I
don't quite know how to begin - at the beginning, I suppose is the
logical answer - but my story is one that bends logic, as you will
see.
Let me begin
then before the beginning of Mike and me. I was a very good student
in school. My family lived in a village on the edge of Toronto, Canada.
My parents wanted me to go to a better school than the local school,
but it was beyond their means. My grandmother took me to meet the
Anglican archbishop of Toronto. He very graciously arranged a scholarship
at St. Clement's for me on the conditions that I placed in the top
10% on the entrance exams, kept that high standing and most important
of all - used that education for the benefit of humanity in some way.
I discovered
that I had a talent for math and science. I was fascinated by cars
and racing. There was a time when I could have drawn maps of the some
of the great GP circuits because I has studied them so much. I was
engrossed in the details of circuit design. My interests progressed
to F1 suspensions, tires, circuit pavements and safety features. I
went to marshalling school at Mosport, nearly fainted during the first
aid film and so they put me on signaling and communications. I worked
at several races and also participated in rallies as a navigator.
At 15 I was the only female and the youngest student member of the
Society of Automotive Engineers. My contribution to the school yearbook
was an article on F1 racing - a first for that very traditional girls
school. Who knows where all of that might have led. But, what happened
next convinced me that I had gotten off my path. I was in a terrible
car accident - so terrible that I died, went to heaven and came back.
( Today we call that a near-death experience or NDE). I saw many wonderful
things there. Since then I have tried to live my life according to
what I saw and learned that day. I saw my future - or at least part
of it. I was shown things that I was told I had promised to do before
I came into this life and emerged determined to fulfil those promises.
Fast-forward
2 years to 1967. I was just beginning my career in public education
and fundraising for international development and relief agencies.
I worked full-time for one that could afford to pay me and volunteered
nights and weekends for several others.
I had a
friend from my engineering period who was very keen on racing. He
had two tickets to a reception for the factory teams that were in
Toronto for the first ever Canadian motorcycle Grand Prix to be held
that next weekend at Mosport. I was out of touch with racing and wasn't
that keen, but he convinced me to go. He also gave me a stack of magazines
to read. He told me as much as he could about the riders, bikes, etc..
In the summer of 1967 there had been a number of squabbles over starting
money and other issues between the factory and non-factory riders.
Emotions ran high and a lot of them were directed at Mike Hailwood.
Those stories combined with stories depicting Mike Hailwood as a glamorous
playboy shaped my negative mental image of him.
When my
friend and I arrived at the reception at the Westbury Hotel we saw
that there were about 200 people there. We separated because he wanted
to try to get some autographs.
I went over
to the buffet table. The only one there was a rather forlorn looking
Japanese man. I said, "Hello" and started talking with him. He showed
me pictures of his family in Japan and asked about my family - that
sort of thing. Out of the corner of my eye I became aware that someone
was watching me. You know that feeling.
Soon a very
nice looking man with a stylish moustache walked over to me and said
" I think that is just about the nicest thing I have ever seen a woman
do.
" What's
that?' I asked as my Japanese friend faded away.
" I've been
watching you and you have been spending about 10 minutes talking to
Teddy - that's what we call him - and you gave him your full attention
- that was very nice. Unless you speak Japanese it must have been
a very limited conversation."
I laughed
and replied," 'Well he looked lonely". To which he replied, "'Well,
I 'm lonely, would you talk to me?"
We talked
for approximately 5 hours. We talked about music, history, travel
- everything but racing. I actually assumed that he was a journalist
or a public relations type for one of the teams. I was impressed by
his gentleness and wide knowledge of the world.
At one point
during the evening flash bulbs went off amidst a burst of laughter
at the opposite end of the very large room. I was startled and looked
in the direction of the lights for a second. He asked if I would rather
be over there. I said, 'no, not at all.' Then it happened again and
he repeated the question a little more insistently. When I replied
'no' a second time he asked ' are you sure?' .
I replied
with a laugh and giggling - "Oh no, that's probably just Mike Hailwood
and I wouldn't walk across the room to meet him'.
I emphasize
that I was laughing when I said that. He looked stricken for a second
and asked, 'Why ever not?' I explained about my friend, the magazines
and the stories. I said that from everything I had heard Mike Hailwood
was a jet setting playboy and womanizer, probably rather superficial
and not at all the kind of person I would enjoy talking to. He asked
if I was enjoying talking to him and I replied, "Oh yes, very much
so!"
A little
after midnight the reception was breaking up. Amazingly we hadn't
been interrupted during the whole evening. He asked me to have breakfast
with him, then he suggested lunch, dinner, etc.. With each suggestion
I kept explaining that I had commitments at work. He suggested every
day until the weekend. I was smiling at his persistence. Then he asked
me if I was going to the practice on Friday.
I said,
" No, I told you I am really not a racing fan and besides I have to
work." Then finally he asked if I was going to go to the races on
Saturday.
I asked
him if he was going to be there and he got an odd look on his face
and said, 'You really don't know who I am, do you?"
I said, laughing again ( I laugh and giggle a lot ) "no, who are you?"
He replied, "I'm Mike Hailwood and I'm going to marry you".
Needless
to say we saw each other the next day and every day that week.
The following
week was magical.
Mike was
a man of extraordinary depth and sensitivity. We didn't go dancing
or anything like that. All he wanted to do was spend our time together
talking. This annoyed his great friend and fellow racer, Bill Ivy,
to no end as he had lost his carousing partner. He would make comments
to the effect that Mike was turning into an old man. We spent a lot
of time alone in the room which Mike shared with his Honda teammate,
Ralph Bryans. Ralph was always gracious and left us alone as much
as he could.
Mike talked
a little about racing. He was sincerely astonished that people thought
what he did was worth getting excited about. I remember one specific
thing he said. ' They could strap a monkey on a bike and he could
do what I do'. He had seen that in a circus and remembered it. Mike
was in a time of deep introspection and self-examination - what we
would call today a mid-life crisis. He felt that Honda might quit
racing and wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life. A love
relationship with a spectacularly beautiful film star had just ended
and left him deeply hurt.
When I had
read the racing magazines I had seen a few pictures of him wearing
a helmet and goggles. He didn't have a moustache in those pictures.
Mike had grown that to cover the evidence or a recent accident. He
often said that my not recognizing him was a great gift because he
knew he could trust me. I wasn't one of what he called racetrack dollies
who just wanted to be with him because of his fame, or money or glamour.
He talked about living the public relations image of himself - the
celebrity side - as 'being Mike Hailwood" as in " I don't know how
to do anything else except to be Mike Hailwood". Partly because his
mother had left the family when he was a toddler ( he didn't see her
again until 1974 ) and partly because of his other experiences he
was extremely leery of people in general and women in particular.
Like all of us he didn't want to be hurt again.
One of the
unexpected things that we had in common was that we had both been
to very good schools and been unhappy there - I was teased because
I was a scholarship student in a school for girls from wealthy families.
Even though Mike's family was certainly wealthy he was teased about
his accent.
Mike wasn't
a big man. He was actually rather thin in those days. But he had great
strength in his arms and hands - probably from wrestling the Beast
as he called the Honda 500 - 4. Mike had very large hands like a football
player's. He could easily pick me up and carry me. Mike was a great
hand holder. But sometimes he would hold my hand so tightly that I
thought he was going to crush it.
The dark
cloud hanging over our week was that we both knew he had to go back
to England to race in the Race of the Year at Brands Hatch. I was
astonished when he brought up the subject of marriage again. I really
thought that when he said it the first time he was just being funny
- I never dreamed that he meant it.
One night
he mentioned it again and pressed for an answer. I was really torn.
I hadn't told another soul about my near-death experience at that
point. People just didn't discuss those things the way they do today.
So instead I told him that I didn't think I could bear to watch him
risk his life every weekend for the entertainment of a crowd of people,
many of whom would just as soon see a spectacular crash as anything
else. He replied,' I am not going to be killed on a race track - so
you don't need to worry about that' ( no mention of serious bodily
harm! ) I was startled. 'How can you be so sure of that?" I asked.
He proceeded
to tell me something that he said he hadn't told another person. "When
I was 18 I was starting racing in South Africa. One Saturday night
after a day of racing some of us went to a nightclub in Durban. There
were 8 of us - all about the same age sitting at one table. A very
old Indian fortune-teller came into the club. He came over to us to
read our palms. He proceeded to tell us our fortunes and how each
of us would die. He said that none of us would live past the age of
40. I would be the last to die. I would be killed by one of those
damn lorries - so, you see, it won't happen on a track." I was stunned.
He said
that at that time 3 of the original 8 had died as specified. I think
one of them might have been Gary Hocking because he said one was a
very good friend who had switched over to cars from bikes and been
killed racing. I wish I had remembered their names and the details
but I was too stunned by the thought that the man I loved was telling
me that he had, at most, 13 years to live.
I told him
that I hadn't been honest about my reasons for not marrying him. I
told him about my near-death experience and how I felt that I was
to be alone for about 10 years from that event ( 8 years to go from
1967 - interestingly both Mike and I married in 1975 - but not each
other ). We talked about my work and how gratifying it was. Mike said
that he would like to do something like that but was afraid of failing
because he said, "all I have ever known is being Mike Hailwood". The
instincts were definitely there but so too was the fear of the unknown
and unfamiliar. He offered to fund any project I wanted if I would
marry him. My heart was breaking but I told him that I felt that somehow
it wasn't meant to be that easy - that I had to sacrifice something.
What greater sacrifice could there be than not marrying my soul mate?
Then he
said something that haunts me to this day. " Maybe if I lived your
kind of life I wouldn't have to die and I could live to be an old
geezer".
I have since
spent many years in metaphysical studies and realize to my deep regret
that he was wiser than I was. We can all change our 'fates' by changing
the way we live. But I didn't understand at that time. He really wanted
to do something meaningful with his life as far as helping others.
I feel that in a way I let him down.
I remember
the first time I met Giacomo Agostini who raced for MV. Mike asked
me not to talk to him. He said, " He steals all my girls". Giacomo
was a very gallant gentleman around me. The teams were all staying
in the same small hotel, the Flying Dutchman, near the track. One
evening I was walking back to the dining room when I passed him in
the hall. He said in very heavily accented English. "You are very,
very good for Mike. He is different with you. You're a very nice,
very nice girl. I am happy for Mike."
Mike's Honda
teammate, Ralph Bryans was also very kind. He told me not to let Bill
Ivy hurt my feelings with his remarks. We only saw the others in passing.
Mike and I were generally alone talking.
One evening
Mike and I were alone in the dining room. A stunning redhead came
over to our table and asked for his autograph. Then she dangled her
room key in front of him and said that if he was bored later he should
knock on her door. He thanked her and said that he didn't expect to
be bored. When she left he said, with a laugh, -"you see what I have
to put up with". I laughed and said that I didn't think it looked
too onerous.
Mike started
talking about some of the women who were around racing. He said that
when he started racing he couldn't believe all the girls who were
throwing themselves at him and as he said he wasn't one to let the
opportunities go to waste. Mike said that he knew that I probably
thought he used them. "But", he said "it was mutual - they didn't
give a damn about me whether I was hurt, tired, worried or cold. They
just wanted to go back to their mates and brag that they had been
with Mike Hailwood. They weren't really with me."
I had never
thought of it that way before.
Mike was
famous for his practical jokes. On the day of the practice Mike wanted
to play a trick on Giacomo. I am short - 5'3" and today I have waist
length blonde hair. It wasn't quite that long then. I was wearing
black pants, sweater and ski jacket that day which he thought would
look like leathers from a distance. He had the idea that I should
ride the 500- 4 which he affectionately called the Beast because it
was like riding an unruly camel . Knowing what we now know about its
handling that was an outrageous idea. But, I trusted him. His idea
was that it would completely unnerve Ago to see a petite blonde riding
this awesome bike - never mind that it would also completely unnerve
the petite blonde! I sat on it and immediately there was a problem.
My feet didn't touch the ground - not even my toes. The Beast weighed
over 330 lbs.. I could only slide to one side and put one foot on
the ground. He asked me if I had ever ridden a motorcycle. I said
that one summer I rode a Honda 50 that was more like a scooter. In
a masterpiece of understatement he said, " It's the same thing."
Mike continued,
" It's really simple. There are five speeds. You shift out of first
at 55 and I don't want you going out of second." I was thinking to
myself - shift into second at 55! " How fast will this thing go?"
I asked. "Nobody knows for sure, but as light as you are - probably
200 on the back straight" was his nonchalant reply. (The 500 4 actually
had a six speed transmission. But Mike was always rather vague on
technical matters ).
The mechanics
were worried, especially Teddy. I don't know if they were more concerned
about having to explain to Mr. Honda how one of his bikes was smashed
or explaining to my mother how her daughter met a spectacular end!
Mike relented. What actually happened was that he took it back out
for a couple of record smashing laps and then quickly jumped off.
I jumped on, putting his goggles around my neck and his helmet on
my head and his gloves on my hands. I pointed to the front wheel pretending
to convey something of importance to the two mechanics who were surreptitiously
helping me hold up the bike. I wonder what Ago thought when he walked
by. Mike was in the back of the pits nearly doubled over with laughter.
It was a
strange time for Mike. This was the first Canadian Grand Prix and
was so discounted by the racing press that the usual crowd of reporters
and others didn't bother to attend. That was another reason we were
able to have so much time to be alone together. I teased him about
the fact that in spite of his reputation as a Don Juan we hadn't gone
much beyond kissing and lying together fully clothed on his bed just
talking. He replied that he was trying to prove that he wasn't a womanizer
and "besides you're not a race track dolly. I'm going to marry you".
Mike wanted
me to go back to London with him. He liked to tease me by reminding
me that I had said that I wouldn't walk across the room to meet him.
Once I said, " You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
He said, "No, I am going to tell our grandchildren your grandmother
once said she wouldn't walk across the room to meet me".
The practice
day had been cold and rainy. Mike was starting to feel ill from the
cold and dampness. By the afternoon we were both wet and cold. We
agreed that the best thing was for me to go home - about 70 miles
away and get out of my wet clothes. We were both going to rest and
then have dinner together. There was an unspoken understanding that
this might be the night when I wouldn't go home. He was going to call
me when he woke up from his nap. When I didn't hear from him I assumed
that he was sleeping and trying to recover his strength for the next
day's racing. It turned out that he did call. But, those were the
days before answering machines and caller ID so I didn't learn that
he had called until he told me the next morning. He has assumed that
I was getting sick too and had gone to bed.
I really
believe that Mike was the most profoundly lonely person I have ever
met. He hid it under a carefully maintained veneer of joviality. But
, there was a real sadness there. We talked about music a lot. Mike
told me that he often traveled with a clarinet because it was easy
to fit into a bag. I asked him if he would play for me. Mike said
that he had been in such a funk when he left London that he had forgotten
it. But, he promised that he would play for me one day. This becomes
important later on.
Mike teased
me about my earlier desire to be an engineer and jokingly said that
I should try to fix the awful handling of the Honda 500-4. He had
little interest in the technical side of racing and joked that now
he could stop worrying about it because he had his personal engineer.
My car accident had left me with very poor depth perception so I didn't
drive. I asked him if he minded that I couldn't drive and he said
that he drove enough for both of us. We talked about his experiences
in car racing. Mike talked about his fear of being trapped in a burning
car. He had survived numerous spills on bikes, sometimes being able
to pick up the bike and continue racing. He also felt that he wasn't
accepted in F1 racing because of his bike racing. Some of his friends
were racing cars or going into racing them. They wanted him to have
another go, but, he had strong reservations about it. Mike's previous
experience racing cars had been frustrating and discourgaging. I felt
that car racing was such a demanding sport that it didn't make any
sense to undertake it if it wasn't fulfilling. The only thing that
had really been fulfilling in his life, the only place where he felt
at home was in bike racing. He loved its relaxed informality, casual
atmosphere and the genuineness of the people.
One day
we were daydreaming about the future as lovers do. We talked about
where we might live and he suggested the Isle of Man, at least for
part of the year. His blue eyes sparkled whenever he spoke about the
Island. He loved the place, not just the racing, but , also the warm
- hearted people, the villages and the terrain of the Island. He described
it in such detail that he made me see it in my mind's eye. He even
told me about the wee folk, their legends and how important it was
to always honour them. Mike went into great detail about leaving gifts
of cakes and ale in certain places. He had a passion for the Isle
of Man that was contagious. It was the one place in the world that
his heart told him was home. Since I have a keen interest in the history
of ancient Britain I knew of the Island in that sense. But, he made
it come alive as an enchanted place in which to live. He planned to
show me his beloved Island the following spring before he raced in
the TT. That was not to be. Honda withdrew from racing at the end
of the 1967 season. Mike signed a contract with them not to race for
anyone else. He wouldn't race in the Isle of Man TT for another 11
years, but no one could have guessed that on a September evening in
1967.
Race day
was cold and wet - about 40 and drizzling. Mike and I were sitting
alone in a big rental sedan.
We talked about the missed communications of the night before. I told
him that it was probably just as well, because if we had spent
the night together I wouldn't have let him go back to London alone.
I said, " I guess I'm old-fashioned, but that's the way I feel". I
remember his reply.
With a laugh
he said, " Now you bloody tell me! Here I thought I was winning
points by being such a gentleman. Now you tell me, when I've
checked out of the hotel and the helicopter's been ordered to take
us to the airport right after the race. What am I going to
do with you?" Then he hugged me for a few moments without saying anything.
The pit
area was bustling with activity and we were quickly losing our privacy.
This was the coldest day of the week. The clouds cast the whole scene
in shades of gray.
Ralph Bryans
brought us some hot tea, which was most welcome. Mike left for a few
minutes. While he was gone Ralph told me that Mike had a ritual of
polishing his goggles endlessly to concentrate his mind before a race.
He said that Mike didn't talk at that time and Ralph didn't want me
to be hurt by Mike's silence. Ralph was extremely considerate.
Mike came
back and handed me something. " Here, I got you a tower pass - that's
where all the wives and girlfriends go." I said, with a laugh - "but,
I'm not your girlfriend and certainly not
your wife."
He just
shook his head and laughed too. He said, "you can be so stubborn".
"So" he
asked, "Where are you going to watch the race?"
I said "I'll stand behind the pits with the mechanics." He wanted
to know why. I said, "I want them to know that I appreciate what they
do for you."