Balancing rallying's thrills and spills

What's a good age to die? There's really not one, is there? You don't need to answer that. One thing is for sure, it's certainly not 50. Thirty-nine's not much better and 20 would be a tragedy. Rally people of each of those ages have passed away in the past shocking week in our sport.

The biggest shock to British and Irish fans was the terrible news that Rory Galligan finally lost his battle to the same long-term illness that robbed him of his Mitsubishi Motors UK seat part-way through the 2006 British Rally Championship.

It's easy to look back when somebody's gone and extol their virtues, praise their spirit and generally make sure the memory of them is nothing but positive.

I'll get around to that in a minute. But first, I have to be honest. Rory wasn't always as nice to me as he might have been. We were working on a Christmas feature 10 years ago, when he was driving a 206 in the Peugeot Challenge. The story was a simple one: could Rory drive around the Turweston test track in Oxfordshire faster than me with one arm tied behind his back?

Given the scope for this to go pear-shaped, we'd convinced Mick Linford to lend us one of the Peugeot UK cars. And off went a one-armed Galligan.

Admittedly, I could have helped more from the co-driver's seat, but frankly seeing the poor fella grappling with gears, handbrake and steering wheel was too funny for words. Three-into-one certainly didn't go that day.

Having endured my amusement from lights to flag on his run through the stage, Galligan had his perfect revenge planned. I have to admit I was a little surprised at his eagerness to co-drive a hapless fool such as me. I should have smelled a rat, but I didn't. My sole focus was beating his time.

And everything was looking good. Looking on, there's no doubt Linford would have been impressed with my speed and commitment... And, to be honest, I'd now long forgotten my tormented rival alongside. But he hadn't forgotten me.

Illness cost Galligan his Mitsubishi BRC drive mid-way through 2006 © LAT

Approaching pretty much the final long right-hander of this miserably wet broken-concrete stage, victory was, without doubt, in my sights.

Off the brakes, I turned in and felt that trademark wiggle of the 206's rear. No bother. Lots of bother.

Peripheral vision gave me a glimpse of a sly smile. Quick as a flash, the handbrake was tugged, the rears locked, the car spinning and, with a crunch, we were into a bank. Did I say into a bank? We were actually on the bank.

Now who was laughing? Not me.

Rory bloody Galligan was, however, in pieces. The git.

Fortunately (I think it was the blinding speed I was showing before being pitched into an accident entirely not of my making), Linford saw the funny side and decided not to invoice for the damage.

Once we'd cleared that up, I saw the funny side as well.

In fact, it was impossible not to see the funny side when Rory was around. He had a gentle nature and a fierce sense of humour. He was a solid, honest and genuinely fine fella.

And a fast one at that, too. One-handed, he wheeled the Peugeot way, way quicker than I could with a full quota.

Rory will be badly missed by plenty of people.

He's not the only one. A 50-year-old marshal and 20-year-old rally fan lost their lives when a car crashed on last Saturday's Rallye Regional Plan de la Tour in the south of France.

The precise details of this accident are still being investigated but, beyond the obvious deep concern for all involved, I was also troubled to read of the French interior ministry getting involved.

Galligan drove a factory-supported Peugeot in the BRC - and scared our man © LAT

Rallying must, absolutely must, keep its own house in order - and I'm not in any way laying any blame for the tragic events of last weekend.

I'm the first to advocate a wholesale shift back to the 1980s, complete with monster routes and no sleep. But, we have to look at the bigger picture now. And accidents like the one in the Var region bring that into sharp focus.

Thirty years ago, people died while watching rallies on a regular basis. Let's not forget the organisers of that fateful 1986 Rally of Portugal escaped relatively easily - the FIA laid no blame at their door - and the event ran in the calendar in 1987. How could that be? Take a look at the footage and the shocking level of spectator control.

Could you imagine that now? If that happened these days, the event would be finished. If not the sport.

A few years ago, I toured the complete Rally GB route with Andrew Kellitt, looking closely at where and why he now chose to put spectators. Things then made sense.

The talk of spectators being shepherded into pens was laughable, there remained and remains plenty of scope for fans to get out there and do their own thing, but the need to make sure everything is done to ensure their safety is of paramount importance.

Self-censorship - whatever the cost to the viewing public - is vital. Far better we have a safe, if slightly sanitised, sport than no sport at all.

And this has to be a consideration while we eulogise about the good old days. I'm ready to wax lyrical as much as the next man, but we have to remember Group B belonged in different days.