It was at Goodwood, on Easter Monday in 1962, that his extraordinary career came to an end when he was still the man to beat. I was a seven-year-old boy and I remember my grandfather Freddie was distraught. Stirling was in a coma for a month in St Richards hospital just down the road from Goodwood. He tried a racing a car out again much too quickly and almost immediately decided he wasn’t quick enough and would never race again – who knows what might have happened if he had had access to modern methods of recovery and rehabilitation. He remembered nothing of the accident, his love of racing at the circuit undimmed. To watch him drive at the Revival, where his enthusiasm and passion for the sport touched everyone who met him, was a joy and privilege. He just overtook everyone, even when he was more than twice their age!
I am thinking today of his wife Susie who was such a huge source of strength and happiness for Stirling in everything he did. They were wonderful company and I am just pleased that they were together this morning when he died peacefully after a long period of illness.
Mister Goodwood has gone, but he will never be forgotten by anyone who loves the sport of motor racing, or was privileged to see him race. Ciao Stirl, we salute you and we will miss you.