Three men in a GT40?
The thread about the larger gentleman fitting into a GT40 reminded me about the only time I ever had a ride in a real one.
It was the early Seventies and as my Dad was driving out of Norwich one day he spotted a familiar shape peeking out from under a car port beside a modest bungalow. The next time he went past the GT40 was parked on the roadside and Dad stopped for a chat.
He eventually managed to persuade the very nice man who owned it, a Mr Basted, to give me a ride. I was at college at the time and my main motoring claim to fame was I had won the Norfolk slot car racing championship driving a 1/32 nd scale GT40!
Anyhow, best mate John insisted on coming along to watch, and we arrived at the bungalow on a Sunday morning. I was beside myself with excitement and also despair when the bloody thing refused to start for ages!
It was blue metallic with a silver stripe, and still with the full Weslake engine etc just as it had raced. (I think it was ex-Ford France but couldn't swear to that, details are a bit blurred after 30 years!)
Eventually after lots of pops, bangs and farts, there was that glorious noise when all eight cylinders chimed in together, and she was backed out into the road.
As I prepared to get in Mr Basted glanced at the crestfallen John and suggested we try and fit him in as well!
Let me explain that John and I are both on the small side, and after a year's subsistence on our student grants (remember those?) were not exactly overweight.
The right hand gear change helped of course, and with much grunting and cursing John and I managed to squeeze into the left hand seat and close the door above our heads. Not an experience I would want to repeat, but the pain was soon forgotten as we joined the traffic heading out of Norwich.
Amazingly the full race engine proved remarkably tractable, pulling without much conviction and bit of fluffiness from around 2000 revs. Above 3000 the Ford V8 began to get interested and above 4000 she flew!
I am a very nervous passenger and about the only thing I had to hang on to was John's beard , but Mr Basted proved an excellent driver. The only change he had made for the road was a larger steering wheel.
Eventually we reached the road running around the perimeter of RAF Coltishall. He turned the GT40 round, raised the revs to about 5000 and moved his foot sideways off the clutch.
If you have ever experienced a full house start in a race GT40 you will know what we felt, if you haven't, forget it - there's nothing like it.
Bear in mind I drove an 850 Mini at the time and John an Austin A40 with an extra 100 cc's of pulsating power!
The acceleration was as fierce as it was relentless and the speed seemed to build as quickly above 100 as below.
On the way back we left a 30 mph limit following a Morris 1000 van. As the road cleared we passed him in a blur of noise to leave the van weaving down the road. Mr Basted explained that on the up-change a sheet of flame shot out of the exhaust! I don't suppose the van driver could have spotted the 40 inch high GT in the rear view mirror. He must have thought an RAF jet had landed beside him!
After a drive of about 30 miles we returned to Mr Basted's, who then gave my Dad a quick run the road as well. What a gent!
That's the last time I ever saw that GT40 - but the experience has remained with me ever since - prompting a lifelong love affair with GT40s. And that slot car racing GT40? It was red with a white stripe - just like the KVA I drive now!
Oh and John and I met up last year after a gap of 25 years. He rides a big Moto Guzzi these days and is a TV news defence correspondent. He did do one thing for me all those years ago, he introduced me to the future Mrs Mason.
The thread about the larger gentleman fitting into a GT40 reminded me about the only time I ever had a ride in a real one.
It was the early Seventies and as my Dad was driving out of Norwich one day he spotted a familiar shape peeking out from under a car port beside a modest bungalow. The next time he went past the GT40 was parked on the roadside and Dad stopped for a chat.
He eventually managed to persuade the very nice man who owned it, a Mr Basted, to give me a ride. I was at college at the time and my main motoring claim to fame was I had won the Norfolk slot car racing championship driving a 1/32 nd scale GT40!
Anyhow, best mate John insisted on coming along to watch, and we arrived at the bungalow on a Sunday morning. I was beside myself with excitement and also despair when the bloody thing refused to start for ages!
It was blue metallic with a silver stripe, and still with the full Weslake engine etc just as it had raced. (I think it was ex-Ford France but couldn't swear to that, details are a bit blurred after 30 years!)
Eventually after lots of pops, bangs and farts, there was that glorious noise when all eight cylinders chimed in together, and she was backed out into the road.
As I prepared to get in Mr Basted glanced at the crestfallen John and suggested we try and fit him in as well!
Let me explain that John and I are both on the small side, and after a year's subsistence on our student grants (remember those?) were not exactly overweight.
The right hand gear change helped of course, and with much grunting and cursing John and I managed to squeeze into the left hand seat and close the door above our heads. Not an experience I would want to repeat, but the pain was soon forgotten as we joined the traffic heading out of Norwich.
Amazingly the full race engine proved remarkably tractable, pulling without much conviction and bit of fluffiness from around 2000 revs. Above 3000 the Ford V8 began to get interested and above 4000 she flew!
I am a very nervous passenger and about the only thing I had to hang on to was John's beard , but Mr Basted proved an excellent driver. The only change he had made for the road was a larger steering wheel.
Eventually we reached the road running around the perimeter of RAF Coltishall. He turned the GT40 round, raised the revs to about 5000 and moved his foot sideways off the clutch.
If you have ever experienced a full house start in a race GT40 you will know what we felt, if you haven't, forget it - there's nothing like it.
Bear in mind I drove an 850 Mini at the time and John an Austin A40 with an extra 100 cc's of pulsating power!
The acceleration was as fierce as it was relentless and the speed seemed to build as quickly above 100 as below.
On the way back we left a 30 mph limit following a Morris 1000 van. As the road cleared we passed him in a blur of noise to leave the van weaving down the road. Mr Basted explained that on the up-change a sheet of flame shot out of the exhaust! I don't suppose the van driver could have spotted the 40 inch high GT in the rear view mirror. He must have thought an RAF jet had landed beside him!
After a drive of about 30 miles we returned to Mr Basted's, who then gave my Dad a quick run the road as well. What a gent!
That's the last time I ever saw that GT40 - but the experience has remained with me ever since - prompting a lifelong love affair with GT40s. And that slot car racing GT40? It was red with a white stripe - just like the KVA I drive now!
Oh and John and I met up last year after a gap of 25 years. He rides a big Moto Guzzi these days and is a TV news defence correspondent. He did do one thing for me all those years ago, he introduced me to the future Mrs Mason.
