Evening Star Newspaper, January 25, 1931, Page 75

Capt. Malcolm Campbell, daring Brit- ish race pilot, says that without luck it §s impossible to achieve great things. BY CAPT. MAFCOLM CAMPBELL. OTOR racing is an expensive busi- ness, especiaily to amateurs. Great Britain, unlike other countries, does not specialize in professional racing drivers, but so far British amateurs have succeeded in holding their own. careful preliminary training and preparation. You have to be tremendously keen and fit. It is essentially a man’s job. “Women have won their laurels in so many branches of sport, business and the professions that one wonders in what sphere their next great achievement will be made. Miss Carstairs has put up some amazing performances in her speedboat, although women have not made any attempts so far on the world’s land speed record, none of them having taken this branch of sport very seriously, with the exception pos- sibly of Mrs?Scott. ONLYthmewho have taken part in high- kg speed motor trials know the physical strain that is involved in controlling a car going at anything over 150 miles an hour. One has to be in the strictest of training, comparable with that of the Oxford and Cambridge boat crews, before one can hope to make a worth-while at- tempt on any record. However, women have achieved so maay successes where it was thought they would be constitutionally incapable of competing with men that it is difficult to express apy view at all as to what they may do in the future as regards land speed records. ‘Women make good drivers. As I drive back and forth between London and my home each day I notice the number of women who are at the wheels of cars. On the whole there seems little to choose between their standard of driving and that of men. Among both sexes you find black sheep, driv- ers to whom the words “courtesy of the road” have no meaning. It is only fair to say that these are to be found mostly among those new to car driving. These are the embryo motor- ists. The vast majority of those who own cars are reasonably careful in their handling of them. Many persons are content simply to be -able to drive reasonably well, but it seems to me there is growing up a generation which, not content merely to sit at the wheel, seek’'to learn as much as possible about the whys and the wherefores of their machines. These are the enthusiastic amateurs, to whom is largely due the credit for raising the standard of driving in England and from whom will be recruited our record-breakers of tomorrow. In my opinion, there is no doubt that within the next few years we shall attain a speed of more than 300 miles per hour. Some people think that traveling at that speed is too t a strain on the human organism for it to e practi- cally possible, but I do not believe that is true. THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JANUARY 25, 193L British Racing Motorist Who Will Try for New World Speed Records Shortly on the Florida Beach, a Fatalist in the Realm of Sport, Tells Here Why He Ascribes His Several Narrow Esa'zpes to “Good Luck Only.” For many years I have been engaged in auto- mobile racing and have very frequently done more than 200 miles per hour. I have not found the strain at all great. Why should it be unbearable at 300 miles per hour? As for the machine, the same applies. Improvements in construction are taking place every day, and I expect manufacturers will go on improving their products in the light of the lessons they are constantly learning from each successive record attempt. JUST as danger is all in the day’s work, so are misfortune and disappointment. I was dogged by misfortune in my attempt on the world's speed record at Verneuk Pan in April, 1929. I had decided to make my first attempt early in the morning of April 21. But there was a defect in the timing apparatus and my start had to be postponed. At last all was ready. My racer, the Blue Bird, was drawn out to its position; the wind, which was unpromising earlier in the morning, had died down; condi- tions looked ideal. A large number of people had come out to see the run and private cars crowded on each side of the course and some were straying on the tracks as well. It was some time before the track could be cleared. Valuable minutes had been lost. The wind came up again, great clouds of dust blew across the pan. There was nothing for it. I climbed out of the cockpit and we rolled the car back to its marquee. In the afternoon the wind was still boisterous, but in the early evening it calmed considerably and I decided to make my attempt. I went down the measured mile with a slight following wind. My speed over that distance worked out at 225.59 miles per hour. After changing all the tires and filling up with water I made my return run without the 30 minutes’ prescribed wait, but the wind in- creased in violence, and ‘my return speed was only 212 miles per hour, which brought the average for the two runs down to 218 miles per hour. The rising wind was all part of the luck of the game. Now it is my opinion that Verneuk Pan could easily be made one of the world’s finest speed tracks. But it is badly in need of attention. With a sufficient outlay of money it could be made nearly perfect. It was anything but perfect’ when T tried In vain to beat the world’s record over it in 1929. As I made the return journey I felt two severe bumps, and when you are moving at a great speed a bump is a thing to remember. In fact, they strained my back and gave me a headache. T was not until five days afterward that I could make the next attempt, and this time my objectives were the kilometer, five-kilometer and five-mile records. I was determined that there should be no hitch. I started just before sunrise and had to drive into the sun. If it shone over the horizon before I had finished my chance was gone. But luckily Sol was hidden by a cloud. I seized the fleeting mo- ment and this time I was luckier. I did not secure the kilometer record, but the other two became the trophies of my bow and spear. My average speed over the five miles was 212 miles per hour, surpassing the standing record by 72 miles per hour. For the five kilo- meters my speed was 216.3 miles per hour, which was better by 13 miles an hour than the previous record. No sooner had I finished than the sun shone out bright and dazzling. Here again I encountered several bumps. In places the track was torn up and the Blue Bird leaped through the air for distances of 40 feet. It stands to reason that a racing motorist must experience many thrilling moments in his career. But it is all part of the game—as much as carrying a hod of bricks is to a brick- layer or delivering a speech to a member of Parliament. And it is only to be expected in the circumstances, when you have escaped instant death by the luckiest and most im- possible of accidents a reasonable or unreason- able number of , that you should become a bit of a fatalist. “If this is the end it’s the end,” you say to yourself, “and if not, well, it isn't,” and thereby comfort your soul with incontrovertible logic. . All racing motorists have been up against a near thing more than once, they have carried their lives in their hands for long-drawn-out Death claims many victims from spills and crashes in the automobile race game, but if your luck is in you come through alive, declares Capt..Compbell, ..., S | The Goddess of Chance—¢& Betty Carstairs, famous English speede boat pilot. moments and have afterward sat down to & dinner which for a few agonizing seconds they never hoped to enjoy. But few can have had such an experience as I encountered at Brooklands in 1912 and, having encountered it, lived to tell the story. I was driving a2 59.6-horsepower Darracq, and as I came round the bend the offside front tire burst. Down we went on the rim, the car swerved to the right. Still on full throttle, I endeavored to get the car down the finishing stretch and win the race. Unfortunately for me, at the last moment the car made another swerve and hit the cement ledge on the side of the finishing straightaway. The car leaped in the air, the offside front wheel immediately collapsing, the rear offside wheel following suit. Bits of the wheels flew off in all directions. One of the rims cut through the iron railings, missing an attendant only by inches. I don’t know how I kept that car straight on its two wheels, but I did somehow and pulled up right in front of the grandstand. The huge car swung round with its own impetus and finished within a few feet of the spectators. But their luck and my own was in and I man- aged to bring the car to a stop, when just a little more spged would have been fatal to myself and to them. Luck, fate, chance, Providence, under what- ever name it may choose to. masquerade, there is “a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.” To say that this element of luck plays only a small part in human affairs is to shut one’s eyes to one of the most obvious truths. Personally I am convinced that luck is the one truth in life which we cannot afford to ignore. As a racing motorist I am brought up against this fact ®lmost every day I drive a car. Without luck it is impossible to do anything big. You can train and prepare for a big race for weeks and months beforehand, you can do everything within your power to see that your car is as technically foolproof as man can make it, you can guard against’ all contingencies except one—bad luck. You may be leading in the last lap, with your nearest competitor well behind, everything may be in your favor, all may have gone well until the last moment, and then, just when victory is in sight, barely a mile from the winning post, something goes wrong. What is that but bad luck? Why did your car go wrong a mile before the post, while the winner’s car ran perfectly all through the race, but breaks up 200 yards past the winning post?, Time and again I have seen that sort of thing happen on race courses all over the world. It has happened to me more than once, Ask any racing motorist and he will say exactly the same as ¥ do now, that without luck a driver may strive for years to get to the top of the treg and fail in the end, while the lucky man gets there with infinitely less effort and much less time. The very unlucky driver gets killed or crippled early in his racing career, the lucky ones get their share of crashes and nar- row shaves, but by some lucky chance they