High life
A tragic tale
Ti aki
Ifirst set eyes on Lady Sarah Curzon in Silverstone, during the British Grand Prix sometime in the late Sixties. she was the quintessential English rose, beautiful, blonde and very, very nice. Soon after, in Zanwoort, during the Dutch Grand Prix, her husband, Piers Courage, then lying fourth in Formula I standings, was killed in an appalling high speed crash. He was not yet 25, leaving behind his young wife and two boys, Jason, 3, and Amos, 1. Later, Sally went on to marry my friend John Aspinall, who became much more than a step-father, bringing up the boys to love nature and animals and to feel full brothers to Damian, Amanda and Bassa.
Jason must have inherited a speed gene from his maternal grandfather, Earl Howe — a British champion racing driver — and from his father, because he lived very, very dangerously. Needless to say, on a bike, a powerful bike that could do 160 mph on the motorway. The other thing he inherit- ed was courage, real courage, and the need to take risks and play with his life.
His younger brother Amos was more cerebral, went to Eton and Oxford, and is at present somewhere in the bush in Zaire photographing wildlife, Jason looked for his Golden Fleece in speed and danger. Only last week he was in Vietnam trying to set up a new business. He was blond, goodlooking, decent and as nice a young man as is possible to meet. He was not interested in drink or drugs. He was the perfect son, Last Monday evening, on his way to pick-up a girl for dinner, he came down the Cromwell Road from the west, head- ing for Knightsbridge. Just before Exhibi- tion Road, Jason saw a totally empty roadway and went for it. Unknown to him, a man in a hired car driving west, had not seen the sign forbidding a right turn. It was dark, and the no-right turn sign was difficult to see. As the hired car made the Illegal turn Jason was upon it. He never had a chance.
Still, the police said afterwards he reacted with great coolness of mind. He leapt from the bike at speed, as one is supposed to do, and crashed on his own. The police also said that people do not survive the kind of appalling injuries that Jason suffered. But his youth and great physical shape helped. I will not go into the ghastly details of his suffering. the most horrid news is that Jason's spinal nerves were severed and he is paralysed from the neck down. Throughout the Tuesday morning vigil by his family and friends it looked as he wouldn't make it. The latest report on Tuesday is that he's fifty-fifty. His brother, whom he was closest to, has not as yet been tracked down.
In such tragedies, one tends to think of the mother first. Sally Aspinall simply did not deserve such a horrid fate. But which mother does? They say that the worst thing that can happen to one is to survive one's child. I agree. In fact, I live in fear for my own. Two of my close friends have lost children, and there's simply nothing to say, however Christian we may be, except that God does move in strange ways. The Ancient Greeks, as always, had a better explanation. When one died young, the ones that were left behind at least knew that the Gods had claimed them, wanting him or her near them. What is so terribly sad about Jason is that he was so very physical. His whole life was movement and physical activity and speed, and for such a young man to become imprisoned in a wheelchair is too sad to contemplate.
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