The Dallas F1 crash that demonstrated Senna's total self-belief

2 November 1983 was a fairly typical winter’s day at Silverstone. The temperature was around 12 degrees in the morning – not warm enough to dry off a track surface wet with overnight drizzle. The light south-east wind was doing little to help, it merely added to the misery of a winter test. And yet in other ways the day was far from typical for this was the day that Ayrton Senna first drove a Toleman, the car he was to race the following season with me as his race engineer.

This wasn’t Ayrton’s first taste of Formula 1. In July he had driven Keke Rosberg’s Williams FW08C at Donington Park and, in the autumn, McLaren had given him a run in the MP4/1C – but this was his first experience of a turbocharged Formula 1 engine. The enormous throttle lag associated with those early engines did nothing to help him master what was a rather difficult chassis. It was also his first experience of Pirelli tyres – the Williams had been on Goodyears and the McLaren on Michelins. Then, as now, the Pirellis took some mastering.

I wasn’t actually running the car that day. That was left to Rory Byrne but, in a way, as an observer, I was better able to examine how this rookie driver was progressing. It was nothing short of impressive. His run in the McLaren had given him some indication of what to expect of an F1 car at Silverstone but his early mastery of the turbo engine’s throttle lag and his precise feedback were really quite exceptional.

Then there were the lap times. In qualifying for the British Grand Prix in July, Derek Warwick had been the faster of our team cars, setting a time of 1m12.5s for 10th on the grid – and this on ultra-soft qualifying tyres. By the end of the morning Ayrton had lapped at 1m12.0s and, in the afternoon, he shaved this down to 1m11.5s – a time that would have put him eighth on the grid.

Of course, the high tyre energy at Silverstone and the somewhat fickle thermal nature of the Pirelli tyres in those days may have played a part, but no one was in any doubt that here was someone who was going to shake up the establishment. This was a fact not lost on another Brazilian, Nelson Piquet; at a later test at Paul Ricard in the Brabham, it’s widely believed Piquet instructed the chief mechanic, Charlie Whiting, to alter the set-up of the car after Nelson set a baseline lap time to ensure Ayrton didn’t get close to it.

Waiting for a star

For our part at Toleman, we were a small team and with the departure of Derek Warwick to Renault for 1984 we couldn’t afford a star driver. We were very much the new boys on the block. 1984 was our fourth year in Formula 1 and we had only scored our first points at Zandvoort the previous season. We needed to find a new talent and hope that this could move us up the grid.

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We had followed Ayrton’s career with interest. His exploits in Formula Ford were exceptional and, having been in that white-hot battle myself just a few years previously, I knew what was needed to dominate. Equally his Formula 3 efforts of 1983 reinforced our view that here was someone we needed.

Symonds (right) saw first-hand how impressive Senna was able to operate in his early F1 days

Photo by: Andre Vor / Sutton Images

Ayrton was both realistic and pragmatic at this time. Even at that first test with us he’d said, “This car doesn’t have the capabilities of Ferrari, Renault or Brabham. But this car is definitely a potential podium candidate, maybe even next year.” In a way he was right but the Toleman TG183B we started the 1984 season with wasn’t a car for the podium. Its successor, the TG184, was a very different matter.

Before we could get that car, we needed to persevere with our updated TG183. The car was unconventional to say the least. Its enormous front underwings were very effective, and the car had good downforce and drag figures for its day, but it was very difficult to set up. The aerodynamics had a very narrow sweet spot, and the tyres were extremely difficult to get in the right temperature range. When we did get it well set up it could be quick but, even then, it was a heavy car to drive.

Then as now, it was customary to carry out pre-season testing at the venue of the first race and for 1984 that was Rio de Janeiro. Ayrton was already a local hero and during this test we really got to know each other and understand how we would work together. Ayrton was reasonably aloof but the pressure on him was immense. I wish we had been able to start the season somewhere other than his home country. Nevertheless, we were working well together and were very disappointed when, after he qualified 17th, his race only lasted eight laps before a turbo failure stopped him.

The next race was at Kyalami in South Africa. The 1,500-metre altitude of the circuit aided our competitiveness since our Hart turbo engine coped better than the normally aspirated Cosworth-engined cars. Equally the lack of air made it harder for the drivers and it was then that we discovered Ayrton’s weakness. He simply wasn’t fit enough to race a difficult car for 300kms in a rarified atmosphere.

To improve the car Ayrton and I worked together, with him describing what was holding him back from going faster and me applying my knowledge of vehicle dynamics to improve things. In the race he was on his own. We didn’t even have radios then

By now, Ayrton was driving the team hard. Back at base, Rory Byrne and John Gentry were hard at work on the definitive 1984 car, the TG184, and I was spending my time between races in the wind tunnel developing the aerodynamics. Ayrton by this stage knew what he wanted. He required more benign aero, better throttle response and, above all, he wanted to switch to the Michelin tyres which had impressed him on the McLaren.

A sticky problem

In the knowledge we were dealing with a future star, we worked hard in all these areas. I tried to empirically develop the aerodynamics to be less height sensitive, Brian Hart started working with two Lucas engineers who would go on to set up Zytek on an electronic ignition and injection system, and Alex Hawkridge sought Bernie Ecclestone’s help to obtain Michelin tyres.

The latter did not go down well with Pirelli. When the company found out it refused to give us tyres for the first day of the San Marino Grand Prix. Discussions went into the night before Pirelli relented and we had tyres for Saturday. In those days there was a qualifying session on Friday and Saturday and your best time from the two sessions determined your grid position. A misfire on Saturday, combined with no time on Friday, meant that for the only time in his career, Ayrton didn’t qualify. His disappointment was palpable. He had tested the TG184 and knew good things were coming but it was scant consolation.

We did, however, field two 184s at the French GP in Dijon for Ayrton and his team-mate Johnny Cecotto. The car was a revelation. Now we had something we could work with, and Ayrton and I were determined to make the most of it. Of course, in those days we didn’t have any data acquisition or vehicle modelling. To improve the car Ayrton and I worked together, with him describing what was holding him back from going faster and me applying my knowledge of vehicle dynamics to improve things. In the race, he was on his own. We didn’t even have radios then.

Senna reached true F1 stardom when he came so close to winning the 1984 Monaco GP

Photo by: Sutton Images

A little-known fact is that Michelin had to have the agreement of all its other teams before it could supply us. Ron Dennis would only agree if we had the oldest, rather than the latest, specification of tyre. This was disappointing but at the same time, the thought that McLaren felt threatened boosted our morale. I mention this because our most famous race of that year was the very wet Monaco. There was no such thing as a previous spec of wet tyre and so, for this race, we were on equal footing with the other Michelin teams.

The result was historic. An exceptional drive by Ayrton, aided by our first race with the electronic fuel injection, netted us second and, except for controversial circumstances, should have given the team its first win. Yes, Prost won the shortened, red-flagged race in the McLaren but one more lap and victory would have been ours. The team and Ayrton had come of age. Ayrton and I reflected on this result many times – should we be happy to have finished second, or angry and disappointed not to have won? For both of us the former predominated for a few hours, the latter for a lifetime.

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Ayrton and I were, by this time, a tightly-knit team. Race engineering was very different then and much more empirical. It was, I think, even more important then that the driver and engineer communicated well and understood each other. There was no data to fall back on and, over the next few races, we worked to a point where mutual trust was the key to success.

Trust fund

There were times when this was tested and one such example was the very hot race held in Dallas in July of that year. Ayrton made a storming start from the third row to be in fourth place at the end of lap one and then, briefly, to snatch third place from Derek Warwick in the Renault before touching the wall and spinning to the back of the field on lap two. He limped back to the pits for a tyre change and rejoined the race in last place – but actually running on track just behind Nigel Mansell, who was leading.

For a short time he showed what might have been as he was able to run with the leaders, albeit respecting the blue flags and eventually allowing the leading pack to pass him. Thereafter his lap times remained impressive until shortly afterwards he clipped the wall. This dropped him back again and ultimately caused his retirement from the race when a constant velocity joint in the driveshaft cried enough, having been battered against the wall once too often.

Since our other car had already retired, I did a debrief with Ayrton when he arrived back at the pits. He was clearly troubled by what had happened. Having completed the debrief I joined in packing up. As we decanted our equipment into the crude aluminium crates we used to ship everything, I noticed Ayrton was still sitting disconsolately on the wall, deep in thought. I went over to talk to him and he told me that it was impossible he could have made such a mistake.

Dallas, being a temporary circuit, was bounded by large concrete blocks which both delineated the circuit and acted as crash barriers. These blocks weighed several tons and were placed end to end. They weren’t always locked together, instead just relying on their own mass to hold them in place. After some discussion Ayrton concluded that the only way he could have hit the block was that the block itself must have moved.

Senna was dumfounded by his Dallas GP exit and the uncovered cause of it demonstrated his skill and self-belief

Photo by: David Hutson / Motorsport Images

Now, Ayrton was a persuasive character and I had already, by this stage, realised that when he said something it was generally worth listening to – but this time, I really thought he had dug deep into the driver’s standard handbook of excuses. Nevertheless, partly because he wouldn’t be dissuaded and partly because of my own curiosity as to why several other top drivers had also clipped the wall at the same place, we decided to walk around the circuit – the race having long finished – and inspect the scene of the crime.

Sure enough, when we got there, we found the far edge of the particular concrete block had a rubber mark on it and was pushed inwards some way. This had the effect of pushing the near edge of the block outwards such that it stood proud of its predecessor. It was obvious that at some point someone had touched the far edge of the block with a wheel and caused the block to rotate just slightly out of line.

Now, the amount I’m talking of was probably no more than 10 millimetres – in other words what should have been a smooth transition between the blocks had a 10mm step in it. Ayrton was overjoyed to see this. In his mind, it totally vindicated what had happened that afternoon. For my part, it was an incredible illustration of the precision with which a top driver could control his car as it pitched and rolled around this incredibly bumpy, low-grip track.

Ayrton went on to great things, but he always had time for a word with me in the paddock. Generally we spoke of inconsequential things, but he was a man who thought about everything very deeply

Far more importantly it gave me my first insight into something I was to see so many more times in my career, which was the amazing importance that a driver – or for that matter any sportsman – must attach to self-esteem. For any driver to be in a position to win the world championship he needs to believe beyond all else that he is the best in the world and that he is both invincible and incapable of error. Ayrton believed this from day one.

Life lessons

The season proceeded well – a podium at the British GP was a highlight although marred by Johnny Cecotto’s career-ending crash – but storm clouds were gathering. The team was progressing well but not fast enough for Ayrton and he, unbeknown to us, signed for Lotus for 1985.

No one could blame him for this, but his contract stated clearly that he had to inform Toleman before negotiating with another team. He didn’t do this, which didn’t go down well with Alex Hawkridge, the team principal, who suspended him for the Italian Grand Prix. Ayrton couldn’t believe this. How could a team jeopardise a result like this? But Alex was a man who believed a contract was a contract.

Ayrton was devastated although, after Monza, he came back as strong as ever and gained another podium for the team at the final race of the year at Estoril in Portugal. It wasn’t until some years later that Ayrton finally admitted to me he’d learned a valuable life lesson from the suspension – and what’s more, I don’t think he held a grudge about it.

Despite Senna leaving Toleman for Lotus in 1985, Symonds only remembers the Brazilian fondly in their time together

Photo by: David Phipps

Of course, Ayrton went on to great things, but he always had time for a word with me in the paddock. Generally, we spoke of inconsequential things, but he was a man who thought about everything very deeply. One might expect that of his racing career, but I think it went much deeper than that.

He was a highly intelligent man and one who truly cared about humanity. While he came from a relatively privileged background, I think he always remembered his roots in racing, those hard days away from his home country, friends and family, travelling to yet another remote English racetrack with his Formula Ford.

While the Ayrton out of the car was a compassionate and altruistic person, the one in the car was a fierce competitor and, like all great sportsmen, one who had incredible self-belief. In 1992 I remember an incident which typified this.

By then I was running Michael Schumacher at Benetton. In the French Grand Prix at Magny Cours, Michael and Ayrton tangled on the first lap, putting Ayrton out of the race. Later the race was red-flagged due to heavy rain and Ayrton, now in his everyday clothes, came onto the grid looking for Michael.

The ‘discussion’ got heated – being racing drivers, neither would admit to the incident being anything but the other one’s fault. I had to step between them to ensure it didn’t come to blows. They were both great people, but the competitive instinct was capable of overruling rational thought.

I’m proud to have worked with Ayrton. In those early days at Toleman we were growing our careers together. His death was a defining moment in our sport and it robbed us not just of a great man, but the chance to enjoy the sheer magic of his driving for longer.

Was he the greatest of all time? It’s impossible to say – each generation of Formula 1 driver has different needs placed on them. The sheer courage of Nuvolari, the work ethic of Schumacher, the technical detail of Hamilton, the talent of Verstappen, the adaptability of Senna. Who knows who was best – in my eyes they’re all heroes.

The crash with Schumacher at Magny Cours, where Symonds needed to become peacemaker as neither driver could admit being at fault

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