When this frail-looking, buck-toothed Austrian arrived on the F1 scene with nothing more than a sponsors’ cheque and a head full of big ideas to bankroll, it seemed unthinkable that he would grow into one of the deepest thinking, calmest and most focused drivers of his era. Niki Lauda quickly demonstrated that the technical ability to hone one’s car to mechanical perfection was every bit as important as being able to drive it quickly.
Born into a prosperous Austrian business banking dynasty, Niki outraged his family by borrowing $30,000 to buy a place in the March F1 team for 1972 alongside Ronnie Peterson. The overly complex March 721X almost finished both their careers and Niki ended a miserable season cleanout of sponsorship and seemingly high and dry, with no apparent prospects for an F1 campaign in 1973.
Facing huge bills that he had no prospects of settling, Niki reasoned that he had no alternative but to continue banging on the F1 door. Some fast talking saw Niki charm his way into the works BRM team for a winter testing programme, and once he had his knees beneath the board room table at BRM, he persuaded team boss Lewis Stanley that he deserved a place in the race squad. A few months later, running third at Monaco in the BRM, he caught Enzo Ferrari’s eye. An approach from Luca di Montezemolo followed, and, within months, Maranello’s lawyers had gotten rid of any continuing obligation to BRM and Niki was ready to fly into 1974 with a Ferrari 312B3. Niki made the most of his new machinery and won two races in ’74. He followed that up by bagging five wins and the ’75 title in the technically innovative 312T, which showcased Ferrari’s transverse gearbox concept that had dramatically enhanced the car’s handling and stability.
In 1976 it looked as though Niki would pick up where he left off, but he crashed horrifyingly in the German GP. His Ferrari 312T2 burst into flames, and he was hit by three other cars, driven by Harald Ertl, Arturo Merzario and Guy Edwards.
Niki hung between life and death for a few agonising days. His face and scalp had been badly burned. His lungs had also been scorched by the toxic fumes from the Ferrari’s blazing bodywork. Niki would force the pace of his physical recovery with a single-minded focus that would earn him, quite rightly, hero status.
Niki made his F1 return behind the wheel of a Ferrari in time for the Italian Grand Prix at Monza. Despite the scars on his head leaking blood into his bandages, he stormed to fourth place, setting the second quickest race lap. It pleased the car-crazy Tifosi, but within the halls of power at Maranello, some believed that the Austrian was finished. He defended his world championship to the year’s final race, only losing out at the inaugural Japanese GP at Fuji.
In 1977, Lauda stayed on with Ferrari, but his relationship with the management and their new driver Carlos Reutemann became fractious, and although Niki bagged his second world championship, it was time for him to move on. Making himself incredibly unpopular with his legion of Italian fans, he switched to the Bernie Ecclestone-owned Brabham squad. Their chief designer Gordon Murray came up with an audacious design for the BT46 fan car that used fans to suck it down onto the circuit. However, after Niki won the ’78 Swedish GP, Bernie withdrew it from racing as he did not wish to cause a significant rift amongst the teams.
By the start of 1979, Niki was tiring of racing. Abruptly, mid-way through the first free practice session of the Canadian GP, he pulled into the pit lane and told Bernie he was quitting. For the next two years, Niki made only occasional appearances at Grands Prix, but for 1982, he was tempted out of retirement to drive for McLaren. Ever the prudent and far-sighted operator, Ron insisted that McLaren could walk away from the deal if Niki didn’t prove competitive. As things turned out, he won his third comeback race at Long Beach.
By 1984, armed with the superb new TAG Turbo V6 and battling against his gifted new teammate Alain Prost, Niki won his third world championship by the minuscule margin of half a point. His final grand prix came at Zandvoort the following year. At the end of ’85, the heroic man hung up his helmet. This time it was for good, and there would be no more comebacks.
