“Stan and I didn’t do any special training for that race; he knew what I was doing and vice versa. He’d been at Ecosse for three years whereas I was the new boy, but it was me who had to ask Mr Murray for our share of the mechanics’ prize. Both years! He was hanging onto every pound and I don’t blame him: it’s an expensive sport and the team was on a shoestring. I don’t know what he paid the drivers but I wouldn’t be surprised if only Flockhart got paid and that the others drove because it was a nice team with good cars.
“But he could be generous. On the Continent, we got 30 shillings a day to cover our bed and three meals. We’d been away for about six weeks [in 1956] and I was running short of cash, so I asked to borrow £10. When we got back we picked up our wages – sometimes there’d be 10 envelopes waiting for you – and I offered him £10. He insisted that I hadn’t borrowed from him. And that was that.
“The same thing happened the following year. I had made him write an IOU in his notebook, which I then signed. But when I offered to repay the money I discovered that he had torn the page from his book.
“Of the drivers, Flockhart was a really nice bloke to work with and didn’t lose his head. [His 1956 Le Mans-winning co-driver] Ninian Sanderson, however, a second-hand car salesman from Glasgow, could be a bit wild. The team rules were: no drinking or fornicating before a race. Well, we were at Goodwood and he was about 2.5sec off the pace in practice, saying that he couldn’t pull 5,800rpm in top gear. To change the back axle on a D-type takes two blokes five hours…
“The next day he was still 2.5 seconds off and we had to change everything back. After the race, he came to the beer tent for the first time: ‘I’m buying, boys.’ We asked for a beer, but he said: ‘Not with me. You’ll have a scotch.’ It was his way of saying sorry. We later found out that he’d had a bird in the hotel and was therefore off-peak, as it were.”