Racing Lines: Life after a career-ending F1 crash

Donnelly now teaches Lotus owners how to drive properly

Martin Donnelly almost died when he crashed his Lotus 102. Now, he's flourishing. We catch up with the former racing driver

Where does the time go? It’s nearly 30 years since Martin Donnelly survived an ‘unsurvivable’ accident, as his Lotus 102 disintegrated on impact with a barrier during Friday qualifying for the Spanish Grand Prix.

Donnelly’s body was left crumpled in the middle of the track, the seat still strapped to him, his legs pointing at all the wrong angles. Formula 1’s legendary doctor, Professor Sid Watkins, went to work and saved his life, watched closely by Ayrton Senna, who had walked from the pits to understand what had happened to his friend.

What Senna saw shook him to his core. But when qualifying resumed, the Brazilian slid back into his McLaren and immediately set the fastest lap ever recorded at Jerez. Such is the way of this strange breed we call racing drivers.

“Got any dirt and filth?” rasps the familiar Belfast brogue on the phone. Donnelly’s signature greeting is a demand, not a question, just as it was when I used to call him for a gossip during his days as a racing team boss on the junior single-seater scene. He would always be the last call of the day because, if you didn’t have a bit of dirt to trade, he would tell you nothing. At 56, Donnelly remains great company and is still deeply immersed in a colourful racing life.

*What if?*

Back in 1990, Donnelly was cresting the F1 wave in his first full season with Lotus. Part of the ‘Brat Pack’ generation of British talent, Donnelly had scrapped and clawed his way through the junior ranks beside Damon Hill, Johnny Herbert, Mark Blundell, Julian Bailey and Perry McCarthy. The hard yards seemed behind him when the world went blank at Jerez on 28 September.

“There is no memory retention at all of the accident,” he says, “in fact until after Christmas. The weekend before was the Portuguese Grand Prix at Estoril, and I have absolutely no memory of that either.

“Off-track, there are bits and pieces. On the morning of the accident, Lotus took up the option to extend my contract for £5.6 million, which I’ve got framed on my office wall, along with the £40,000 cheque that guaranteed my services.

“That’s why my book, which I’m currently working on, is called What If?. There are a lot of questions left unanswered, although no one appreciates life more than me.”

It’s only thanks to Watkins fighting his corner that Donnelly still has two legs; doctors wanted to amputate in the immediate aftermath.

One is now shorter than the other, leaving Donnelly with a heavy limp, and there were brain and internal injuries to be dealt with, too. But by the mid-1990s, Donnelly was back in the junior single-seater paddocks, running cars for the next generation of stars.

“I’d been in motorsport all my life,” he says. “I’d worked with some of the best, and you do learn a fair bit. So I set up Martin Donnelly Racing. We had some great drivers, from [BTCC ace] Jason Plato in 1994 to [Jaguar and Prost F1 driver] Luciano Burti, who was the best I had.”

*If you can't race, teach*

Today, Donnelly is back at Lotus as chief instructor of its respected Driver Academy, teaching those who own the firm’s road cars how to drive them properly – and safely.

“Our clients come from all four corners of the globe, and it’s amazing when you realise how far the Lotus brand carries,” he says. “Our courses run over a weekend. They start as a pure novice on the Friday, we build them up bit by bit and, by the Sunday, you see how much they have gained in confidence in an Exige V6.”

The point is not simply to teach them techniques to lap quickly but to understand driving dynamics in a way that will keep them safe on public roads.

“So many accidents on the highway are down to lift-off oversteer,” he says. “Drivers subconsciously cause these accidents themselves.”

*Poacher turned gamekeeper*

Donnelly spent four years as a driver steward for F1 and now serves Goodwood as its guardian of driving standards at the Members’ Meeting and Revival. A thankless task, surely. “It’s a good way to lose friends,” he admits. “You are poacher turned gamekeeper.”

He cites one example that still pains him. A couple of years ago, he reprimanded Jackie Oliver – who gave him his F1 break with Arrows at the 1989 French Grand Prix – after the veteran racer and team owner was involved in an incident with another car in the St Mary’s Trophy saloon car race at the Revival. Oliver appealed, the case went before the national stewards and Donnelly’s decision was upheld, to Jackie’s lingering anger.

“I actually hoped they would exonerate him,” says Donnelly. “That’s a 30-year friendship gone. I’ve had to deal with mates in this job but, whoever it is, I must have zero tolerance for any contact. People don’t race Ferrari 250 GTOs at Goodwood now because of the amount of contact. I say to them: ‘You are here to put on a demonstration in cars that are worth millions. Leave your egos at home.’ But when they put their helmets on, they turn into 18-year-old stock car drivers.”

*Opening old wounds*

Injuries don’t always heal, and Donnelly didn’t help his when he fell off a scooter at low speed during a charity event in Ireland last year.

“I can honestly say it’s done more damage to my leg than when I hit the barrier at 176mph,” he says. “It’s taking a while, but I’m getting stronger and getting more mobility back. The mind and the body have great ways of adapting.

“But hey, there are a lot of people worse off than me; I always think of my old friend Mr Senna. Money is nice to have but, when you haven’t got your health, you realise that is your wealth.” Those are words that will ring a few bells with many of us right now.

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