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From the Rolls-Royce experimental archive: a quarter of a million communications from Rolls-Royce, 1906 to 1960's. Documents from the Sir Henry Royce Memorial Foundation (SHRMF).
Article from 'The Autocar' magazine detailing the tragic final Tourist Trophy race held on the Ards Circuit in 1936.

Identifier  ExFiles\Box 160\5\  scan0173
Date  15th November 1940
  
505 The Autocar, November 15th, 1940

TWICE-TOLD TALES OF MOTOR RACING No. 25 : THE SPORTS EDITOR

Finale on the Ards Circuit

Tragedy Brings a Great Series to an End

THE year 1936 saw the last Tourist Trophy race of that great series held on the Ards Circuit. Other races followed in another place—excellent races, but not of the same appeal, for no longer did the cars run on the ordinary roads. Just what that means even a driver would have difficulty in defining, yet none the less it makes a real difference. It was as though one album of experience had been closed and another opened.

The end was bound to happen, when you come to think it over. You cannot go on for ever with good hard racing between lines of spectators, all anxious to get as close as possible to the cars, without a disaster sooner or later, even if all the care in the world is used. Just this disaster wrote Finis to the race's history on the Ards Circuit.

And it had been a good race. The opposition was extremely strong, for a whole team of French Delahayes arrived. They were cars not to be sneezed at in the hands of well-known drivers, and obviously extremely fast. Then the B.M.W.s carried Germany's colours, and were well worthy of the marque, as you may imagine, while to add zest Eddie Hall was running the Bentley again, Brian Lewis, Pat Fairfield and Lord Howe were driving Lagondas, and a group of Rileys included one to be driven by Freddie Dixon—all the ingredients, in short, of a first-class bicker. But it was odd that the Delahaye team seemed to be losing the race before they started. They did not seem a coherent unit, and, as a whole, treated a very difficult circuit with something alarmingly like contempt. No man can put that slight on the Ards Course, as most of them found out when they tried real speed on the last day of practice.

A Nasty Little Problem

Well, the affair began well. Dick Seaman, driving one of the Astons, was faced with a nasty little problem from the start. All the engine bearings had been ruined in practice and replaced; hence the question was whether to go gently and endeavour only to finish, or to go for all the car was worth while the going was good. Careful thought (and none used his head more than Dick) suggested that even the more cautious solution would not work; the bearings could not possibly stand up, and so Dick went as fast as he could, triumphantly right up in the front, until the inevitable occurred.

But that run was all the better because the weather was awful. Blinding sheets of rain made everything difficult, so that drivers who lacked cars for that race were for once content, which explains, as nothing else could do, how bad it was.

Little Bira skidded into the sandbank at Newtownards and bent the B.M.W. quite a bit, though it was repaired, most of the trouble being a groggy rear wheel. Fane, pressing forward eagerly with embryo side whiskers almost bristling, got his B.M.W. round in truly remarkable time, once or twice covering ground in semi-circles that was not strictly part of the authorised course.

Even Brian Lewis hit that sandbank at Newtownards with the Lagonda, departing without pause and with one bent wheel, commenting pithily on the situation.

The Delahayes were certainly sensational. One was hit by a Bugatti and put out of the race ; the others were sometimes exceptionally fast, sometimes not so fast. Their pit work was full of verve, of shouts, of misplaced cans, and other excitement which wastes valuable minutes. But all the time the redoubtable Freddie Dixon brought his Riley round in the very forefront of the fray, making no mistakes.

Later, the rain having cleared, the Bentley-Lagonda-Delahaye-Riley scrap became much more intense. Clarke's Delahaye was taken round at 84.06, Brian's Lagonda at 83.20, Eddy Hall's Bentley at 81.07; so, you see, there was no time wasted by anybody. But Freddie's Riley, driven after the refill by little man Charles Dodson, not only got round at 79.31, but kept on near that speed without falter.

As the Riley was a 1 1/2-litre that, on handicap, forced the larger machines to keep almost flat out, since the speed of all good cars well driven on the same corner is the same.

Riley Lap at 80.35

And well towards the end of the race the situation changed radically in the Riley's favour. First, Charlie Dodson actually recorded a lap at 80.35, almost equal to that of any of the big cars. Eddie Hall continued hard with the Bentley (which his pit personnel pretended was going to stop for a refill when it was not, the better to discourage other people), but Brian's Lagonda came to grief, having to limp in with every speck of oil gone from the engine and reserve tank, thereafter to fall from the picture entirely. Arthur Dobson's Riley, which was in a nice position, incontinently broke an axle shaft which put paid to the day's account, and only Fane with the B.M.W. was coming up great guns, lapping at 80.61 in fine style.

About that time, too, there was a curious feeling in the air as officials by the Grandstand seemed of a sudden earnestly busy. Then Rumour, the many-tongued, woke to life. "There had been a smash . . ." "A disaster . . ." "Hundreds had been killed . . ." "Cars were piled up in heaps Newtownards way." The official car left. Behind it remained a most unpleasant suspense.

Then came the news. Something had happened to Chambers' Riley, which, going out of control as it swung fast to the turn in Newtownards main street, had charged the crowd, injuring many. To most of us it seemed odd there should be a crowd at that point at all, none having been noticed early in the race, apart from the fact that the outside of a turn like this is definitely dangerous.

The race went on in a tense atmosphere, as you may imagine, its completing laps worrying Freddie Dixon nearly frantic as he watched his car from the pit. No driver is a good spectator of his own car handled by his
  
  


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