So this is the 1982 race. I love the conversation George and Karen have because you get the feeling that George is thinking to himself "How do I know this girl?" "She knows about my family....where have I met her before?" She didn't talk to him like a fan, going on and on about his records. Instead she took the wise route and talked to him about his kid, because what Dad doesn't want to brag on his son?
This story was written by Patti Murawski and Karen Dyson for the July 1982 issue of the Harrison Alliance.
A Vacation Surprise
Le Grand Prix de Long Beach 1982
By Patti Murawski and Karen Dyson
I’ve been taking an annual holiday in Los Angeles for many
years to visit family and some very dear friends. Each year I make it a point to try to include
the Long Beach Grand Prix on my itinerary, F-1 motor sport being one of my
passions.
So on the sunny weekend of the Long Beach Grand Prix, as
qualifying was taking place on Friday, I was walking along, absorbed in my
photography, really enjoying myself. It
felt good to be in Long Beach in the electric atmosphere of the Formula One
Circus and in the strong southern Californian sun. It was about to blizzard 12 inches of snow
there! So here I was minding my
viewfinder, when I looked up for a moment, only to spy a familiar looking
figure. I stood there for a minute,
convincing myself that I was seeing things.
He was trying so hard to be invisible in the shelter of the massive crowd,
but there was no doubt – standing some 25 feet away was George.
I almost didn’t give that familiar figure a good long
look. When I first saw George he had his
back to me. No, I thought, it couldn’t
be. He turned his head to speak to
someone beside him – I could see his profile now. The fact that he was quite tanned, lacked a
mustache and had his hair cut in a different, shorter style, combined with the
ever-present sunglasses, helped to disguise him.
He seemed to be trying deliberately to blend in with the crowd. Dressed in running shows, jeans, t-shirt and
blue jacket, he was quite successful at being indistinguishable from the community
of drivers, mechanics, owners, journalists, photographers, and hangers-on. In fact, I wondered if he had walked directly
past me without my noticing!
I stood there for a few minutes and, seeing how he was
absorbed in watching the last minutes of qualifying, I figured he wasn’t likely
to leave yet, so I immediately went to track down my friends. I found Jennie and Kris easily enough, but
Karen had gone wandering off and was nowhere to be found.
When we returned he hadn’t budged, thank goodness! He didn’t go wandering around at all, which was very unusual. He kept close to the track wall, keeping out
of the mainstream of activity, looking nervously about. As soon as qualifying was over he began to
walk away from the wall and was met by a man that he knew, that was a crew
member from one of the teams. They flashed
off to the garage, where George kept such a low profile that Emerson
Fittipaldi, George’s good friend, only happened to meet him by chance. George didn’t stay long, disappearing rather
quickly after a few minutes of conversation with Emerson.
Saturday was more of the same, George not showing up until
later in the day. We had almost missed
him as we had taken about a ten minute break for our lunch. He was attired as on Friday. He hung out with a few team people and spent
a few minutes talking to a driver and his girlfriend. All of us got to see him briefly but none of
us had the opportunity to go over and say hello, as he was conversing with
friends and it would’ve been terribly impolite for us to intrude. He left shortly thereafter with a journalist
of the international motor sport press, trekking off to his favorite spectator
spot, no doubt. He later showed up at
the garage for a few minutes and disappeared as fast as he appeared. It was so hard to see as the garage is so
huge, so crowded, and not well lit. We
were lucky to get a glimpse of him.
On Sunday – the start of the Grand Prix being less than an
hour away – there was a burst of frantic activity within various teams as they
fought the clock to get their racecraft in top form for that all important zero
hour. We were all quite pleased that
Niki Lauda was on the front row in his third race after his two year absence.
We’re still trying to figure out how George got past us, as he
suddenly materialized with Denis O’Brien in tow! It didn’t look like Denis knew too much about
motor sport. They watched a kart
competition as they conversed. George would
point out various karts as they whizzed by and then would turn and point out a
section of a nearby Formula One vehicle, gesturing as he explained, or he would
point out a particular driver that was walking by. They kept out of the main stream of activity
for the most part, standing in the shelter of a group of trees.
A man came over to George, from one of the teams, we
assumed. They obviously knew each other,
as they exchanged warm greetings, mock punching each other like brothers. I had noticed this man earlier on in the weekend
as he had been walking around wearing a Pretenders button and I think a Dylan
button too. George took a red and black
badge out of his pocket, laughing all the while, clumsily trying to pin it onto
the man’s jacket. The button was pretty
small so we never did find out what it read, even as the guy walked past us.
Denis took a photo of George, which sent him into laughter,
with a “why take a photo of me, Denis”
expression on his face. We delighted in
watching him have a good time, conversing and joking with Denis and various
friends stopping by to say hello.
Karen, who had, once again, gone off on her own, suddenly
popped into view, standing near the trees, about six feet away from George and
Denis. We spotted each other and she
gave us a look of despair; she was debating whether or not to approach George
and how to do it without attracting attention to him. Other than people who actually knew him, only
two other people had taken any notice of him standing there. She slowly and inconspicuously inched up
closer and looked if she was about to give up after waiting several minutes
(take it away Karen!)
He was talking among friends, as I watched on. At an opportune moment, when he was alone
with Denis, I scrounged up the nerve to approach him.
With much hesitation, I walked up to him (Geoerge was a bit
tight-lipped at first) and the following conversation took place:
Karen: Hi, George!
George: Hi.
K: I just wanted to
say hi, and tell you you’re looking wonderful!
G: Oh….thanks…..
K: Someone must be taking good care of you!
G: (No reply) (He was
just looking at me the whole time, and it was very frustrating, as he was
wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t see his expression).
K: Yes? No?
G: Well…yes, I guess
so.
K: How is your family?
G: Good…they’re fine.
K: Dhani must be
getting….
G: He’s getting big,
yeah.
K: How old is he now?
G: Um…he’ll be four
in August.
K: Oh my
goodness! He must be a lot of fun.
G: Oh yeah…I really
enjoy him, and he’s smart too, y’know.
K: Really?
G: Yeah, he’s a smart
one…it comes natural (he giggled). Y’know….he’s
just naturally smart.
K: that’s great. I mean, you wouldn’t want a dummy kid.
G: Oh….no!
K: Do you have him
out in the garden with you?
G: oh yeah, all the
time.
We went on to discuss the racing activities on the weekend,
with George assuring me that Lauda, a more experienced driver, would get around
the pole sitter, a relative newcomer.
We said our goodbyes and take cares and off George went with
Denis O’Brein into the crowd. George
looked so healthy, tan, with short hair. It’s so wonderful that he can go out
and enjoy himself in public. Very few
people noticed to recognize him, so he was able to enjoy himself without being
mobbed.
Well, George was right, Lauda did win the race! We never did see him again but then, we didn’t
expect to have shown up in the first place.
What a “Grand Prize” indeed!
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