The famed three Fs - Farina, Fangio and Fagioli - stood back as their awe-inspiring 158 Alfa Romeos swept into Silverstone.
Not on the back of a multimillion pound pit-lane support truck but driven by mechanics from a HOTEL CAR PARK in nearby Banbury along winding country roads straight on to the starting grid.
It was Saturday May 13, 1950 - and the world’s top drivers counted down the minutes at the Northamptonshire airfield to the first British Grand Prix featuring in the new Formula One championship.
Wide-eyed Cyril Linstone, just 19 and a budding designer and race mechanic, watched in awe. But not for long because there was still a lot of work to be done.
He was part of the four-man Emeryson team and had been up for the previous 72 hours stripping, preparing and testing British hope Paul Emery’s 4.5-litre unsupercharged Duesenburg engine.
Overnight Linstone had driven the car back to Twickenham for emergency repairs. As he headed south a snake-like procession heading in the opposite direction was already clogging up the narrow lanes as 120,000 motor-racing fans headed for the circuit.
King George VI, Queen Elizabeth and Princess Margaret were on the guest list and the country held its breath: Was this was start of a brand-new British sporting institution?
These were the days of 25-second pit stops, when the circuit’s boundaries were determined by straw bales and oil drums filled with concrete, when synchromesh was a snazzy label and safety belts unheard of.
Tyres were rock hard and unchanged, and forget about fireproof or self-sealing fuel tanks. It was a very dangerous game.
Linstone recalled: “Our Duesenburg had a nasty habit of catching alight. The trouble was the carburettor was mounted over the ignition system, methanol would drip… guess the rest.
“But all was set fair. This was a historic day, we’d made it back from Twickenham on time and practice had gone well for Paul.
“He was towards the back of the grid but, hey, this was a super event and we were part of it.”
Linstone said: “Setbacks like that happened all the time. Obviously there was no computer analysis of the engine. In our workshops we drew up our plans in chalk on the concrete floor - and on race day we literally turned up with a bag of tools.
“The pit lane consisted of steel poles, a thin divide and corrugated iron roof, and it could get very, very muddy.
“We would sleep in our tiny support van, or simply commute from London to the circuit - that’s if we went to bed at all.
“We were a shoestring business, dragging the car from race to race on a trailer and, if there were wages to be found, Paul’s wife would often pay them out of her catering job.”
