the green came on, were still rolling. This certainly contributed to my excellent start.

Riccardo Patrese made what can only be described as an Italian home start and was right up alongside me - except he was on the part of the track that leads to the old banking. I was slap in the middle of the pack, with Ronnie Peterson on my left.

As we approached the funnel where the tracks divide, Patrese, with nowhere to go, without warning, barged over on me, pushing me into Ronnie. In the ensuing sandwich my car flew up in the air and flew sideways down the middle of the track. Behind me all hell broke loose. My McLaren felt like it was being bumped from all sides. Somehow, my car stayed on its wheels and I slid to a halt down the track, disjointed cars skating crazily by. By some miracle, I wasn't hit again.

As everybody came to a halt and the dust settled, I saw that there was a big fire behind me on the track - so without further ado I leapt out to investigate. I arrived on the scene to find Ronnie's Lotus ablaze, with one marshal already on hand with a single fire extinguisher.

The aftermath of the accident © LAT

Despite what people have said, this marshal was the real hero of the day. He had reacted instantly, and was making intelligent use of the extinguisher. Instead of blasting the whole thing off, in a vain attempt to contain a full 35-gallon petrol fire, he was conserving the limited supply of foam available by using short blasts to knock down the flames in the immediate vicinity of the shattered cockpit, ignoring the main fire on the other side of the wreck.

I went in to pull Ronnie clear, but found one of his legs trapped between the steering wheel and what remained of the chassis. Flames and smoke enveloped the whole car again, but the marshal flattened them and, with additional assistance now on hand, we managed to wrench the steering wheel clear.

I picked up Ronnie by the epaulettes of his uniform and dragged him clear of the car. I knew then that Ronnie's injuries must be pretty severe, as there was virtually nothing left to the front end of the car.

I was appalled at how long it took the other marshals to arrive, and it seemed an eternity before the ambulance reached us. In all fairness, a medical attendant was attending Ronnie, giving him oxygen. But, as in nearly every emergency, it was chaotic.

The drama was far from over. On the restart warm-up, something on the left front corner of Jody's car broke and he crashed heavily into the safety barriers at Lesmo. This turned out to be a lucky break as far as the rest of us were concerned.

We had found the surface of the track soaking wet in the original accident area, as the organisers had used two large tankers to wash it down, and it hadn't dried. With the added hazard of the badly damaged barriers, we managed to talk the organisers into a further delay, by which time the track had more or less dried.

Peterson's wrecked Lotus is brought back to the pits © LAT

I had cooked my clutch at the restart and was plodding up through the field when ignition problems forced me into the pits. I can't say I was particularly unhappy to retire, under the circumstances.

Before the Italian Grand Prix, McLaren had been up at Silverstone trying a new front suspension set-up that reduced the camber-change and, hopefully, would lessen the basic understeer characteristics of the M26. Patrick Tambay ran back-to-back tests and found the new set-up eight-tenths faster. They also tried a new twin-caliper braking system which seemed promising. My testing was confined to the Italian coastal resort of Alassio where, along with Agostini, Tambay, Giacomelli, Patrese, Merzario, Uncini and Marlboro Nanny McNally, we participated in the annual Steamroller Race.

A judicious choice of routes in the semi-final saw me lose by popular vote to local hero Jack O'Malley.

After a hectic evening sampling the local delights, we drove up to the Villa d'Este on Lake Como, where we stayed for the weekend. The trip was punctuated by our chauffeur, Patrick T, being stopped for speeding. We had emerged from a restricted bend in a perfect four-wheel drift, straight into the arms of the local law. Patrick particularly impressed me after successfully arguing that he had neither Lira nor French Francs for the fine, and offered to pay with his American Express card...

The Villa d'Este is just down the road from World Champion powerboat racer Tullio Abbate's workshop, and I enjoyed a trip in their new twin BPM offshore boat. As a special treat, I was allowed to drive Tullio's own racer, which has a similar power-to-weight ratio to a Formula 1 car. Didn't leave me much time to soak up the local scenery!

September 7 1978. The first story I heard on arrival at Zandvoort concerned team member Giacomelli, B. Much to Teddy Mayer's surprise and understandable indignation the Italian Grand Prix organisers had notified him that the European Formula 2 champion would be expected to participate in the pre-qualification trials. Telexes chattered back and forth, but despite FOCA approval couple with national driver exemption clauses, the organisers remained adamant.

The mystery was only resolved after McLaren had informed the organisers that if Bruno had to pre-qualify the entry would be withdrawn. There was an instant change of heart. Unbeknown to McLaren, 'Jack the Lad' had been in Milan while all this was going on and, seeing the opportunity to get some extra miles under his belt, had been frantically lobbying for his own pre-qualification.

'Jack O'Malley' wasn't the only embarrassed person in the pits at Zandvoort. Teddy Mayer had been in the midst of complaining to Cosworth's Dick Scammell that the latest production version of the DFV development engine, recently bought at considerable expense by McLaren and fitted to Bruno's car, was only giving average power. At that very moment, R. Peterson wanting to know what motor Bruno was running as there was no way his Lotus could get by on the straight. Smiles from Scammell - exit one red-faced 'Wiener' (Mayer).

A young Nelson Piquet was among the growing McLaren contingent © LAT

There was a good deal of Saturday Night Fever among certain constructors on hearing that the CSI had deemed the fashion to be skirtless for 1979. Like many creations that emanate from the Place de la Concorde in Paris, the new form found no favour with FOCA. However, a hastily convened meeting in the Marlboro hostility unit on Sunday morning saw the principal members emerge looking particularly pleased with themselves. With the CSI elections imminent, this was an interesting turn of events, as Jean-Marie Balestre seeks support for the presidency.

A head-on confrontation with the constructors can only end in one result. If Balestre reckoned to split FOCA, judging by the smiles and back-slapping following the constructors' summit meeting, he has made a major tactical error. One wonders what cards the master politician has up his sleeve.

Zandvoort confirmed its preference for 12-cylinder engines (if one ignores the Loti - pretty difficult these days), and practice moved my Marlboro McLaren to be the fastest of the other Ford fanciers.

Goodyear went overboard in their efforts to supply me with suitably sticky rubber and in the final blind we broke through the 18-second barrier. Going like the clappers on my second flying lap on Wolverhampton's best, a perfect lap was rudely interrupted by a major traffic jam on the final corner. I was particularly disappointed as the team's hard work was not fairly portrayed, but being unlucky with traffic is just part of motor racing. On full tanks my car behaved extremely well again so we had high hopes that with a few 12-cylinder retirements we would finish in the money.

We were in for a major disappointment. After a super start, I got balked and had to lift off - a few laps later my car started to plough and handle oddly. I had failed to identify a slow puncture in my right rear tyre which was to progressively slow me down.

Hunt was surprised Peterson didn't pass Andretti © LAT

I did, however, have time to appreciate the progress made by the Renault team. The speed of their turbo-car comes not from the engine - although this is adequate - but from the chassis. On the same tyres as Ferrari, the Renault is obviously quicker despite the handicap of the throttle lag. This must be causing major aggravation at Maranello.

Later I had to suffer the ignominy of being lapped by the Lotus pair. I found it difficult to understand why Ronnie Peterson did not pass Mario Andretti in circumstances which were a blatant invitation - Mario had a sick car and Niki Lauda was breathing down Peterson's neck. The easy way would have been to win - and do the apologising afterwards.

Only a few days before, Ronnie had been party to an ugly scene when Mario discovered that Chapman had offered him a joint number one contract for next year - the tempting offer was withdrawn. I have a simple solution to Chapman's problem - sign them both as joint number twos. It would hardly matter because a number four would be able to win in that car anyway. My own team-mate, Patrick Tambay showed a distinct lack of taste by passing me right in front of the Marlboro grandstand where the P. Morris European President, Bill Murray, was entertaining 300 guests.

With so many Marlboro McLarens in the pit lane - as well as Bruno Jack, Nelson Piquet, the young Brazilian, was also running in Marlboro livery - some wags were suggesting that Andrea de Adamich and Alex Soler-Roig might reappear from retirement at Monza conjuring up spectres of Big Lou in the pit lane - what a thought!

August 24 1978. Getting back to Spain after the Grand Prix has become something of an expedition in these days of air traffic controller go-slows, so I am happy to report a resounding victory a couple of weeks ago while returning from a Marlboro-McLaren test session at Zandvoort. I managed to hitch a ride on a Martinair charter out of Amsterdam to some virtually unknown resort 100 clicks (kilometres) from Barcelona, grabbed a cab, and managed to get the last seat on a direct flight to Malaga to arrive home triumphantly on the same evening.

For the Austrian Grand Prix, Teddy Mayer has booked Patrick and me into the Schloss Seefelds, a delightful hostelry on the banks of the Worther See. The facilities of the hotel (tennis, water skiing, windsurfing) are offset by the fact that it is a two-hour drive from the track. Niki Lauda, Jochen Mass and Jody Scheckter were also staying there, while Mario Andretti and Ronnie Peterson were down the road with Colin Chapman. So every morning there was a massive airlift from nearby Klagenfurt into the military airport at Zeltweg.

I travelled in the comfort of Niki's Lear, but Jody flew in on the first day with Walter Wolf in the latter's Jet Ranger. The previous evening Jody had heard Niki's comment, that he had 'given up learning to fly helicopters, as it was too dangerous unless one is a full-time professional'. Jody arrived at the track looking a trifle green around the gills for even though he had flown impeccably, the ink was still wet on Walter's chopper licence.

The race began in dry conditions © LAT

Practice had again demonstrated that my Marlboro-McLaren had good handling and balance. In contrast, Renault had apparently made a lot of progress, and the fast circuit obviously suited the turbo, with the result that my old F3 protagonist, Jean-Pierre Jabouille, only gave best to the Lotus twins. In the second session, any chance of moving up the grid disappeared literally with a bang, when my engine disintegrated after a couple of laps. I marched back to the pits to report the explosion to Teddy Mayer in proper military fashion, clicked my heels, saluted and proceeded with the spare car.

Afterwards we found that Patrick Tambay's M26 was consistently one of the fastest cars through the speed traps. I had been suggesting politely since Sweden that Patrick's newer chassis might be an improvement, and on this occasion it was decided I would give it a whirl the following day. Overnight the seat and pedals were changed over, and in the untimed session on Saturday, I was quicker after only two laps. Patrick's car didn't really feel any different - it just went faster.

As a result, I elected to drive it in the final hour's fling, but by an amazing piece of organisation, eight parachutists coincided their demonstration drop over the track with the start of final qualifying. My car was warmed up, armed with qualifying tyres, ready for a real go when the session was stopped. By the time it was restarted - rain had stopped play. I did, however, get out on Goodyear's new knobbly rain boots, but got the impression that the old pattern tyres better suited the M26 chassis, as we had it set up.

The pit lane cognoscenti advanced an interesting theory on why Ronnie was once again faster than Mario, even on hard tyres. These 'experts' argued that Ronnie's sideways style resulted in optimum tyre temperatures on the 79. Less easy to rationalise was why the Swede's Lotus was fitted with two fourth gears at the start of the final practice session!

Peterson heads for victory © LAT

The Osterreichring is almost as difficult as the Nurburgring when it comes to predicting the weather, and even before the race most teams guessed the GP would have to be stopped at one stage or another. After a reasonable start I found I was elevated from sixth to fifth place on the first lap, when along with the rest of the field, I passed Mario skating backwards along the guardrails, shedding pieces of black and gold fibreglass.

Mario had engaged in one of his now famous first lap overtaking manoeuvres and paid the price. On this occasion, Carlos Reutemann was the whipping boy - 'Carlos was driving like an old grandmother', according to the championship leader. With all due respect, slicks on a damp track would seem to require a little grandmotherly caution!

Even though it had been raining heavily at the back of the circuit since the third lap, it was not until the seventh lap that the red flag came out to stop the race. By this time it was almost impossible for some slick-shod cars to get up the hill after the pits due to wheel-spin on the streaming track.

When we arrived back at the pits, pandemonium broke loose. Bernie Ecclestone was telling Colin Chapman his fortune. As Ronnie's Lotus had been pushed back onto the track after his spin, Jackie Oliver was incensed that Patrese was not included in the re-start, even though the battered Arrows had arrived back on the end of a rope, covered in grass after a major off-course excursion. The Ferrari team manager was rushing up and down the pit lane brandishing the FIA Yellow Book. As this was the first time the new wet weather procedures have been applied it was not surprising that there were some novel, if convenient, interpretations.

The second race was a non-event as far as I was concerned as I got nudged by Derek Daly, spun and whacked the barriers hard enough to damage the Marlboro-McLaren's rear suspension. Irishman Daly drove a good race for Ensign and worked his way up to fourth place behind quite distinguished wet weather company before taking to the green fields.

August 10 1978. I arrived in Germany the week before the GP to play in an exhibition squash match with an old friend of mine, Mike Nathanson, who was opening a new squash centre in Munich.

The interest in squash in Germany is mushrooming and this was reflected in TV coverage and a packed gallery - not surprising really as the northern European climate makes squash an ideal form of fast and effective exercise.

The match went to five games and we were nine-all in the final game and we had six hands before I finally succumbed. In fairness to Mike, I think I had a most sympathetic marker.

Munich is a great city and I must say I found time to get into plenty of action on and off the courts.

Next stop was Hockenheim, where we had decided not to take the Marlboro McLaren M26E, following a Silverstone test with Patrick Tambay. The new car showed no appreciable improvements over the standard car, but McLaren are continuing to develop it as it provides useful feedback for the new car.

Practice saw Lotus sweeping all before them, but we found ourselves pretty competitive on race rubber. However, for some strange reason, the car was only marginally faster on 'quallies'.

Both the Marlboro McLarens were reasonably fast in the first session and on the second day, my car really felt good particularly on full tanks and hard race tyres.

In the final one hour fling, I had just got a good tow from Patrick, and was all set for a real flier, when I came across Vittorio Brambilla stuttering along, virtually out of petrol, in the middle of the last corner. This spoilt my chances of improving my grid position, so I headed straight for the pits, giving the Monza Gorilla a quick brake test on the way. Unfortunately, we got tangled up and he finished up with his nose out of joint - literally!

Scheckter's 'discreet' Ferrari trip was just the start of an eventful weekend © LAT

One of the best bits of paddock gossip concerned Jody Scheckter, who a few days previously, had tried to make a discreet visit to Ferrari 'for reasons best known to himself'. Fletcher had managed to board the same aircraft which was ferrying the majority of the European press to a Fiat new car launch in Milan.

Jody looked up to recognise one face after another, and to find himself virtually surrounded by the press. I remember when Jody was first talking to Walter Wolf a couple of years ago, and how unhappy he was to be spotted having lunch at Walter's Castelleras hideaway near Nice.

Needless to say the following day, the papers were full of 'Jody swaps Wolf for Prancing Horse' stories. It must have been a particularly frustrating weekend for the press, especially as they couldn't confirm the speculation one way or the other as they were precluded from eavesdropping in that area by the organisers, who had over-policed the gates.

Aerodynamics being the black and hold art that it is, everybody was trying to emulate the old 1-2. Our friends at Ferrari had arrived with a selection of pipe configurations: one car had the standard exhaust, another had a rare over and under, and the third had all four coming out over the top.

On the other cars the new exhaust configurations are to improve the aerodynamics with the use of skirts. As Ferrari run skirtless, it will be interesting to discover what exactly they are trying to achieve.

Race day was as hot as it was in Brazil. The starter managed to get himself in a real twitch and when the field came round, the red light was already on. The moment the front row stopped, he threw the green, even though the grid was barely in position.

This caught out a lot of people, but fortunately, I was ready for it. My first few laps were pretty horrible, as we had set our tyre pressures lower than usual, expecting them to rise in the high ambient temperature. We obviously got our sums wrong, as the pressures didn't come up as fast as expected.

The tyres were running too soft which caused damage to the outside shoulders. Surprisingly, they appeared to come right after about five laps, and I really got going, pretty happy to be in fourth place and thinking about my next move.

Hunt and McLaren went with low tyre pressures to counter the heat © LAT

Just when it was looking as if we might finish in the points for a change, I picked up a puncture in the right-hander after the pits, and had to struggle round, the tyre flailing wildly.

By the time I had got round to the back of the pits on the infield section, I had lost a couple of laps, so I decided to take the slip road into the pits directly, rather than present a serious hazard running around in first gear around the rest of the infield section.

I rejoined the fray and was thoroughly enjoying myself, having passed Laffite and Scheckter, when to my great disappointment, out came the black flag. This was a bit strong, as Rolf Stommelen, who had done exactly the same thing on the first lap, was out there entertaining his compatriots - and was even classified.

As far as the local organisers were concerned, Jody Scheckter won the Prix Citron award for thumping an officious gatekeeper, which resulted in the Wolf team being fined.

Jody further confirmed their opinion after the race when he had an altercation with a second Adolf, who refused to let Jody leave the special drivers car-pound. The car park attendant had refused to unlock the chain so Jody could join the specially policed convoy of drivers heading for the airport, so Fletcher leant his car against the chain and not surprisingly snapped the two supporting poles, debris showering passers-by.

He then found himself on the circuit, effectively pace car for one of the supporting races. I thought this sort of performance was my prerogative!

Immediately after Hockenheim many of the teams went straight up to Zandvoort to get their cars set up for the Dutch Grand Prix in a month's time. Once again my car felt very good and with the exception of the Lotus, we appeared to be reasonably competitive.

Bruno Giacomelli, who was there with the McLaren 'B' team, was easily fastest of the pre-qualifiers and comfortably under the existing lap record. Our chances at Zandvoort look much healthier.

June 29 1978. The merry-go-round of promotional work took me from sunny Spain into the heart of Geordie land, opening Vauxhall dealerships in the Newcastle/Middlesbrough areas.

Then it was down to Brands Hatch along with half the other Formula 1 teams, where I tested my Marlboro-McLaren without an airbox, to improve the airflow over the rear wing. We also tried some different front suspension geometry, which seems promising.

I flew back to Spain on the Thursday for a long weekend, and set off for the Swedish Grand Prix early so that I could fit in a couple of GM engagements in Copenhagen and Esjberg - unfortunately I did not have time to sample any of the Danish capital's notorious nightlife.

When I arrived at the Anderstorp circuit, I was greeted by a barrage of questions from the press following speculation in the Italian magazine Autosprint that I would be driving for Ferrari next year. I must say it was very flattering - but it was the first I had heard of it!

It seems the silly season gets sillier and starts sooner every year. Despite my relatively unsuccessful year so far, the morale in the McLaren team is amazingly high, and I was amused to see taped to my dashboard the usual cryptic McLaren messages, prefaced on this occasion by 'Enzo says...'

I found myself in old faithful M26/1, after a fuel leak in the first practice session had forced my race car into the pits for a major re-plumbing job. I thought it was now a museum piece, which probably accounts for why I drove like an ancien pilote myself all weekend.

My official race car was still being repaired after the Spanish contretemps, so the original M26 had been brought out of retirement.

Before my McLaren sprang a leak I had tried out some stiffer front springs, but wasn't convinced they were an improvement. I was to discover later that I hadn't give them a fair test, and they coped better with the peculiar constant radius corners found at Anderstorp.

Hunt struggled to make an impression in qualifying, and wound up 14th © LAT

Based on the recent Lotus tests, I had expected Ronnie Peterson to really star round his home circuit. But poor Ronnie set his car up with broken engine mounts on the first day, and with a broken roll bar on the second, so Mario Andretti was once again on pole.

I had a pretty miserable time; whatever we did, it didn't seem to make any difference, and try as I might we still qualified well down the grid (McLarens and Ferraris are far from famed at Anderstorp!).

Post-practice, most fan interest was generated by the Brabham Fan Club. The constructors convened a meeting in the Marlboro hospitality unit which went on for two hours. I offered to buy a ticket, but was unable to afford Bernie's price...

The following day, after Niki Lauda and John Watson had shown the real pace of the latest BT46 and split the Olympus JPS-Lotus cars on the front row, the shit really hit the fan...

By now the constructors seemed solidly against the 'sucker' car, and another two-hour session saw the participants emerging shaking their heads totally perplexed. That evening, at the Marlboro barbecue at the High Chaparral, Mario really got into Jean-Marie Balestre of the CSI on the subject.

The whole conversation took a turn when Patrick Tambay joined the party suggesting that skirts should be banned - for a moment, Mario had a major sense of humour failure. The world championship leader was actively lobbying for support to the view that the sucker was dangerous; I must say, I am not looking forward to being behind it in the rain.

The next day, my M26 was wheeled out with a large dustbin lid attached to its rear end, emblazoned with Marlboro stickers, the work of 'Kojak' (Ray Grant) who looks after my car.

Mario nearly collapsed with laughter and quickly borrowed a camera to record the sight for posterity. He was less amused during the race, when he got a close-up view of the real thing...

Even before the race, we were dreaming up the headlines ('Niki blows them off', 'Fantastic Niki' and the like), but when Niki actually got out there and blew the Lotus into the weeds I think a lot of people were surprised the fan had lasted.

Lauda heads Watson in the controversial BT46B 'sucker' car © LAT

Personally I was delighted for Niki. The Lotus domination has been making grand prix racing a bit boring recently.

Whether it gets banned or not, the Brabham aspirateur, as the French press have already christened it, has added a new and interesting dimension to the World Championship.

My race was not a happy one. Patrick made a better start than I did, and I found myself trailing my team-mate, whose McLaren was handling better as mine had been set up with special soft springs which turned out to be a bad bet.

I had a grandstand view of the Andretti/Lauda battle when they lapped me, and nearly slid off the road in my efforts to keep out of their way. The Brabham was phenomenal through corners, and several laps later I spied Mario's stationary Lotus lying exhausted beside the track.

My McLaren had understeer under full fuel load, but this had changed to oversteer towards the end of the race. Teddy Mayer looked pensive when I gave him the thumbs-up after Emerson Fittipaldi went past me, and his first McLaren in several years.

I remember once, when I went to Anderstorp to drive in a Formula 3 race, I slept in a tent beside the Ford Transit van that I had driven up there. How times have changed!

There were no fewer than three Cessna Citations on the ground, and to outdo them all Niki turned up in a Lear and left in a Citation. Oh to join the jet set! Even the best laid plans of rats and men can come to grief, and Niki had started to fire up his engines with a set of jump leads attached to Clay Regazzoni's similar aircraft.

I decided to go home with the boys via England rather than stay in Sweden for an extra night. The Charter was packed, as usual, and for some reason the charming Laker hostess seemed reluctant to do the full life-jacket drill, particularly the bit where she has to blow up the auxiliary. It seems people were against sucking and blowing this weekend...

Prix Citron news: Incidentally, Niki Lauda scored highest points in the Swedish weekend.

His pertinent answers to the circuit commentator after the race, followed by flying off without a press conference for the blazer and armband brigade, really annoyed Cahier. Competition for my title is hotting up!