Andy Priaulx - Andy Priaulx: The Autobiography of the Three-time World Touring Car Champion

Andy Priaulx

Triple World Champion

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

To Jo, Seb, Dannii and family.

by Dr Mario Theissen, BMW Motorsport Director

WHEN I WAS TOLD BY BMW GB that they wanted to sign Andy Priaulx for their assault on the European Touring Car Championship I must admit I had not heard a great deal about him. I was soon to learn about his challenges to get recognised in the motorsport world and how he would go on to be a great ambassador for motorsport and BMW.

Having brought home four titles for BMW his success for the Team has been well recognised, and in securing matching manufacturers titles we too have proven our status in the competitive world of touring car racing.

What this book spells out is the unrelenting resolve of Andy to achieve the very best results from not only himself but his team and those around him, ensuring that everyone is working to the aim of winning.

Andy has had a fantastic grounding in finding his own sponsorship to survive and pursuing self-taught disciplines to gain impressive results. These qualities allow him to pass his experiences on to our young drivers in Formula BMW, where he has been a chief instructor, and also to the many around the paddock to whom he is always giving encouragement.

After visiting his home in Guernsey on holiday and thoroughly enjoying the experience, it was even more evident to me the work that Andy has put into motor racing. He has come from an island with no race circuit but a great grassroots motorsport heritage; his raw talent developed on the Val des Terres hillclimb amongst granite walls and unforgiving barriers has flourished on the international stage as Andy has risen to become World Champion.

Andy has had to work hard and sacrificed almost everything to achieve his goal. However, he has maintained a personable and totally approachable demeanour and continues to be a terrific mentor for the young drivers of the future, backed totally by his family and a loyal group of friends. His story opens your eyes to how dreams can be achieved.

I was just a lad from Guernsey, in an old car, who was driving up the road chasing a dream

WE ALL WEPT. THE OTHERS MIGHT NOT ADMIT SO NOW, but they did. And it was all my fault. I was leaving home and honestly didnt have a clue where I was going or what I was going to do. I wanted to get away from Guernsey and make something of myself. I was aiming for Silverstone. I was determined to get to Formula One. I wanted to be a professional racing driver. And I believed I could be

Looking back now, I realise I was so young and inexperienced. I was still just a kid. I had this big idea in my head and I was intent on making it happen. At least I was being true to type. I am a Guernsey man, a stubborn so-and-so, and I was simply behaving as we all do on my home island in part, acting like a mule.

My dad Graham, mum Judy and sister Fiona, all the family, my friends and my beautiful fiance Jothey were standing there in the harbour, and watched and waved as the boat pulled away. The tears flowed a bit. They knew what I wanted and how much I had sacrificed. I think they understood. I was heading off to chase my dream, leaving everyone behind and hoping for the best.

Who could tell what the future held. Did I have the speed? The character? The talent? The raw ability that everyone needs to succeed in motor racing? One thing I certainly did not have was the money. I had a little profit from some used car sales not much, although probably just enough to live on for a couple of months. But, more importantly, I had my dream and my self-belief.

The sea rolled and the old Commodore ferryboat carried us out into the English Channel. I felt churned up inside but excited and feeling all manner of conflicting emotions: I wanted to stay with everyoneyet I wanted to go. Although I had previously been away at weekends racing, Id usually had my family with me, and I had certainly never before been in a situation like this, going to live in another country on my own.

But I was fired by ambition and determined to give it my best shot. Reaching the top for me in those days meant Formula One because I had watched it on television. And if I could not make it to Grand Prix racing, I would still climb as near to the racing summit as I could.

I had my old Volvo estate with me on the ferry and a Hobby caravan, both of which I had bought to live in during the next chapter of my life. And that was it. I would sleep in the caravan bought cheap on the mainland and live that way until I could find my feet. That was the plan

I looked back to the shore. I could see the faces and expressions. Then I could just about make out the shapes and outlines of each one. And then those shapes blurred until all I could see was the Guernsey shoreline. Gradually, the island began to recede from sight and the open sea took over. I tightened my jaw.

As I stood there, on the slow boat crossing over to the English mainland, I thought of the many Guernsey refugees who had fled before the Germans occupied our island during the Second World War. Then it was old folk, children and families fleeing the German soldiers. I am no great historian but I love my home island and I knew England had always been our safe refuge, a place to grow up and seek opportunities. So, like many before me, I was following a long-established Guernsey tradition. I was seeking my fortune across the sea.

I had always been a big motorsport fan as had most of my family. But none of us had attempted this before. And, contrary to a lot of ill-conceived rumours and tittle-tattle, I was not remotely wealthy. My family was just an ordinary, hard-working, Guernsey clan; indeed, the Priaulx name can be traced back in the history books to the far-off days of William the Conqueror. My mum worked, played the piano and was involved with the church. My dad ran a garage, the family business. He was a real hard-working guy. My granddad, Skip, did the same. And they were both racers. They enjoyed life and did well, but neither was born with a silver spoon in sight. And nor was I.

My granddad raced up and down the beaches in the old days they used to call it sand racing tearing around out there when the tide was out. He had a yellow car known as the flying banana and as we grew up we loved to hear all the stories. My dad was a fast driver, too a winner and record-breaker on the hillclimbs. When I was a kid I helped him prepare his cars, dressing up in a set of red racing overalls to do the polishing and spannerwork.

I suppose, because of all that, motorsport was in my blood. I loved skateboards, bikes, karts, motorbikes and anything that moved fast really. I took part in motocross, and went out boating. I grew up outdoors, climbing, running, playing sport and racing around on anything I could lay my hands on. I had a few scrapes, but nothing put me off climbing back on board whatever the vehicle was to have another go. My mum, admittedly, was not always best pleased about that!

I always remember discovering Formula One and getting hooked on it. I recall watching Gilles Villeneuve with my dad and thinking that Id love to be doing something like that. I dont think, if I am honest, that I have ever held any ambitions outside of motor racing. I just wanted to race. I loved anything with an engine and a throttle: a motorbike, a car, a powerboat such machines were a real temptation to me. My gut feeling, as I grew up, was that it was fun and I just wanted to play a bit. But as I started to think more about my future, I realised that maybe I had a bit of talent. I wanted to maximise that and so I had a real burning desire to push myself forwards.