The Legend
There are moments in life when something stops you in your tracks. You are momentarily stunned. This occurred during the Service of Thanksgiving for Sir Stirling Moss back in May. I was privileged to have played my own minor part in what was a remarkable, if belated, send-off for someone I considered a very dear friend. Westminster Abbey was packed, the event having been brilliantly stage-managed by Stirling’s son, Elliott. There were more than 2000 people in the congregation, and I was on hand to do a couple of readings. I must admit that I choked up momentarily. I didn’t see it coming, but it was clearly audible. It was commented upon. I’d had no idea I would be so affected until suddenly I was.
The bit that really left an indelible impression was seeing my youngest boy Sebastian amid the procession at the start. Stirling was something of a grandfather figure; they got on like a house on fire. He walked immediately behind Royalty, carrying Stirling’s old pudding-basin helmet on a cushion, with Damon Hill behind him clutching my boyhood hero’s 1961 Monaco Grand Prix winner’s trophy. I had a lump in my throat watching Sebastian, who handled it all with aplomb and great dignity. He loved Stirling and wanted to honour him accordingly. And he did. I was a proud dad, I don’t mind telling you. It was such an extraordinary day and, it has to be said, a happy one.
I don’t want to delve too deeply into the whole greatest driver debate other than to say that Stirling was surely a candidate. I certainly think he was the most complete driver of his generation, and among the greatest all-rounders. He excelled in everything. He wasn’t ‘just’ a Formula 1 driver. He was masterful in a single-seater but equally so in a sports car, a rally car; whatever. He just had that extra something.
I did all right. Of course, I am happy with what I achieved, but equally I would dearly have loved to have become a benchmark driver like Stirling. We all would. I am just so glad that we became good mates in later life. I miss him still.
After the service, my wife Misti and I hot-footed it to France for one of the Derek Bell Tours with V Events, which saw us take in the Grand Prix de Monaco Historique. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I have a bit of a thing for the venue,
