#Calvert Whiskey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessmisery666 · 1 year ago

Text

Best Con Ever

Summary: It’s all fun and games until the truth is revealed.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, drinking, silly stuff, Jared being an annoyingly good friend (seriously, he wouldn't shut up!).

W/C: 2,381.

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Alexander Calvert, Richard Richard Speight Jr.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Challenge/Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Prompt/Square Filled: Making fun of one another

Notes: Jensen is a single pringle for this one!

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: dividers - @talesmaniac89 / picture in title card - @lemondropsonice - they were kind enough to grant permission to use when I asked.

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

The special fan event is going so well. The intro includes party games, such as Pin the Wings on the Angel and Bowling with the Devil. The pins have pictures of demons from each season taped to them. There’s also a drinking game with “apple juice” because Jensen and Jared keep insisting “Jack” - Alex - isn’t old enough to drink yet. You’re a little buzzed, but it helps ease your nerves.

“Ah, you said Supernatural!” Alex exclaims, pointing at Jared, and the audience collectively yells, “DRINK!”

Shots of apple juice that smell suspiciously like whiskey this time get passed around until the four of you have one, and then, as one, you shoot them back.

“Woo,” Jensen yells, sucking his teeth as he turns his back to the audience and looks at you. “Don’t let me fall over.”

“Only if you do the same for me,” you laugh.

“I got you.” He turns to the audience again but puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side.

Of course, the audience immediately awws and gasps. “Oh shhh, you lot,” Jensen playfully scolds, “I’m just holding her up.”

“Wouldn’t want her falling now, would we?” Jared says. “Unless it's for you. Ba-dum-tss.”

He gets nothing from the band. The drummer shakes his head.

“Oh, come on!” He complains. “That was good!”

This is your first event since joining the show at the end of season eleven, but it is not the first time a potential off-screen romance has been mentioned. You have seen videos of panels where fans have asked the question, and you and Jensen have each been approached by fans on the street. With Jensen’s arm wrapped firmly around you, you are sure you can get through it without making a fool of yourself.

Jensen has been a wonderful source of support from the beginning. You had been nervous about how the fans would react because you replaced the wonderful Megalyn Echikunwoke as Cassie Robinson, Dean’s love interest from way back in season one. The inconsistencies in appearance had been loosely explained, and it was somewhat plausible in the world of Supernatural, but that didn’t bother you so much. Being Dean’s love interest was what worried you the most. The fans are so protective, and rightfully so.

“They’re going to love you,” Jensen had said when you aired your concerns. “Just like I…we do.”

He was right. The reception to the reintroduction of Cassie couldn’t have gone better. The fans loved it and accepted you and Cassie Robinson with open arms. You’d read some comments, heard second-hand from producers, and when the fans started an online petition - for fun - to get you and Jensen to date in real life after seeing behind-the-scenes footage, Jared dubbed himself the President of the “Jensen and Y/N should be a couple IRL” club.

You and Jensen played along with it. It helped ratings, and it wasn’t a chore to have Mr Ackles’ undivided attention at parties and dinners to play up to the rumors. But that's all it is: rumors. The two of you are close, on and off set, but whereas Cassie and Dean are super hot, you and Jensen are lukewarm. Hugging Jensen - though it happens often - unfortunately doesn’t lead to sex like it would with Cassie and Dean.

Richard announces it's time for the fan questions and asks those selected to form an orderly queue behind the microphone. Though the questions have been pre-approved, you get a wave of anxiety as you don’t know what they will be, and you hope this portion of the event goes as well as the rest of the day. A fan asks how your first meeting with the cast went, and you look sheepishly at Jensen.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes but sighs in defeat. “Fine, you can tell it.”

“Better yet, reenact it!” Jared suggests.

Your eyes light up with something akin to glee, and Jensen raises his brow and doesn’t need to ask the question in his eyes, ‘Really?’. You pout, bottom lip sticking out as far as it will go. “Please,” you draw out.

Reluctantly, making a show of it, and very slowly, Jensen gets to his feet, leaning closer to pretend to nip at your protruding lip.

Jared shakes his arms out as he stands up, “I’ll play Y/N.”

“The hell you will,” Jensen says, playfully pushing him out of the way. “Y/N will play herself.”

Jared comically falls over his chair to the ground as if Jensen’s push was twice the pressure it had actually been.

You stand up in front of Jensen and wait for the laughing audience to quiet down. Jared stands straight and holds his microphone close to his mouth. “It was a bright winter morning, not a cloud in the sky,” he narrates in a poor impression of David Attenborough’s voice. “The beautiful and elusive beast, Jensen Ackles, notices a radiant creature across the lot. Slowly, he approaches…”

Jensen shakes his head at the crowd and rolls his whole head along with his eyes but obliges the narrator. He walks the few steps and shakes your hand with way too much enthusiasm. “Hi, I’m Batman. Dean. Ackles. I mean …” he groans, trying to dismiss his embarrassment, then blushes and says, “Hi.”

You laugh again, as does everyone else. Jensen grimaces just as he did on the day. “I’m going to walk into the sun now, sorry.” he strides around you to the end of the stage, and Jared steps up to take his place.

Jared shakes your hand like a normal person. “Translation, that’s Jensen, for I think I just fell in love with you.”

Jensen, with his back to the two of you, throws a thumbs-up over his head. “It went exactly like that!” Jensen confirms, nodding and shrugging as he makes his way back to his seat. “And now that we’ve all relived my embarrassment, let's move on.”

The microphone gets passed to the next person, and they ask, “Jared and Jensen are known for their pranks. Have they played any on you, Y/N?”

“Oh yes!” you answer as Jensen takes his seat beside you and squeezes your knee. “I’m hanging like twenty feet in the air,” you begin.

“That’s like three Jared’s,” Richard adds, pointing to Jared on his left.

“Exactly,” you laugh, spreading your arms and legs out in a star to show the position you were in. “I’m full on Mission Impossible Tom Cruise-ing it, three Jared’s high off the ground, and the camera breaks.”

The audience reacts with grimaces and chuckles.

“They tell us it will be like ten minutes, and being the awesome trooper she is,” Jensen continues, flashing you a sweet smile. “She agrees to stay up there while they fix it.”

“Of course, it takes longer than ten minutes, so Jensen and I get bored!” Jared laughs, evilly rubbing his hands together.

“First of all, they decide to rub salt in the wound,” you shake your head, laughing at the memory. “They start doing lunges and star jumps, bragging about how comfortable and free they are.”

Jared and Jensen reenact their exercises, doing over-exaggerated lunges and squats, to laughter and catcalls.

“Stop it,” you say, around almost uncontrollable laughter. “You’ll split your pants.”

“Hey, watch it,” Jensen warns, pointing a finger, “my ass is not that big!”

“Your ass is just fine,” you smirk, the audience agreeing with whoops and hollers.

“You're not so bad yourself,” Jensen counters, winking.

“Hey, hey,” Richard chides, shouting over the raucous audience. “This is a family show.”

“ANYWAY,” Jared says loudly. “Then we used her as target practice, trying to throw Skittles in her mouth.”

“Let me tell you, at speed, those things are like bullets.” You explain, “I swear they chipped a tooth!”

“I’ll pay for any dental work,” Jensen confirms with a slight nod. “And to answer the question, Jared and I messed with the camera. We knew she’d get stuck up there.”

You shove his shoulder, and he teeters to one side before purposely overcorrecting himself so he’s lying across your lap.

“We still need to get him back for that one,” Alex reminds you.

Jensen scoffs, rising to sit up again. “You tried and failed. Give it up.”

You and Alex simultaneously declare, “Never!”

“Alex and I decided to team up and get them back,” you explain to the audience.

“They tried to get me,” Jensen says, “but Jared caught them, and he told me so it didn’t work. But they managed to get Jared,” Jensen begins laughing, unable to continue the story.

“All Y/N’s idea,” Alex insists, pretending to edge away from Jared.

Jared shakes his head, tongue sitting in the pocket of his cheek while he tries to look disgruntled but can’t hide the smile he tries to contain.

“It was genius,” Jensen manages around huffs of laughter.

“We got the wardrobe department to take in his shirts and shorten his pants a little each day for a month,” Alex says. “But it only took two weeks before he started complaining about gaining weight and growing taller.”

Jensen’s laughter stops, his demeanor turning completely serious. “I cannot tell you how annoying he was about it!”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Jared protests.

“Dude, you were bad!” Jensen counters, “You were googling if you could have a growth spurt after thirty. It’s all you talked about for two weeks. It was so annoying!”

“That’s me, Jared Annoying Padalecki,” he says. Then has a lightbulb moment, or perhaps a whiskey-inspired one, and jumps off the stage. Everyone laughs as they watch him cheekily shove to the front of the question queue, dropping to his knees.

“Hi, I’m Gen from Texas, and this is for Jensen,” he says in a higher pitched voice than anyone would expect could come out of the giant of a man. “I would like to know what your favorite scene to film was from the last season. And why is it the sex scene with Y/N from episode three?”

Jensen closes his eyes, face scrunched and lips pursed in mock annoyance as he flips Jared off.

“What a great question, Gen,” you chuckle, turning to stare at Jensen. “It was definitely one of my favorite scenes to film.”

“It was a fun day,” Jensen agrees. “Usually, sex scenes are super awkward and embarrassing, but it wasn’t. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a day in the back of Baby with all this,” he gestures toward Y/N, “on top of you.”

Jared gets to his feet, using a fan's shoulder to hoist himself up, and then bends to reach the microphone. “Follow-up question,” Jared begins, “this time for Y/N. Are you free for dinner tonight? Asking for a friend.”

“Oh, for a friend,” you say, leaning to look around Jensen and at Alex. “Well, in that case, I’m free anytime, Mr Calvert.” you wink.

Jensen leans forward, pointing a warning finger at him, “No!”

“Urgh, Alex,” Jared groans, using a long leg to step back onto the stage, “you’re such a troublemaker!”

The next fan is given the microphone. “So it’s been twelve seasons; what mementos have you taken from the set?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jared answers immediately, then sings, “Jensen’s in trouble. He stole the infamous demon Dean's red shirt.”

Jensen throws his hands up, shaking his head. “I did not! I don't know who did, but it wasn't me.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “So some ghost took it out of your trailer?”

“Maybe,” Jensen shrugs. “This is Supernatural.”

The drummer immediately punctuates his response, the hiss of the snare still echoing as Jared stands up in protest. But the audience is too quick, and they yell, “DRINK!”

“You lot are a bad influence,” Jensen tells them as you all make your way to the drinks table at the back of the stage.

You hold your microphone down while Richard pours the shots. Leaning closer to Jensen, you ask, “Are you really in trouble because of it?”

Jensen scoffs, “No, of course not. But they need it for a photo shoot, and they want to auction it off for charity. They’ve been on my ass for weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Jensen asks, very much channeling Dean in his expression. “Do you know something about it?”

You wince, trying to feign innocence, but it's no good. You know you’ve been caught out, and you’ll have to give it back. “I took it,” you confess.

“What? Why?”

You can’t think of a lie quick enough. So with a nonchalant shrug, that's all for show because you don’t feel it at all, you admit, “I like it. It's a nice shirt to sleep in, and it smells like you.”

“If you want something that smells like me, you can have me!” Jensen blurts out loud enough that the mics lowered at your sides pick it up.

The fans erupt, screaming and shouting. They get to their feet and clap. Alex and Jared talk over each other, but it all becomes white noise as you stare at Jensen, who stares back.

“Screw it,” he says, and you're the only one who hears it. But everyone sees him take a small step into your space and place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls back enough to look at you for any reaction, and when you lightly smile, he slips a hand down your cheek and draws you in closer for a deeper kiss this time.

The crowd goes wild. Your ears will be ringing for days.

Jensen keeps the kiss PG13, but you go as far as wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. It ends too soon, but you remind yourself that you are being watched. He leans back, smiling happily. “Sorry if that was out of line.”

“The only thing that was out of line was how long it took you to do that.”

He shrugs one shoulder, tongue sitting behind his teeth. “Sorry.”

Jared tries to get control of the audience, but it doesn’t work. Jensen walks to the edge of the stage and holds up a hand, silencing them with the simple gesture.

Once it's quiet enough, he smiles, boyish and wide. “Best. Con. Ever.”

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

Tags Info

Tag List: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @Pank0w / @kmc1989 / @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

#jacklesversebingo23 #jensen ackles #spn #con fic #fanfic #rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fluff #jared padalecki #alex calvert #jensen ackles con #convention #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #fluff #cons

285 notes · View notes

cazzyf1 · 1 year ago

Text

My favourite and interesting quotes from the book 'Challenge me the race' by Mike Hawthorn

We played football, hockey and cricket, but my cricket career was soon cut short. One Saturday afternoon, I went in as wicket-keeper, and while the batsmen were putting their pads on, the bowler sent down a practise ball, which thumped me hard on the nose - p15

When I was about thirteen, I went off into the woods with another boy to shoot rabbits; he had an air rifle, and I had an air pistol. He was leading the way, swinging the rifle backwards and forwards; as he swung it outward, I took aim at the butt to give him a bit of a surprise, but there must have been something wrong with the sights; the pellet went into his leg. We were not far from a church, so I whipped him into the churchyard and bathed his leg with the water from a flower vase. Eventually, I managed to squeeze the pellet out, and we both went home. Of course, his leg turned septic, but he talked his way out of it and his family never knew what happened. - p15

I always had a feeling I would like to play the trumpet, and after breaking-in as a bugler, I have since brought a trumpet. I doubt I shall cause Eddie Calvert any sleepless nights unless he happens to be in the next room while I am practising, and I do not aspire to emulate Johnny Cales, who was popular both a racing driver and a dance-band leader, but if the race-driving and the motor trade fail, I may still be able to make an honest coin - p15/16

While I was still an apprentice, my parents concluded that daily use of a motor-bike on the road would have to stop if I was to stay in this world - p17

I did not realise at the time but I took an awful shaking at Dundrod. I did not feel too bad at the time, but the next evening, I suddenly passed out and had to go to bed with whiskey and hot milk. My interior organs were in revolt against being thrown about like a stone bouncing down a tin roof, and this may have been the first sign of troubles for which I later had to have extensive repairs on the operating table - p25

I caught sight of Rodney and Mike Oliver, the Connaught development engineer, standing at Madgwick Corner, and I thought that on the next time around I would really show them what I could do. I did. When the car stopped spinning round and round, I realised that any hopes of driving a Connaught would have to be postponed for the time being. - p26

He produced a bottle of alcohol and started to swab it off with that. I nearly went straight through the ceiling with alcohol on a sort of raw wound. "We'll leave it alone, shall we?" I said eventually. - p47

After I had been in bed for a couple of days, everyone came to see me, Lance Macklin, John, and Laurel Heath, and a lot of Italians came to see me - one or two of them had been prisoners of war in England - and altogether everyone was very kind - p48

"There are two ways of getting rid of it: we can either leave it and let it go on its own accord; or we can stick a needle in you and drain it off." I said: "Thanks very much, I'll leave it and let it go away on its own." So they said: "Fair enough." - p48

I tried some ski-ing, but found it - and I did not reckon this at all - most dangerous, I thought, "No, this isn't for you, Hawthorn, leave it alone." I kept falling, and I could feel the bones of my leg bending; I did not fancy it at all. - p49

I hated the idea of being driven for long distances by other people, so I announced that I was going to drive and anyone who wished could sit in the back. The announcement did nothing to further amicable Anglo-American relations, but to my relief, the others did not argue the point - p72

Some time later, I emerged onto a deserted circuit, whence driver mechanics, spectators and officials had fled long since, and then I remembered that I had no transport. Our crippled race cars had been taken away in the vans, and my own car was at that moment standing outside the Le Mans railway station, as I had lent it to Farina, who had wanted to catch a train before the race ended. There was nothing for it but to start walking. After about a mile, I heard an old 2-litre Lagonda hurtling up the road behind me, so I thumbed a lift. The car screeched to abrupt stop, and I got in gratefully. By way of conversation, I said: "My father used to have one of these cars. They're jolly good, aren't they?" It was a mistake; thus encouraged, the driver tried to demonstrate that what I had said was indeed true and went weaving in and out of the traffic at a furious pace. We went hurtling up to the backs of trucks, braking late, with all wheels locked, and it dawned on me that he too had been celebrating-and rather too well. Sweating with fear, I frantically tried to keep the conversation going in the hope it would slow him down "Jaguars did a good job, winning at that speed," I said. "Yes, old boy," he replied, snatching another gear. "Drove those damned Ferraris right into the ground. Showed 'em how to drive." I had struck the right note and for the rest of the way into Le Mans he told me with much elaboration and adjective and expletive how a Jaguars had ground the pride of the Italians and their drivers into the dust. He got so interested in this that he forgot to drive so fast, which made me very happy, and I kept on agreeing with everything he said. He was kind enough to take me back to my hotel and as I staggered out of the car, surprised but happy at having arrived one piece, he said: "Hope we meet again some time. We might have a drink." "Yes," I said. "We might. Remember the name, it's Mike Hawthorn." The effect was wonderful. His face seemed to subside like a load of cement sliding out of a wheelbarrow. Oddly enough we did meet again that same night and we had several drinks together. P74

I think it was called Punta del Este - the hotel kept a line of horses for the use of guests. Maglioli and I decided to risk a trip on a couple one day; he selected a low-built job which kept his feet near to the ground, but I had a normal job. We went off into the woods, but after a while, I missed him and found that his steed had taken him up the drive of a private house to the front door. The owners did not seem to find it funny, but Maglioli knew a little Spanish and talked his way out of it. I was roaring with laughter, but in the middle of it, my mount started walking backwards - and kept on, no matter what I did. In the end, I had to jump off and stop it and get it started the normal way. - p100

I followed on a horse; it went lame fairly soon, and I had to take a stone out of it's hoof, after which it refused to do anything but take me back to the hotel. I tried tempting it with bits of sugar, but it simply stretched out its neck for the sugar and then doubled back every time, so after a lot of pulling and tugging, I gave up and asked for another horse, which would really take me where I wanted. They gave me another, something quite different. No sooner had I set foot in that stirrup than it was off, and nothing I could do would slow it down. Down the road we went, thundering past a Ford and a Jeep, with me, very frightened, holding on like grim death. It only slowed down when it got tired. I tested it - and myself - and then tried to start back for the hotel. It soon began to accelerate again, so I jumped off and led it the rest of the way, which must have been a couple of miles. That was the last time I rode a horse - p100/101

In Uruguay, we spent most of our time on the beach or in the casino, where I lost money regularly, but we made an interesting excursion to an island just off the coast which was absolutely covered in seals. In small numbers, seals are amusing creatures, but amongst this vast mass - it was the mating season, and fantastic battles were going on amongst the males, with bodies of former losers lying rotting on the beach and creating an appalling stench - we quickly lost our enthusiasm for nature study - p101

Like most fair-haired people, I get sunburnt very easily and surgery agonies from blisters, so I used these weeks in the sun to try and build up a resistance to it, gradually lengthening the exposure. I put up with weeks of pain and eventually acquired a dirty colour, which I hoped was the foundation of a handsome tan, but it all disappeared on the plane coming back to Europe and by the time I reached Italy, I was my normal pink self - p101

Stirling Moss had a room in a motel with a spare bed, so I moved in with him for the night, but we had an unhappy time as the sanitary system gave off a vile chemical smell - p102

Just before the race, there had been a lot of excitement in the papers about a statuette of the Madonna in a working man's home which was supposed to be weeping, and I had been taken along to see it on the exhibition in one of the public squares. There was an old woman there selling white flowers, and she had presented me with a sprig, saying, "Carry thus with you while you are racing." I put it in my breast pocket, and when I survived the crash, word got around that I was because of a flower. People came streaming into the hospital to see me. No one stopped them, and whole families crowded into the room, father, mother, and the children, just standing there silently gazing at me. I was finding it rather a trial. - p106

As I got stronger, I was given a pair of crutches so that I could hobble about a bit, but the pain under my armpits was excruciating, so I had a wheelchair instead. I soon worked out a few circuits round the corridor of the hospital and started timing myself round them with my wrist stopwatch, but it was decided that I was a menace to hospital staff, who might be carrying bottles or bed-pans, so the wheelchair was taken away, and I had to persever with crutches - p107

My face had been scorched by the flames, and I had grown a beard and moustache, but they were not very successful, so I shaved them off when I was fit enough to move about again - p108

Jenny lent me a Guzzi motor scooter, which enabled me to get around and see a number of people I knew, but after one late party with Captain Johnny Johnson of B.O.A.C. and some other airline pilots, I found I was not nearly as strong as I thought and had some explaining to do to the doctor next day - p108

The girl behind the bar said that Reuters had been trying to find me. They soon came through again and asked if I was going to England to see my father. "Why should I be going?" I asked, "Don't you know?" They replied, "He's had an accident." It was obviously pretty bad, so I got through to the garage at Farnham and learned from one of the girls in the office that my father had had a car crash the night before; there was not much hope for him. The planes to England that night were fully booked out, but Bernard Cahier, the journalist, got me first refusal on the last plane of the day, and I rang Farnham to say I hoped to arrive that night. They told me that my father had died a few minutes before. - p109

I knew perfectly well that, having just lost my father, she (Mike's mother) would have liked nothing better than to see me give up racing immediately, especially knowing how badly she was affected when she saw me in hospital in Rome, and I shall always admire the courage with which she faced up to that difficult decision - p111

The woods are barred to the public during the race, and the Swiss police use fierce Alsatian dogs to enforce the ban. One of them went for me, snarling and snapping, and it took the policeman in charge of it some time to calm it down. Life as a professional racing driver has lots of risks which have nothing to do with motor cars. P122

On the last day of practise, Collins, cornering fast on the Vanwall, was caught out by oversteer, slid into a sandbank and flipped over. A few minutes later, Moss came in with the back end of his Maserati crumpled. I laughed at the two of them, saying, "You simply shouldn't do that sort of thing." I then went out to try and do a fast lap in the Squalo, lost it on a corner at the top of the hill and spun backwards into the straw bales, smashing up the tail end. - p128

Ever since I was seventeen, I had suffered intermittent pain in my back and I mentioned it to my doctor when I got back to England after recovering from the Syracuse burns, and he sent me to a specialist who diagnosed kidney trouble and said I would have an operation in the end of the racing season - p130

I staggered from the pit, saying I was finished with racing and was not going to get in the car again. I suppose I was near hysteria as a result of shock; coming on top of the concentrated nerve strain of the previous two hours, I was led away by Duncan Hamilton and his wife Angela, who took me to their caravan, sat me down and put a drink in my hand while Duncan talked to me like a father, trying to calm me down. When he had seen all the team cars refuelled, Lofty England came over to see how I was, and I again said that I was not going to drive again, but Lofty said quite firmly, "Oh yes you are! You're going to go out there and finish the race. It's the only thing you can possibly do!" - p152

I knew I must break free before it landed again, or I should be finished. Suddenly, there was a feeling of utter relief. I had broken free and was alone in mid-air. It was quiet, and I seemed to be floating in space, defying the law of gravity. Then, the bone-jarring shock as I hit the ground. - p173

I was taken to a doctor in Towncester who proposed to stich up the wound on my face. I said: "No you don't" - p175

Why Klemantski (photographer) was not run down by my Cooper-Bristol we shall never know - p177

I was being hustled from all sides, so I retaliated and shunted somebody off the course; it turned out to be Ivor, who had lent me his car, and he gave me a very old-fashioned look afterwards - p192

It would be idle to pretend that racing drivers are always perfect guests from the hotelier's point of view, and that night, the hotels' magnificent fire precautions, consisting of highly polished devices like stirrup pumps in gleaming copper-bound tubs, provided an irresistible temptation. A hosepipe battle developed in which a good deal of water fell wide of the primary objectives. At breakfast next morning, one of the race officials appeared and obviously had a problem on his mind. It was obvious what the problem was, so after an exchange of pleasantries, we said: "Well, how much is it?" He was immensely relieved and said: "Thank you, gentlemen! If you wouldn't mind leaving a little something at the desk when you go, the bill will be sent later," we did, and a mutually acceptable figure was ultimately agreed upon - p193/194

I struggled convulsively and then must have been knocked out, for I remember no more until I heard someone moaning and groaning. I wondered who it might be until it dawned on me that I was the person making all the fuss. Spectators rushed up, and one started trying to comfort me, saying over and over: "It's all right, Mike, you're all right." "How the devil does he know?" I asked myself - p194

I sent Ferrari a telegram saying: "I am interested if you are," to which he replied saying he was interested - p197

I gave myself a bad fright through over-estimating my powers of seamanship while returning from a party late one stormy night in a borrowed cabin cruiser - p201

After that, I went back to flying and took von Trips up in a Piper Cub to get some ciné pictures. He wanted to shoot some scenes of the river and the yachts, so I took him down low and was just thinking that this would be an awful place to have to make a forced landing, when the engine cut. Below us was nothing but water and semi-jungle; not a possible landing place for miles. I was just debating the chances of survival in a ditching when I glanced down and saw that the throttle had shut. The machine had dual control, and von Trips had caught his elbow against the lever as he leaned out of the window with his camera - p201

I did not think I could possibly last through the second heat, but I got someone to drill a lot of holes into my crash helmet, swallowed some salt tablets, and put on a light sleeveless pullover. Musso had fallen ill with the stomach trouble, which was to keep him out of racing for some time to come, so Peter took his car, and Masten Gregory moved into Peter's car. I again made the silly gear change mistake, and so did Peter and some of the others...I was so exhausted by the heat that I slowed down and was passed by Fangio, Behra and Peter Collins. I would gladly have signed an undertaking never to go motor racing again and at the end of the race was practically prostrate. Yet Peter was as lively as a cricket. I said: "That was a pretty good effort Pete." "Yes," he replied. "Weren't those pills wonderful?" "What pills?" said I, and then I learned that while I had been monopolising the shower, a doctor had been round distributing heat pills which had made everyone but me more or less immune to the heat - p202

Before the race, Peter and I had arranged, we would put on a bit of a show for the crowd, and he said: "I'm happy if we go over the line side by side; if you have the lead, you win, and I will come in second because I won at Syracuse." I thought this was a very fair thing to say, and we took it in turns to take the lead and were pushing each other fairly hard - p209

I left Modena with Trintignant, and he drove me up in his Renault Dauphine. The road from Genoa to Monaco is very difficult and twisty, but these Renaults are fantastic little motor cars, and he drove it flat out the whole time. Knowing that I am a very nervous passenger, he did the usual trick, waiting until I was just dozing off and then suddenly putting the brakes hard on, which scared the daylights out of me as I thought we were about to hit something. I did wake up once to see the back of a large lorry looming in front of my face, but that was the only time we ever seemed to be in any real danger of hitting anything. - p212

I hit the pole barricade running along the edge of the quary, and the car rode up high, then crashed down on top of Peter's car, where my wrecked front suspension missed his head by inches. Peter leapt out, running like a deer across the road, and I followed while the tail-end cars went whizzing by. I was so relieved to find no one hurt that I burst out laughing, but it was no laughing matter. - p214

There was no time to see if the Maserati had been rolled over or not, and I was very worried about Stirling until I saw next lap that the car was intact except for the missing wheel - p217

I dropped in at Deauville, where there was an air rally, and I was faced with the problem of finding a dinner-jacket for a party on the Sunday night. One of the people at the hotel gave me the address of some people who would hire me a suit. This turned out to be a laundry and dry cleaners. We ran through what seemed to be the customers' clothes until we found a jacket and a separate pair of trousers which fitted me approximately. The trousers were too long even for me, so the legs were turned up, and someone lent me a tie. That left me with the problem of shoes so I took my racing shoes, which were an oil-soaked brown, had then blacked and turned up the picture of the elegant man about town - p222

I motioned to Peter to come alongside and pointed behind us with thumb down to indicate that Fangio seemed to be in trouble. He nodded, put his thumb up, then pointed to me with one finger and back to himself with two. He wanted me to win and was prepared to come second himself, which I thought was a very sporting gesture - p227

Peter and his wife left their car at Colouge and flew with me in the Gull. We stayed one night in Hamburg and took off the next morning, but we had only got to about 2,000 feet when the engine cut dead. We looked at each other, rather worried, for below us were water and docks and steamers. Louise, who was sitting in the back reading a book, buried herself in that and refused to look out. Fortunately we had sufficient height to turn, and I decided to try and guide back to the aerodrome. As I did so, the engine began firing again on three cylinders, and I picked the longest runway for the forced landing. - p229

Bernard Cahier, the journalist and photographer who usually manages to be present with his camera when racing incidents take place, had faithfully recorded his 1956 excursion into the cornfield and boasted that he would get some more pictures if I repeated the performance this year. Unfortunately, I did run off there quite early when the breaks started fading away, and he got the picture. Well, I did it again later in the race I was relieved to see there was no photographer in sight, but Cahier had got it again...from a helicopter - p231

Our team consisted of Collins and myself, Musso and von Trips, the latter now wearing an imposing beard - p232

The prospects looked grim as the island contained nothing but the airfield, a few houses and a single-storey hotel with camp beds and very simple furniture. But a film show was put on for us - with very old films, but perhaps no older than we get on television - and in the evening, a Spanish girl came along to entertain us with songs and dances, so thay we had quite the merry party - p240

#i love mike and his funny commentary #all the situations he got into #so many near plane crashes lmao #nearly died when reading he got banned from racing his wheelchair around the hospital #classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #vintage f1 #mike hawthorn

19 notes · View notes