Hot Laps with Phil Hill

By Dale LaFollette
Photos from the collection of Dale LaFollette

In 1980 Road & Track scheduled a day at the Portland race track where I worked so Phil Hill could test some vintage cars for articles he would be writing. On the appointed day several important old cars arrived including my favorite, a 1902 D50 Napier Gordon-Bennett racer that had been assembled from parts of the actual winner of the race. At the time the car was owned by the Harrah Collection.

We had a back road through some woods with a dirt and gravel surface which Phil thought would be appropriate for the Napier test, as it would replicate the actual course surface of the Gordon-Bennett. At the end day after all the cars had been tested, Phil asked me if it would be OK for him to take the Napier out on the road course for a lap as he would like to drive it on asphalt and would I like to come with him?

Sensing the opportunity of a lifetime, I said I would love to do that. As I climbed aboard the Napier I had no apprehension whatsoever, I mean how bad could it be? Here was a World Champion and this old car was from 1902, I imagined we would sputter slowly around the track and I would be able to tell anyone that would listen I had ridden around a road course with Phil Hill.

My first memory of the lap starts when we were about halfway down the front straight with the engine turning less than a 1,000 rpm, it felt like we were being yanked down the road at least a foot with every POP from the exhaust. I quickly came to the realization I had vastly underestimated the car’s ability.

As we approached the first turn Phil became very busy, a hard pull on the exterior brake handle which did not add up to much, then down a gear (3rd to 2nd?) and more brake. This is when I heard a noise I did not understand, it seemed to emanate from the rear axle area so I peered over the edge of my bucket seat and instantly saw the source. It was coming from the brakes which consisted of a steel drum and an exterior band that when tightened pushed a shoe against the drum. In this case the brake “shoe” was a piece of 1 X 2 wood. And it was currently on fire.

Then before I could really get into worry mode about the fire, we were in the middle of the turn. The car, being right hand drive and me being in the passenger seat meant that I was on the outside of the turn. As more centrifugal force than the car had probably ever felt in its entire life (the car was designed for loose surface roads) it became evident the beautiful bucket seat that I had hopped into only moments ago turned out to not be made of metal but yet more wood. And it was creaking and bending in an effort to throw me overboard. As there were no handles or grab bars in the car, I held onto the wall of my bucket seat. Now my right hand reached across and grabbed the left side of Phil’s seat. After all he had a steering wheel to hold onto.

The rest of the lap was much like the earlier part but at less velocity, so I relaxed a little and watched Phil, in backwards cap and old-fashioned goggles, really enjoy himself. At the end of the back straight the brake “shoes” again attempted to turn themselves into carbon but now it was old news.

As we idled into the paddock I remember thinking to myself, “Don’t ever forget this moment” and I haven’t.