200 mph on these Belgian roads.As a spectator, I had always felt a romantic attachment watching such a classy driver take the iconic 917 to the limit on a track such as this. But Redman dispatches such dreamy notions by describing

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In that time, hes recorded 17 goals and 17 assists with 36 penalty minutes. Inevitably, previews of this weekends Belgian Grand Prix contain nothing but praise for the circuit. And rightly so. Fifty years ago, drivers might not have been so openly enthusiastic had there been publicity machines churning out sound bites.Spa-Francorchamps was normal for the day, the fabulous road circuit sitting curve by corner with the Nürburgring Nordschleife, Rouen and Clermont Ferrand as your average Grand Prix venue. The problem with Spa was that it was quicker and more risky than others at a time when danger was talked about in the same way teams refer to tyre degradation today. It was something you dealt with; part of the game.Were talking here about the original 8.7-mile triangle, large traces of which you can still see today, parting company with the existing circuit at Les Combes and rejoining on the climb towards Blanchimont. The fast, sweeping journey through different postal districts on the far side of the hill meant climatic changes so diverse that, in 1966, the Grand Prix started in the dry and ran into a downpour on the run through Burnenville and on towards Stavelot.Jackie Stewarts scary adventure has passed into legend after his BRM spun off, demolished a woodcutters hut and landed upside down outside the basement of a house, the Scotsman trapped in the crumpled cockpit while a broken fuel line pumped 5-star all over him.The moral of the story is not so much that the car folded up or fuel leaked everywhere; that was state of the racing art five decades ago. The shocking message was that no one came to either get him out or take care of his injuries once two drivers had stopped, borrowed tools from a spectators car and extracted their mate - fortunately without the wreck catching fire. It was from this appalling experience that Stewarts unpopular campaigning formed the nucleus of safety as we understand it today.Tales of tragedy and terrible injury are as much a part of the original circuits history as heroic performances. In 1968, Brian Redman was driving for Cooper, a team on the way out a decade after winning the world championship. Braking from 160 mph for Les Combes, Redman felt something go wrong at the front, the Cooper spinning into the barrier, then up and over it before coming to a sudden halt courtesy of a marshals road car parked on the other side. Redman was trapped, the wreckage catching fire thanks to a marshals lit cigarette as the man tried to free the driver. Once pulled from the car, Redman was left to watch as the marshals tended to a badly injured colleague before returning to the Englishman and placing him on a stretcher.ddddddddddddJohn Cooper, anxious to protect his companys integrity, insisted there was nothing wrong with the car and that Redman had made a mistake. Given the drivers state of confusion, the story might have become fact had Peter Burn, staff photographer for Autosport, not caught the moment, his image showing the lower right-front suspension snapping under load.Redman considered himself lucky on another front when he got away with a broken arm caused by the limb being trapped between the chassis and the barrier as the Cooper went in. The Englishman proved there was no psychological damage when he returned to score a couple of very impressive wins in sportscars. But to say he was not afraid of Spa would be far removed from a truth drivers rarely spoke about.In an extremely honest and fascinating *account of his career, Redman talks about the pressure of being expected to win at the wheel of a Porsche 917; a monster of a car standing still, never mind exceeding 200 mph on these Belgian roads.As a spectator, I had always felt a romantic attachment watching such a classy driver take the iconic 917 to the limit on a track such as this. But Redman dispatches such dreamy notions by describing this as a job that needed to be done - at maximum speed.In top gear, wrote Redman. I hammered into Malmedy and onto the Masta straight, that narrow 1.5-mile country road where I pushed the car to its top speed - 214 mph. I tried not to think about this as I neared the Masta kink, probably the most intimidated turn in all of motor racing. At that velocity, I couldnt indulge even the briefest of unnecessary lifts without losing precocious seconds (and my drive).Porsche were not there for the thrill of the sport. And Redman was no more than an employee who could drive quickly; an asset seen as less of a supreme talent and more of a necessary qualification to do a job for which he was being paid. Redman talks of being unable to sleep before the race. And that was not solely due to the sound of rain beating against the bedroom window.Spa used to be one hell of a scary place. Now its one hell of a fine race track by todays very different standards.* Brian Redman. Daring Drivers, Deadly Tracks. (Evro Publishing) ' ' '