Sep 27th 2015, 8:00 AM 28,420 13
This article contains graphic video footage and descriptions that some readers may find disturbing.
“Martin Donnelly lied like a mangled puppet in the middle of the track. With eight minutes of Friday’s qualifying session left to run, his Lotus had collided with a barrier behind the paddock at 170 miles per hour. His car had split in half and the Ulsterman had been thrown clear, the remains of his seat still strapped to his back.”
Chapter 1: Crash
MARTIN DONNELLY REMEMBERS nothing about the crash that should’ve killed him. It happened at Jerez in southwest Spain, a lifetime ago.
There are minor details that stick in the memory about that weekend but nothing more.
He remembers the type of car he hired at the airport. He remembers the few days spent relaxing at a villa in Obra. He remembers ten-pin bowling with a friend. And then there’s just black.
“I don’t remember driving the car at all”, he says.
“I don’t remember signing the option letter or the contract on the morning of the race. When I was in hospital, I had a lot of journalists who came to see me months after the crash happened and we had a wee chat. But I didn’t remember it happening because there was no memory retention until Christmas of 1990.”