We’ve just lost Ken Tyrrell, and I share the sorrow that extends across racing. Not only was Tyrrell a legendary figure in F1, the team owner who spotted the talent in a young Jackie Stewart and mentored him to three World Championships; “Uncle Ken,” as some of us called him (among ourselves), also was one of the most genuinely kind, considerate people I’ve known.
To see that sweet side, you had to get past an appearance that could seem forbidding. This was a tall, craggy, forthright man who brooked no nonsense. Crash one of his cars, as I watched more than one of his drivers do, and your long walk back to the pits was going to terminate with you standing before him like a miscreant child, looking up into a visage of granite.
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