On the Roadcar side of the magazine this month, I have written about a venerable British icon—Jaguar—that for all intents and purposes seems to have nine lives. As I sat down to write this column, on September 17, I came to the sudden realization that there is another British icon that also apparently has nine lives—that icon being Sir Stirling Moss.
I had to pause for a minute, when I realized that today is Moss’s 85th birthday. In general, 85 has become an increasingly normal and viable age, but when examined in the context of Moss’s life, times and occupation, it is freaking remarkable! First, consider the number of top-flight racers from the 1950s who even survived to see the 1960s! Then look at the number of those surviving Grand Prix drivers who are still with us today—Brooks, Gurney and Moss—that’s about it. Yet Moss survived more than decade of competition during the “Golden Age” of motorsport, when racing was dangerous and sex was safe. While Moss’s zeal for the latter (or “Crumpet” as he likes to call it) may have led to numerous “memorable” moments, two memorable on-track moments, prove that he must have a Dorian Gray-like portrait of himself, stashed away in his attic.
