Andy Priaulx: The Autobiography of the Three-time World Touring Car Champion

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

To Jo, Seb, Dannii and family.

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

Foreword

1 Into The Unknown

2 Dubai: Mission Accomplished

3 Hard Times At Silverstone

4 A Guernseyman Forever

5 Survival Of The Fittest

6 Family Matters

7 Stubborn As A Mule

8 I Am A Racing Driver

9 Making A Name For Myself

10 Earning A Living

11 Racing Into Europe

12 Finding My Edge

13 Macau: Beating The Odds

14 Staying At Home

15 And Now?

Andy Priaulx Career

Index

Acknowledgements

Copyright

About the Publisher

FOREWORD

by Dr Mario Theissen, BMW Motorsport Director

WHEN I WAS TOLD BY BMW GB that they wanted to sign Andy Priaulx for their assault on the European Touring Car Championship I must admit I had not heard a great deal about him. I was soon to learn about his challenges to get recognised in the motorsport world and how he would go on to be a great ambassador for motorsport and BMW.

Having brought home four titles for BMW his success for the Team has been well recognised, and in securing matching manufacturer’s titles we too have proven our status in the competitive world of touring car racing.

What this book spells out is the unrelenting resolve of Andy to achieve the very best results from not only himself but his team and those around him, ensuring that everyone is working to the aim of winning.

Andy has had a fantastic grounding in finding his own sponsorship to survive and pursuing self-taught disciplines to gain impressive results. These qualities allow him to pass his experiences on to our young drivers in Formula BMW, where he has been a chief instructor, and also to the many around the paddock to whom he is always giving encouragement.

After visiting his home in Guernsey on holiday and thoroughly enjoying the experience, it was even more evident to me the work that Andy has put into motor racing. He has come from an island with no race circuit but a great grassroots motorsport heritage; his raw talent developed on the Val des Terres hillclimb amongst granite walls and unforgiving barriers has flourished on the international stage as Andy has risen to become World Champion.

Andy has had to work hard and sacrificed almost everything to achieve his goal. However, he has maintained a personable and totally approachable demeanour and continues to be a terrific mentor for the young drivers of the future, backed totally by his family and a loyal group of friends. His story opens your eyes to how dreams can be achieved.

1 INTO THE UNKNOWN

‘I was just a lad from Guernsey, in an old car, who was driving up the road chasing a dream’

WE ALL WEPT. THE OTHERS MIGHT NOT ADMIT SO NOW, but they did. And it was all my fault. I was leaving home and honestly didn’t have a clue where I was going or what I was going to do. I wanted to get away from Guernsey and make something of myself. I was aiming for Silverstone. I was determined to get to Formula One. I wanted to be a professional racing driver. And I believed I could be…

Looking back now, I realise I was so young and inexperienced. I was still just a kid. I had this big idea in my head and I was intent on making it happen. At least I was being true to type. I am a Guernsey man, a stubborn so-and-so, and I was simply behaving as we all do on my home island – in part, acting like a mule.

My dad Graham, mum Judy and sister Fiona, all the family, my friends and my beautiful fiancée Jo…they were standing there in the harbour, and watched and waved as the boat pulled away. The tears flowed a bit. They knew what I wanted and how much I had sacrificed. I think they understood. I was heading off to chase my dream, leaving everyone behind and hoping for the best.

Who could tell what the future held. Did I have the speed? The character? The talent? The raw ability that everyone needs to succeed in motor racing? One thing I certainly did not have was the money. I had a little profit from some used car sales – not much, although probably just enough to live on for a couple of months. But, more importantly, I had my dream and my self-belief.

The sea rolled and the old Commodore ferryboat carried us out into the English Channel. I felt churned up inside but excited and feeling all manner of conflicting emotions: I wanted to stay with everyone…yet I wanted to go. Although I had previously been away at weekends racing, I’d usually had my family with me, and I had certainly never before been in a situation like this, going to live in another country on my own.

But I was fired by ambition and determined to give it my best shot. Reaching the top for me in those days meant Formula One because I had watched it on television. And if I could not make it to Grand Prix racing, I would still climb as near to the racing summit as I could.

I had my old Volvo estate with me on the ferry and a Hobby caravan, both of which I had bought to live in during the next chapter of my life. And that was it. I would sleep in the caravan – bought cheap on the mainland – and live that way until I could find my feet. That was the plan…

I looked back to the shore. I could see the faces and expressions. Then I could just about make out the shapes and outlines of each one. And then those shapes blurred until all I could see was the Guernsey shoreline. Gradually, the island began to recede from sight and the open sea took over. I tightened my jaw.

As I stood there, on the slow boat crossing over to the English mainland, I thought of the many Guernsey refugees who had fled before the Germans occupied our island during the Second World War. Then it was old folk, children and families fleeing the German soldiers. I am no great historian but I love my home island and I knew England had always been our ‘safe refuge’, a place to grow up and seek opportunities. So, like many before me, I was following a long-established Guernsey tradition. I was seeking my fortune across the sea.

I had always been a big motorsport fan as had most of my family. But none of us had attempted this before. And, contrary to a lot of ill-conceived rumours and tittle-tattle, I was not remotely wealthy. My family was just an ordinary, hard-working, Guernsey clan; indeed, the Priaulx name can be traced back in the history books to the far-off days of William the Conqueror. My mum worked, played the piano and was involved with the church. My dad ran a garage, the family business. He was a real hard-working guy. My granddad, Skip, did the same. And they were both racers. They enjoyed life and did well, but neither was born with a silver spoon in sight. And nor was I.

My granddad raced up and down the beaches in the old days – they used to call it sand racing – tearing around out there when the tide was out. He had a yellow car known as ‘the flying banana’ and as we grew up we loved to hear all the stories. My dad was a fast driver, too – a winner and record-breaker on the hillclimbs. When I was a kid I helped him prepare his cars, dressing up in a set of red racing overalls to do the polishing and spannerwork.

I suppose, because of all that, motorsport was in my blood. I loved skateboards, bikes, karts, motorbikes and anything that moved fast really. I took part in motocross, and went out boating. I grew up outdoors, climbing, running, playing sport and racing around on anything I could lay my hands on. I had a few scrapes, but nothing put me off climbing back on board whatever the vehicle was to have another go. My mum, admittedly, was not always best pleased about that!

I always remember discovering Formula One and getting hooked on it. I recall watching Gilles Villeneuve with my dad and thinking that I’d love to be doing something like that. I don’t think, if I am honest, that I have ever held any ambitions outside of motor racing. I just wanted to race. I loved anything with an engine and a throttle: a motorbike, a car, a powerboat – such machines were a real temptation to me. My gut feeling, as I grew up, was that it was fun and I just wanted to play a bit. But as I started to think more about my future, I realised that maybe I had a bit of talent. I wanted to maximise that and so I had a real burning desire to push myself forwards.

As the boat chugged on, I reflected on all these things. My granddad was a big influence as, too, was my dad. But I think the one thing that drove me to grab my chance to leave Guernsey and seek my fortune came when I saw my granddad lying sick in hospital. At the time I was working for my father at the garage as a sort of car-valet man, salesman, mechanic and general dogsbody. I was doing whatever it took to make money and keep things going. Like all the Priaulx clan I was, and have always been, a very hard-working fellow.

I remembered that my granddad looked so ill and I thought if ever I found myself in that situation I would want to have lived my life to the maximum. I think that was the spark for me, and the really strong feeling to leave the island came there and then. In that way, my granddad was my inspiration. He supported me, and my racing, and he loved it. I had been away to France, to a racing school at Magny-Cours just a while before, so I was really motivated and keen.

A friend of mine, Bill Bristow, had found the caravan for us. I say ‘us’ because Jo, my then fiancée, and me had planned everything: I would go to England first and get established and she would follow later. Jo and I have always been a team and make all our decisions together. She would stay and work to try and build up as much of a financial reserve as she could and then join me. We had no idea how it would work out.

We decided on the caravan because it made sense. We did not have much cash to throw around and I had no job waiting for me. The caravan was 15 years old and I paid something like £1,500 for it.

My dad was very supportive, always 100 per cent behind me. He thought it was the right move to go to the United Kingdom to learn all about circuit racing. He knew I had the speed – from my hillclimb career – and felt the best place to learn would be at a race circuit, or as close as I could get to one. Well, living inside Silverstone in a caravan would be just the ticket! I’d had a bit of a special memory of Silverstone, too, from watching the British Grand Prix in 1987 when Nigel Mansell won following a titanic tussle with Nelson Piquet, his Williams team-mate. He had also won at Brands Hatch in 1986, again after a big battle with Piquet, and because of his determination he has always been one of my heroes.

I also knew Jo would support me, of course. She and dad would always be there on the end of the phone when I needed them. My dad always told me that the Priaulxs were risk-takers – people who wanted to push the boat out as far as possible. My granddad was just the same. He took big risks in business in Guernsey, such as acquiring the Fiat agency in the fifties, and succeeded. So I had to get it together. That meant being in the right place at the right time. I knew it would be no easy challenge.

As I sat on the boat looking back and thinking ahead, I knew that had I stayed in Guernsey I would always have been known as ‘Andy Priaulx – Graham Priaulx’s son’. And I did not want that. My dad was well known for his garage, his work and his racing – he had quite a reputation on the island. But I wanted to be myself, not just another Priaulx.

I knew that when I Ieft Guernsey I would be leaving everything behind me. I would be starting a new life, yet I still felt very sad. I had all the doubts I expected to have, about leaving the family and the family business. My dad had taught me a lot. I knew how to sell, present myself and set up deals.

Take the caravan, for example. You are not really allowed to have a caravan in Guernsey so I had to be careful how I brought it in and used it. Obviously, I was not using it for tourism! I was going the other way. I cleaned and serviced it, made sure the gas worked and hooked it up. I then filled it with supplies and connected it to the Volvo. And my ticket? I had negotiated a deal with the boat company to travel for free, but I had to go on the slow boat that took six or seven hours to make the crossing. But that was just typical of how I did things then. I liked making deals, being decisive and trying to make things happen.

I realised, too, that it was probably a relief for my family, and my dad in particular, to know I had made the decision to go to England. While working at the garage I was also concentrating on phoning teams and finding sponsorship for my racing career. To be honest, the wages I was asking my dad for were too high. I knew that much.

My mum did not really feature in the decision-making at all. She was just happy doing her church work and playing her music, and making sure there was dinner on the table. She did not want to be involved that much. But I knew she would miss me as I would her. We had always been close. And, of course, there was Jo. My life had changed after meeting her. I just felt sure, with Jo, I could achieve my dreams.

There was no welcome party and no tears when I arrived in England. As I drove off the ferry at Portsmouth I was excited at the prospect of the adventure that lay ahead, even though I had no idea how it would turn out. There I was, in the old Volvo, pulling the old caravan, and heading north away from the coast. It was a bit of a heart-tugging moment. I was hardly driving a fast car and looked like anything but a racing driver as I drove towards Silverstone. And I did not know, after Jo had sold the little house we had bought in Guernsey, how much we would struggle desperately for money and find it difficult to survive at times.

I feared it might be difficult, but I was confident that I had it in me to succeed. I had to make it work. I had to believe in my talent, secure deals, get sponsors and build my career. There were debts from the previous year but – little did I know then – there were to be much bigger and more daunting financial worries ahead of me as I struggled to find my way up the motor racing ladder. People would perhaps laugh at me, but I was determined to prove myself, just as I had done at school when I was the victim of bullying. Then I had to learn to defend myself and survive. This was going to require the same mindset, but quite different skills.

I knew I had a lot to learn and a lot to prove. I had taken such a big risk but I had convinced myself it was a calculated gamble. After all, how many young men of my age – I was then only 23 – would leave a place as isolated and remote as Guernsey to live in a caravan on another island without a confirmed job or any source of income? And all because I reckoned I had enough speed and skill as a racing driver to make it. Looking back, I am not sure I would have done it if I knew then what I know now.

And I was a Guernsey lad. That meant I was used to living in a place where everyone, in general, trusted one another and where we never really locked up our homes; we always left doors and windows open because we knew it was relatively safe. It was the same with cars and car windows. You just did not believe, let alone expect, that anyone would ever think of stealing from you, your home or your car. Crime like that was so rare as to be exceptional in Guernsey.

It was very different as I drove up the A34 looking for somewhere to rest, eat and stretch my legs. It was busy, crowded, and just not as easy-going. I was wet behind the ears all right. I was new to all this, and had to adjust and learn a few things fast. Living in England was going to be very different from staying in Guernsey. The people were different. The way of life was different. And attitudes were very different. It was not as friendly and certainly nothing like as laid-back as I had been used to.

I was just a lad from Guernsey, in an old car, who was driving up the road chasing a dream. Had it not been for my family and some very important friends who had backed me, however, I would not have even been there. Like any other aspiring racing driver, I owed a lot of people a lot of favours and, in many cases, quite a lot of money. But, like me, they believed in my talent – or at least they believed I had enough to stand a chance of making the big time and repaying my debts.

I have always been someone inspired by facing adversity. That is when I am at my strongest. I dig deep, and can find inner strengths to fight back and win. I was not one of the biggest of kids, but I was pretty wiry and tough, and have always been strong for my size. I am tough mentally, too. That’s another byproduct of being bullied at school and learning to look after myself. I don’t let things defeat me in advance – instead I will work out my own way of winning, making sure I know what I am going to do. I can visualise things and use that technique to help me succeed.

Back then, though, as I drove up through the English counties, I could not even visualise where I was going to park the caravan that first night. Or if it would be safe. Or how I would get to sleep. Did I know how to park up easily and legally? Did I have enough food? How was I going to get started on the job? The motor racing season was about to start. I had some contacts and plenty of ideas but nothing in this business is definite…I knew that. Yet I had so much enthusiasm, belief and desire that I knew I would get there somehow, one way or another. If I am honest, I don’t think I even cared how I would do it. I just knew I would succeed, whatever it took…

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