There was, and I started under Jack’s designer Ron Tauranac as a junior draughtsman in the small office crammed into the Repco company’s warehouse near the bottom end of Victoria Road, a shopping street in Surbiton. There I made the acquaintance of Peter Wilkinson, the friendly foreman in charge of the workshop, and Tim Wall, Jack’s quiet and very effective racing mechanic. Not that there was much of a workshop in that place. Or much in the way of staff.
On one occasion this was a small mercy. Jack had bought a Lotus 21, which Tim was working on one day. Like most racing cars of the time, it relied for electrical power on a neat little Varley lead-acid battery which sat in the floor. Also sitting in the glassfibre floor — temporarily and not intentionally — was some spilt fuel. When poor Tim accidentally crossed the terminals of the Varley battery with a spanner, the petrol caught fire, as did the entire car.
The resultant blaze was confined to the Lotus and was extinguished, though not soon enough to save it. The smoke made a pretty awful mess of the contents and the inside of the building, including our office and some of the drawings.
I can’t recall exactly when the original name of the firm — Motor Racing Developments, founded in 1961 — was changed to Brabham Racing Developments, but one cannot forget why it was changed.
One of Jack’s many friends was motor racing correspondent Jabby Crombac. Jabby was an extraordinary Frenchman in that he spoke English if anything rather better and more clearly than most Brits. It was he who pointed out to Jack that the initials of Motor Racing Developments, MRD, may have been innocuous enough in English, but in French it would not do.
Why? Because, as Jabby pointed out in his immaculate English — in this case interspersed with some French — the way a Frenchman pronounces those initials — written phonetically, ’em air day’ — sounded perilously like the French word for what one may politely call excreta; merde. This was not the ideal name for a racing car.