Motorsport's driven man

The nomination "chief steward" can conjure up a vision of a grim-faced, dark-suited individual intent on finding something wrong ? rather than finding things that are right.
But Wanganui man Kelvin Booth doesn't suffer from "white coat syndrome", says Manfeild Park racecourse founder Rob Lester.
Booth was recently a recipient of Motorsport New Zealand's "services to motorsport award", an honour applauded by man and Lester tells why.
"I have a great admiration for Kelvin, a very good guy. He became involved with Manfeild early and was one of the more cerebral of our helpers, if I can put it that way."
In fact after a few early years of motor-trialling around the Manawatu in the late 1960s, Booth became the first chief timekeeper at Manfeild. That was 30 years ago, and now Booth ? more often than not ? is in effect boss man at Manfeild in his role as chief area three steward for Motorsport New Zealand.
"We dealt with him on a regular basis for 10 years in that capacity," says Lester, who now lives in Turangi. Lester says Booth's approach is not one of the white coat brigade.
"That's the thing. We've had plenty of those over the years (at Manfeild). The secret was to promote them sideways and make them think they were going upwards. We had to do a bit of that because we had 150-odd volunteers we had to deal with," Lester said. "Kelvin's nothing like that."
So it appears. Booth is approachable, apparently unflappable, and not prone to changes of mood.
He himself tells a story of his long-time co-driver in rallies through the early-mid 1970s, one Dick Marlow, from Palmerston North, a man who could change mood.
After a few years of car-trailing with Brian Green, Wayne Lynch and Barbara Brown in the Manawatu area from 1967 onwards, Booth and Marlow struck up a partnership in rallying, competing in most local and national events for several seasons ? and with some success.
But Booth was usually the navigator, and Marlow the driver. "I drove with Dick in the Heatway Rally of 1973, Christchurch-to-Auckland, seven days. Part was going through the West Coast at night, on the icy roads.
"At that point Dick did the driving and I did the navigating, because we liked it that way. He was a better driver than me, and I was the better navigator.
"But when we came to Greymouth, Dick said, 'you drive, I'll navigate. But before we left the town I had a quick look at the map because I knew that with Dick's navigation, the chances of us getting there were fairly slim," joked Booth. Sure enough, a couple of missed roads later, Marlow makes a left call from the navigator's seat.
"I took that left, knowing full well that that we weren't going where we should be going ? but that we had plenty of time. And we ended-up in a no exit area, at which point Dick threw up his arms in horror and said, 'That does it. I'm going to sleep, you drive."
Booth says he and Marlow were chalk and cheese, and that's probably why they got on so well.
"He was over 6ft, I was somewhat shorter and tubbier. I was reasonably laidback, Dick could be fiery and took no nonsense ? but I just used to laugh when Dick let go," Booth said. Such is his approach to life.
But the rallying finished when Booth moved to Wanganui in 1977, but before he left Palmerston North he and a friend (Bill Mason) had put together a hill-climb special from bits and pieces, a car that was eventually to end up as his well-known "Taipan Special", a machine he's trying to get back into action for a Wanganui Car Club jubilee in November after a competitive break of four-five years.
It was a mid-engined VW, with a V6 Ford engine sitting in the back seat, and the pair used it for auto-crosses and dirt-track racing. "It was a bit of a bitser," said Booth.
That was 1977 ? and that machine, or its developed form, is now sitting in the shed at the Booth house, waiting for work when he can afford the time.
Over the years it's battled its way through many hill-climbs and other forms of sport. But how did it become the Taipan Special?
"It's the same car now, although it's a little bit like the Welshman's Axe, bits and pieces have changed. Of the original, all that's left is the rear safety hoop, and part of the bracing on the floor that the seat sits on.
"It got to the stage where I thought: Enough of this, this is too much a bitser, so I got halfway through building a brand-new chassis, and then had a major ding in the car. "I had the two (car and new chassis) lined up alongside each other in the shed. I stood and looked at them one day, said, 'hold on, the back on that one's alright, the front on this one's alright ? chop, chop chop ? I joined them together, modified it slightly and got the current special." He was searching for a name to go along with the AC Cobras of this world.
"I was reading names, saw Taipan, thought, 'heck, that's pretty deadly," and that was it."
So the Taipan has been rocketing around (except for the break) since 1977, and Booth means to have it going again for the Car Club 50th.
Stewarding has taken much of his time in recent years. It was something he started in 1983 when a vacancy occurred, and he's developed it ever since to the stage where Lester says, "he's very highly regarded throughout New Zealand." Hence the Motorsport New Zealand award.
In his spare (work) time he's a driving tester, in his other spare time he watches motorsport on television ? especially the grand prix scene late at night.
As long as it has wheels and an engine, then Kelvin Booth's interested.
But he's interested in people too, and seems to have a unique skill to deal with both at the same time and make them feel wanted.