If you're a motor racing fan you'll have no doubt noticed that Sir Stirling Moss, one of the all-time great drivers, is recuperating from a fall down an elevator shaft. When the doors opened to his third floor flat he was distracted by a conversation and stepped in without looking. Don't laugh… we've all done that once or twice. Unfortunately the elevator (or lift as it's called in the UK) was still at the floor above and Moss plunged three floors. Miraculously he survived, although with numerous broken bones in his feet and vertebrae. Stirling is seen in the photo with his wife, Lady Suzie Moss.
I was shocked when I read this as I had seen Moss from a distance at the Goodwood Revival last September, where he was honoured on the occasion of his 80th birthday. (Also my 80th but no one noticed.) It was quite the affair, with one of every car he raced on hand, a few of which he drove in demonstration laps. I would have enjoyed a brief word with Sir Stirling, inasmuch as I'd interviewed him more than once at Canada's Mosport circuit. Not that he would have remembered but at least it would have been an excuse to share birthday congratulations. Unfortunately, for reasons I needn't mention here, I missed the first day at Goodwood and having never been to the Revival, was totally confused. Added to an inherent shyness that prevents pushing my way into other people's parties, I missed a golden opportunity.
Moss appeared twice at Mosport, the first as a Grand Prix driver, the second in a two-parter for sports-racing cars. At the time of the GP I was hosting a radio program that featured motor racing. Wanting an interview but with no recording studio available I asked Stirling if he'd mind doing it in my VW Beetle. Always the gentleman, he had no objection. On the occasion of the two-part sports car race I was Mosport's track announcer. Stirling agreed to an interview between heats, this time in the announce booth. The moment the interview ended I excused myself, as I was driving in a support race for modified sedans. Moss was not in the least offended and offered to stay in the booth where he could watch from above. I finished third and for the only time in my life received prize money as a "professional." I soon spent the cash but will never forget being observed by one of the greatest. (Note: It's quite probable that Sir Stirling slipped away after a lap or two, but I wouldn't blame him for that, and still cling to the image, real or not.)
My final contact with Stirling Moss was mythical in that we never actually met. A decade after the Mosport incident I was an ad agency copywriter who'd been promoted from New York to London as creative director of the agency's European Accounts Group. I quickly became friends with David Barker, an art director who, like me, was a race enthusiast. David showed me a mews garage that belonged to Stirling Moss, the upper floor being his flat and the ground floor a repository for various racing automobilia. Many days, during our lunch break, we'd stroll past, hoping that the doors might be open, our hero available for a brief chat. Only once did we get a peek. Moss wasn't there but the mews garage was everything I'd imagined.
Obviously my connection with Stirling Moss amounted to little more than a touching of shoulders in a crowded street. But he was a memorable part of my past and so I hope you'll join me in wishing him a speedy recovery. "Speedy" being the operative word.