This weekend’s Hungarian Grand Prix marks the most recent in an event stretching back to the mid 1980s, the end of the Cold War, and a newly emerging global F1. This is the story of that race and how the World Championship went behind the Iron Curtain.
It is hard to imagine a sport which represents more of the capitalistic ideal than motor racing. The highest categories are replete with ruthless economics, brutal competitive realities and financial rewards only for the most successful. The old adage is as true as it’s always been. How do you make a small fortune in motorsport? Start with a large one. The 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix, the first Formula One event to occur in a Warsaw Pact nation, might therefore seem an unlikely thing to have ever occurred.
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Motorsport however captures the imagination like few other sporting spectacles. The combination of skills, endurance, bravery, risk, technology and engineering is a heady one. The prospect of triumph and tragedy holds a natural drama in a way that very few other sports can match. The human nature which used to see Roman citizens flock to the chariot races is alive and well and living on the terraces of Brands Hatch, Interlagos, Monza and Indianapolis, to name just a few.
Those hooks transcend politics, economics and cultural philosophies. Humans will always seek spectacle, whilst a smaller number will seek the risk of providing it. Nothing stops it. People always attend the circus. It endures.
Cold War Competition
In 1946 Winston Churchill coined a term for the division of Europe in the wake of the Second World War. The Iron Curtain, extending from the Baltic to the Adriatic, split Europe, and the World, along a harsh demarcation between East and West. The Cold War raged and human existence balanced on a knife edge for nearly 50 years. A false move, a mistake, a touch too much aggression from either side might have had consequences which would’ve reduced human society as a whole to something more akin to those who attended the original chariot races thousands of years ago.
In motorsporting terms, the West picked up where it had before the war. The United States went back to Indy, Nascar found its feet and the proud disciplines of American motorsport found a new foundation and new areas to explore, notably in Sports Cars. In Europe the Grand Prix of the first half of the century were re-energised and the new Formula laid down, most notably Formula One. A handful of years later this would lead to the World Championship. European sports cars would maintain their prestige and the battle at Le Mans and other circuits would intensify between Europe and the US.
Meanwhile the South Americans would inject talent, vibrancy and flair into the sport on both sides of the Atlantic. Not to be outdone, far flung parts of the crumbling British sphere of influence would emerge as key players too, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa would compete with the best of the West. And of course Japan took to motor-racing like a phenomenally enthusiastic duck to water too.
Go East Young Man
But what of the East? How did the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix come to be?
Well, motorsport is universal. Its appeal is enormous, and Soviet engineering had many reasons to be proud and wished to seek more. Not content with taking an early lead in the Space Race the people of the Eastern Bloc thirsted for more earthly technical competition, without the risk of nuclear annihilation.
This Formula Easter was born.
Formula Easter? Don’t worry if you haven’t heard of it. Few in the West have. It remains one of those motor sporting obscurities, like the Scottish Grand Prix, the Swedish Winter Grand Prix and Masahiro Hasemi and his phantom fastest lap (look them up, they’re all weird and fascinating). It began in the 1970s as a single seater category for the Eastern Bloc and soon it established its own Championship, the fantastically named “Peace and Friendship Cup”.
Marxist Motorsport
The rules for this competition were restrictive in a way that the Soviets, sadly for all concerned in every facet of life in the East, proved to be very good at. All materials for building the cars had to be sourced from the Mutual Economic Assistance and Trade Group (COMECN), i.e. the Soviet economic sphere. This led to many many parts being home built by enthusiasts. Yet, incredibly, there were Soviet race car manufacturers. Estonia (unsurprisingly based in Estonia) produced single seaters for Formula Easter as did Czech company Matalex. The better off and more competitive outfits could source their cars from here. In spite of the odds, the rest stripped road vehicles for parts and employed commendable ingenuity in building their machinery.
Signifcantly, the Formula was limited to 1300cc displacement with strict rules in place on making sure key engine components were stock. The Lada 21011’s engine block became, in many ways, the Soviet Ford DFV. A competitive and reliable unit for the competition. Tuning would allow it to reach the dizzying heights of 110bhp or even more. Other engines were used too but with comparatively less success. A far cry from the turbo powered monsters which would compete in the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix.
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The Racing Spirit
Obviously, as the nature of the technology would imply, Formula Easter was no Formula One in terms of performance. F1 engines of the same period were comfortably chucking out 500bhp and the difference in chassis, braking, gearbox, and tyre technologies was night and day. Formula Easter was a class that could compete with Formula Ford, not Formula One.
Of course, this is not to look down on those who competed in it. We should celebrate them just as much as their Western counterparts. Here was a motorsport scene which was devoid of many essential materials (getting hold of tyres was always an issue). It was not allowed to glean technical skills from abroad either. But it produced a category of racing which, by all accounts was fast, frenetic, and fiercely competitive. They stand as a shining testimony of what you can do in the sport with brains, commitment, grit and inspiration. Therefore they were racers just as much as those in the West. It is a tragedy their efforts remain obscure. More people need to know the story. Who knows what talent the Cold War deprived the World Championship of?
All this, of course, is to illustrate that the Eastern Bloc liked racing cars. There were racing car doodles on kids exercise books in Tallinn and Rostov just as much as Turin and Riverside. So when Gorbachev took over the running of the shop, and when Glasnost (openness) with the West became the word, and Cold War tensions began to ease a little, Formula One looked East and found a very willing audience.
Bernie Builds Bridges
By 1986 Bernie Eccleston was firmly ensconced as F1’s ring master. Always with an eye on new markets, and with the thawing in relations between the West and Moscow, Eccleston originally tried to sell a race in Russia itself without success before looking at the other nations behind the curtain.
There was just one problem really. There wasn’t really a circuit suitable. Formula Easter competed all across the Eastern Bloc but there wasn’t a natural prestige venue. Perhaps the best candidate would have been Brno in what was Czechoslovakia, which was then a superb road circuit (not the same track we know today) for bikes and represented the East in the motorcycle World Championship from 1965. It wouldn’t be ideal for cars though.
Step forward Hungary. In four wheeled racing terms Hungary had always been a junior partner even by Eastern Bloc standards. Formula Easter was dominated by drivers from East Germany, Estonia and Czechoslovakia. Hungary, with very little background in vehicle manufacture, seemed perhaps a less natural choice than one of these nations. What they did have was bags of enthusiasm and a pride in what they had achieved.
Whilst racing cars didn’t have a historic foundation, racing bikes certainly did. Hungarian motorcyclist János Drapál had had international success in the World Championship in the 1970s, winning four Grand Prix. It was he who was Hungary’s motorsports pride and Joy. Tragically he was killed in 1985 in a race in Czechoslovakia. The first race held at Hungary’s new circuit would be in his honour. The 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix had a home.
Hungarian Hospitality
The Hungaroring, lying just outside of Budapest, was built in just eight months to host the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix. A staggering achievement. What was even more impressive was that, when the World Championship F1 circus arrived in August 1986, they were met with a hugely well organized reception. Frequently, chaos often reigns supreme on Grand Prix weekends, especially if a circuit has no experience in holding such an event. Not so in Hungary. Predictions of a circuit lined with severe Soviet armed guards and a cowed ignorant fanbase were well wide of the mark too. Hungary was warm and welcoming and the sun beat down on the new circuit. It impressed everyone.
The excitement was evidently infectious. 200,000 people turned up to watch the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix. This was the largest attendance a World Championship Formula One race had ever had at the time.
Eighties Icons At The 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix
1986 is one of those classic F1 years. Formula One was Turbo powered and the grid was packed with names which would become legendary in the sport, if they weren’t already. The four main players in 1986 were the Williams pairing of Nigel Mansell and Nelson Piquet, Alain Prost in the McLaren (defending his 1985 title) and Ayrton Senna in the iconic black and gold JPS livery of Team Lotus.
These drivers came to the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix, round 11 of that season, with all their Championship hopes alive. Mansell led on 51 points, Prost 44, Senna 42 and lastly Piquet on 38, over double the points of fifth place man Keke Rosberg on 18. It was clear that the new circuit would provide a crucial point in the battle for the title.
Highly technical, relatively low speed, with a very short start finish straight, some drivers adored it immediately but others found a challenge to find a rhythm. Frequently it is called ‘Monaco without the barriers’ due to the narrow nature of the place and the lack of multiple racing lines.
In 1986 the circuit was also brand new and yet to rubber in properly. Off line it was hugely slippy, the drivers finding that if they strayed the circuit would reward them with a spin. Indeed this would be typical Hungaroring in the years to come as the track was used infrequently and dust would blow onto the circuit making things very hairy for the first cars to come along after a protracted break in racing. Things seemed set for a fascinating race.
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Senna Spins His Way To Pole
Qualifying in the 1980s was a purists dream. Two days of practice and, quite simply, the fastest lap at the end of it scored pole. Super sticky but short lived qualifying tyres provided much faster lap times for the cars versus their race trim. These would only last one flying lap each, maybe a little more if you were lucky, and in 1986 you were only allowed to use two sets of tyres per practice session. Most drivers therefore chose to practice with a set of race tyres, and a set of qualifying specials. The idea was you could bed yourself in on the race set, and then go for it with an all out banzai qualifying lap on the specials.
Senna gambled, and won. After a tricky Friday session where he’d spun a number of times on the slippery surface, the Brazilian opted for two qualifying sets on Saturday. This meant he’d have only two, maybe three laps to nail a time. His first attempt was spectacular. A 1:29.450. Pole for the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix by nearly three and a half tenths. It was just as well. He spun on his second attempt. And again on his third on what was, by now, very second hand rubber indeed.
Piquet Leads The Pack
Alongside Senna’s flying Lotus would be his compatriot Piquet. The 1981 and 83 World Champion was having a tricky season at his new team Williams. Three retirements so far, and a disappointing Monaco Grand Prix. This had been offset by three wins and a number of podiums before reaching Hungary, notably in a win at Hockenheim the previous race. The inconsistency meant he was in 4th in the title fight and in danger of losing touch. He would need a good result.
Row two saw Prost’s McLaren leading Mansell’s Williams. Then, on the third row, came Rosberg in the second McLaren and Tambay, a surprisingly competitive sixth in the Beatrice Haas Lola. Both McLarens had been reporting serious understeer all weekend but were making the best of it. Further back were the rest of the field, including Johansson (7th) and Alboreto (15th) in the Ferrari’s, both complaining of serious turbo lag. A second covered the top five who were clearly the class of the field. The race would be between them.
A Scorching Start
Race day dawned to bright sunshine and climbing temperatures. When the flag fell and the race began it was 38 degrees Celsius. That is 100F for our non metric readers. The record breaking crowd baked in the heat as 26 cars went out on the formation lap. Almost immediately one was in trouble. Prost’s car slowed to a halt. The Frenchman sprinted back to the pits to take the spare car. This he managed and was able to retain his third spot on the grid
As the flag fell Senna streaked clear, but it was Mansell, making a superb start from fourth, who was on his tail into the first corner. It soon transpired though that all was not as it should be with the Williams. Over the course of the weekend they had tried a new differential out. Piquet liked it, Mansell didn’t. The Englishman elected to stay with the old diff. This was to be a mistake as his car struggled in the dusty, low grip conditions. Piquet had no such worries and was soon past Mansell and got his head down chasing his countryman Senna for the lead.
Prost Shaped Problems
Prost dispatched Mansell on lap 7. The Englishman looked to be consigned to a purgatory of low grip for the afternoon. Piquet though was motoring and by lap 10 he was on Senna’s gearbox. The young Lotus driver positioned his car as best as he could for two laps, but Piquet was irresistible. He outbreaked Senna into the first corner and was off into a lead that the Lotus looked unable to do anything about. Indeed Senna now had to worry about Prost who was roaring up behind him in the spare McLaren.
He didn’t have to worry long. Four laps later Prost brought the McLaren into the pits with serious electrical issues. He would rejoin after frantic work, but by then he’d be eight laps down anyway. He would ultimately retire after a silly collision with Rene Arnoux’s Ligier which broke his suspension.
Tyres and Tension
By lap 35 of the scheduled 77 Piquet’s tyres were done and he came in to get them changed. Senna retook the lead and was doing an excellent job of making his own rubber last whilst not dropping off too much in terms of pace. By lap 48 though he had to come in. The Lotus pit crew did a solid job and Senna emerged with a lead of just over 8 seconds and on new rubber.
Piquet though had the bit between his teeth and charged, cutting chunks out of Senna’s advantage with every circuit. By the start of lap 55 he was all over Senna. As before he made his move into Turn One.
This time Senna squeezed him. Moving right to cover the inside line and push Piquet towards the pit wall. A move which was to become typical Senna. The commentating James Hunt, with typical understatement, referred to it as “a bit naughty”. Piquet though held his nerve and didn’t back out. Instead he outbroke himself. His lead lasted all of 50 yards as he immediately ran wide onto the dust and was lucky to keep the car pointed in the right direction. Senna simply nipped back underneath him to retake the lead. Two laps later though Piquet was ready to try again . . .
Pondering Piquet
Nelson Piquet Souto Maior, to give him his full honorific, is a three times World Champion. 1981 and 1983 with Brabham and 1987 with Williams. He won 23 Grand Prix in 204 starts. By any standards you can rate him among F1’s elite. There are not many who can claim to have achieved more in Formula One than Nelson Piquet. Yet somehow his driving and his achievements never seem to be talked about in the same way of some of his contemporaries. He doesn’t inspire the messianic, and perhaps over mythologized, awe Senna seems to, he doesn’t have the reputation for racing intelligence Prost had, nor has he the narrative of wheel to wheel heroics that Mansell’s fans cite.
Perhaps this is because of his driving style, efficient and smooth, not exceptionally showy. Perhaps it’s because of the circumstances of his victories. Nobody can deny that the Brabhams of the early 80s had many advantages and Piquet exploited these for all they were worth. I can’t blame him for that. Any other driver would do the same. It seems ironic that his great F1 rival, Mansell, won his title in what is probably the most dominant car of the 20th century and yet it’s Mansell who has the reputation of the underdog champion.
Maybe it’s his personality. I have never met Nelson Piquet and am in no position to judge, but he seems to inspire deep loyalty, or total antipathy in those who raced and worked with him. Listen to Niki Lauda or Frank Dernie talking about the man and you’d hear about a loyal, diligent, pleasant, funny man with great integrity. Listen to Mansell and you’ll hear a different tale. A divisive figure I think is a fair summation.
The Greatest Pass In F1 History
History is strange. Piquet’s achievements on paper are among the best in the sport. However I would struggle to put him near a top ten list of all time F1 drivers. Why? I honestly don’t know. Somehow, in some vague way I can’t describe, I just think he lacks something when weighing those achievements against that of others. I freely admit it’s a gut feeling.
What I am in no doubt whatsoever about is what happened on Lap 57 of the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix. The greatest pass for the lead in Formula One’s televised history. Obviously, I can’t cite moves which escaped capture by the cameras. Of those we can watch and rewatch though . . . it’s in a league of its own.
“What about Hakkinen on Schumacher at Spa in 2000?” I hear you yell. Nah, that was a glorified slipstreamer with a baffled Zonta stuck in the middle of it.
“Alright, how about Raikkonen on Fisichella at Suzuka in ‘05?” A better candidate certainly but we’re talking about the Traction Control era and Fisichella, with the best will in the world, had knackered himself for 130R by taking a bizarre line through the chicane.
“Well then, know-it-all, how about Villeuenuve and Arnoux at Dijon in 1979?” Oh, I agree that was certainly F1’s greatest televised fight. But its wheel banging, knife fight in a phonebox, thrill had nothing of the style of what Nelson Piquet was about to unleash on a narrow, dusty, low grip racetrack.
Opposite Lock Glory
The setup was exactly the same as Lap 55. Again Piquet came up on Senna’s gearbox. Once again he feinted right, for the inside, and Senna again moved over. This time though Piquet went left and outbroke Senna down the outside. Plunging deep into the corner, on the loose dust, in the low grip area which had given everyone such trouble, Piquet’s rear broke away as the right rear brake locked.
Somehow Piquet caught it, and whilst downshifting and dancing on the pedals he held the car in a beautiful, throttle controlled, power slide. Watch the clip if you can. Holding it looks impossible. Piquet is all crossed up as the car breaks away. Most people would be straight off. Stunningly, he held it though and thus rocketed round the outside and into the lead. It was staggering. It was awesome. It was 1950s and 60s Grand Prix driving in the Aero era. It blew Senna’s doors off. At the chequered flag, he was 18 seconds adrift. Mansell was a lapped third.
Hungary Endures – The Legacy of the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix
Ultimately of course, none of these three men would take the 1986 title. That would be Prost who, through guile, skill and intelligence, the fragility of Senna’s Lotus, and Piquet and Mansell getting in one another’s way constantly, retained his World Championship in a car which lacked the outright speed of its rivals. Hungary had provided a classic race in a classic season. Not bad for a first try!
The Hungaroring remains a proud and storied venue on the calendar. Hungary has seen many other great Formula One races. (Damon Hill’s agony in 1997 and Schumacher’s ecstasy in 1998 spring immediately to mind). The 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix retains its magic. Those who were there that day got to see Formula One put on a superb, honest show, with some great wheel to wheel racing and a worthy winner. No controversy, no whining, nothing referred to the stewards, just proper all out racing.
It was the dawn of a new, more global era for the sport. A stepping stone, for better or worse, on the path that has led to the commercial monster Formula One is today. Above all though it proved that the heart of motor-racing, the drama of competition between men in machines, endures through the capitalistic nonsense. It’s a reminder that there’s a lot to be said for the philosophy and home built enthusiasm of Formula Easter. The simple desire to go racing. That’s what matters.
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