Friday, 8 May 2020

13: 'JC' (AKA John Cressey)




John with Stan Quirk on the Mull Rally

I first met John Cressey around 1981 when I started teaching Rally Navigation in evening classes at Ribblesdale School.  There can’t have been many County Education Department-run Rally Navigation classes in the country, but then again, there weren’t many Heads of Evening Classes called Jeff Smith, a very successful navigator in his own right.  Many of my students later achieved success in motor sport (I’m not taking any credit for this!)

John’s family firm was Magna Print Books, one of two businesses you wouldn’t expect to find in the small edge-of-Dales village of Long Preston (the other being the first-ever Rohan Outdoor Clothing shop).  The business was successful and the Cressey family went on to buy nearby Hellifield Garage – always a useful acquisition when you’ve got rally cars to maintain!


Early days

Like me, John can turn his hand to sitting in either seat of a rally car, and we competed on a number of rallies together, sometimes with me driving, sometimes ‘JC’.  On one Hall Trophy Rally around 1987 (I must still have been Clerk of the Course then), John’s own car wasn’t available for some reason and he asked if he could borrow mine.  I had enough confidence in his driving skills to let him.  And enough confidence in his finances that the loan was on the basis of “You bend it, you buy it!”

We always competed separately on Mull, and whilst I retired in the mid-90s, JC continues still, now with son Martin reading the notes.  For many years now, John has had support from Minisport of Padiham, which is surprising as he had a prang in the Minisport van the very first morning he started working part-time for them a few years ago!  At first he drove his Minisport-supported BMW-Mini, but now he’s pedalling a classic Cooper ‘S’ – to good effect – on Mull and other selected rallies.

His best result on Mull was in 1985 when he came second to Ron Beecroft, the year my third overall vanished with the rear wheel when the halfshaft snapped.  I’m sure he’d admit that he’s too old to keep up with the young up and coming drivers, but his times can still sometimes be impressive and are way better than I could achieve.


Going well on the 'Long One' in the Opel Manta

John’s brother Phil was also a regular visitor to the Mull Rally and used to service the Hellifield Garage-sponsored cars, including mine.  I always remember his thick Yorkshire accent, when I’d ask “Can you fix it?” and Phil would reply “Ay, it’ll eether get fixed er it’ll breck.”  I can tell the following story because the hotel in question has changed hands several times since it happened…

As I said, Phil (and his wife Linda) have strong accents that leave you in no doubt they hail from Yorkshire.  Due to pressures of work one year, Phil thought they would have to miss the Mull Rally, but early in the week he realised they could just squeeze a visit if they drove up on Thursday and came back Sunday.

Linda rang a few places but as you would expect they were all full.  She even tried the Western Isles but they were also full, and so, downcast and sombre, she related her tale of woe to Philip that Tuesday evening. Phil would have nothing of it. “The Western Isles always keep a room or two back in case someone wants to play golf.  I’ll call ‘em!”  So Phil rings the Western Isles and puts on a magnificently far-back, ‘toff’ accent.  He related the conversation to me…

“Good evening, sorry it’s short notice but I’m thinking of coming up to Tobermory for a couple of roynds of gawlf at the weekend – could I book in?”
“Och, it’s the big rally this weekend and we’ve only one room available,”
“Is it en-suite?”
“Of course sir,”
“Then I’ll take it, Thursday to Saturday”
“Thank you sir, the total comes to £xx, would you be able to pay the deposit by card over the phone?”
“Deposit? Heavens no, I’ll pay the whole damn lot now and get it over with!”
“Thank you sir, we look forward to seeing you, and enjoy your golf.”

And that, said Phil, is how to book the Western Isles at Rally weekend.  (The hotel’s changed hands and this no longer works, just in case you were thinking…!)
John’s navigator on Mull for some years was ‘Bonny’ Alan Wilson.  We (me and Val, the Cressey Clan, Bonny Alan plus Dave, Jim and Nick from Hellifield Garage) were in the Bellachroy one evening, enjoying taking the top off one or two;  at that time Val’s mum used to visit our house on Wednesday afternoons to help her with the cleaning.  I can’t remember what we were talking about but Val said something which included the words “my cleaner”:  in a split-second Alan looked at her and said “Cleaner?!? – You POSH sod!” No amount of explaining by Val seemed to help, or reduce the hilarity, which got even more out of control when JC spilt some beer down his front and said “Woops, I missed my mouth!” to which Alan replied, incredulously, “You – missed – your – MOUTH?!?”


In Lettermore Forest with 'Bonny' Alan

I was JC’s co-driver on the 88 Lombard RAC Rally which started from Harrogate, where there were concerns, particularly amongst the Sierra Cosworth owners, that thieves would target the rally-prepared cars.  One crew, staying at a B&B near the town centre, parked the rally car and locked it.  They then parked the chase car in front and backed it up to the Sierra until they were touching, and parked the service van behind, also touching.  With everything locked up securely, they went to bed and in the morning… the Sierra Cosworth was gone! The thieves had crawled under the service van, cut the handbrake cables, rolled the van back and made off with the car.  Sad but true.

Nobody was likely to steal John’s car, a Mk1 Vauxhall Astra 1300, complete with spare driveshaft under my seat (I never bothered to check how securely it was fastened down!)  Bonny Alan drove the chase car and the rest of the lads the service van.  Remember RAC ‘Stately Homes Sunday Run’ before the serious forest action started before Jesus got up on Monday morning? 

Well, we took a water splash a bit too quickly and holed a piston.  At first we thought that was curtains, but JC is nothing if not resourceful.  We took the spark plug out and finished Sunday on three cylinders. First stage Monday morning was Weston Park, followed by a two-hour drive to Hafren Sweet Lamb in SW Wales.  On Sunday afternoon Dave drove back to Hellifield and collected everything he’d need, and we got written permission from a filling station just outside Weston Park to work on the car on his forecourt.

Monday morning started with the Weston Park stage, still on three cylinders; then to the forecourt where the lads worked their socks off and changed the piston in 62 minutes before we headed off, with no time to spare, to south Wales, arriving at the stage with one minute to spare and almost last car on the road.  (We were mentioned on the BBC evening Rally Report by… er, was he called William Woollard? Who said “One crew even changed a piston and kept going.”  Thanks WW, big mention that.) Meanwhile Bonny Alan, doing his best to keep up in the chase car, was stopped by the police for speeding and given a ticket.

The rest of the rally didn’t go well.  Those roads are rough when you’re running last on the road.  By Tuesday we were at Grizedale in the Lake District.  200 metres into the stage on the first hairpin right, the driveshaft went.  “Don’t worry!” shouts JC, “we’ve a spare!” promptly dived under my seat for it, and replaced the broken item in little more than twice the time it takes to change a wheel.  We set off again, and got a further five miles when… the cam belt snapped.  Finally, curtains.

We called the service crew up (still on CB radio) and as soon as they could enter the stage they fixed a tow-rope and we were on our way home.  John and I sat in the rally car as it was being towed. Bonny Alan in the chase car maintained close contact.  The CB banter began, inevitably with criticism of JC.  Someone said “He can’t even drive fast,” to which Alan, quick as a flash, replied “You’re right there.  I can drive faster than Cress – I’ve got a ticket to prove it!”

I can’t remember the rest of the journey home.

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