PHOTOS COURTESY OF PORSCHE NA, PORSCHE AG, IMSA
When it comes to sportscar racing legends there are none bigger – or taller! – than Hans-Joachim Stuck. The son of Hans Stuck – the famous “King of the Mountains” of the 1930s Germany’s Silver Arrows team – Stuck Jr followed a decent mid-1970s Formula 1 career (in spite of his 6-feet, 4-inches frame) by finding true sportscar fame, twice winning the 24 Hours of Le Mans for Porsche, and sharing the 1985 World Endurance Championship with his good pal Derek Bell (below, right).
In America, Hans-Joachim also found great success in the 12 Hours of Sebring. Ironically his first success there came against Porsche, as along with Brian Redman, Allan Moffat, and Sam Posey, he scored a landmark success for BMW's North American racing program. But, years later, he was the spearhead of Porsche’s 956 Group C project, which morphed into the fabled 962. Two more wins came in that epic GTP machine at Sebring’s once-around-the-clock race in 1986 and ’88.
“I must say Sebring has been a very special racetrack in my career because it wasn’t a sort of – don’t get me wrong – a real racetrack,” says Stuck. “It was an old airfield, which it still is up to now, on the same concrete, and it required a lot of experience and a lot of braveness to drive fast there. And especially the location there, in the middle of Florida, was good. Nice spectators. Sebring always was an adventure to me because it had always something unexpected, and created some very good memories.
“Overall, Sebring was always one of the great races – together with Le Mans, Monaco, and Indianapolis. When I was a child my father told me: ‘If you want to be a real racing driver, you have to win at least one of these races’. So I can proudly say I won Sebring, and I won Le Mans. Those are races you never forget.”
Sebring has always packed a fearsome reputation as a car killer, due to the bumps of its concrete runways. But Stuck said he always felt secure despite the tremendous speeds and danger of racing there in the mid-1980s.
“I was always lucky,” he says modestly. “Thanks to Norbert Singer [project manager, pictured above] and Roland Kussmaul [engineering ace, and a decent driver himself] and our other guys, we had a very special setup for Sebring. And to be in a Porsche there was not only fantastic, it was also insurance, because Norbert Singer, who created those cars for Porsche, also had the driver’s safety as number one.
“Here, sitting in a Porsche was kind of insurance, and you could really concentrate on the high-speed racing. That was fantastic for a driver, you know. Otherwise, if you were sitting anxious about losing this or that – or the brakes – you couldn’t really go 100 percent with.”
This was front and center in his mind when it came to the 1985 edition at Sebring, when he pulled out a barnstorming pole position lap of over 131 mph in Bob Akin’s Coke-liveried 962. To put that in perspective, Sebring’s unofficial track record today – set by Fernando Alonso in an LMP1 Toyota in 2019 – is only 134 mph…
“Yeah, it was kind of something, you know,” he reflects of that incredible lap. “Bob Akin was a very nice guy, but he also was pretty demanding, which is good as a boss. He said, ‘Look, Hans, it would be nice if we could get pole position for the race because Coca-Cola is having good advertising and spending a lot.’
“And I was really sitting in it before qualifying and thinking where there were still places where I could even go a little bit faster, take a little bit more risk. As you know, in those days you didn’t have, like today in Formula 1, these paved asphalt runoff areas, there was just grass. Any chance you took, you know, it could have been the last chance, in theory! So, it was a good mixture of going very close to 100 percent, taking the risk, and making sure the car was still alive for the race the next day.”
A high-speed puncture in the race put paid to his hopes that year, but he returned in 1986 and won with Akin and Austrian Jo Gartner. This time it was their average speed for the race that was remarkable, at 115 mph over the 12 hours of competition, and they won by eight laps. All this despite losing a left-front wheel in the closing stages!
“That was really incredible, you know,” he laughs. “Normally you never have the idea that you’re losing a wheel in a Porsche. But this one came off. I don’t know why. I talked to the mechanics – maybe there was a little problem with the rim where the nut goes on. It could well be that there was something in between, so it went loose.
“But also it was lucky to lose the wheel in the right place so I could hold the car. I lost the wheel on the straightaway, and then took it with decent speed back to the pits, not to destroy anything. We put a new one on. In those days losing a wheel and winning a race – it doesn’t happen often!”
But along with those triumphs, sadly, came great tragedies. Just a matter of months after his greatest success, Gartner was killed at Le Mans when a suspected transmission failure (the shifter is believed to have engaged fourth and fifth gear simultaneously) occurred at 2:10am. His Kremer Bros.-run 962 turned left into the Mulsanne Straight’s barriers at an estimated 160 mph, then somersaulted down the track, hit a telephone pole, and caught fire. Gartner was killed instantly due a broken neck. He was 32.
“With Jo Gartner… we had a special friendship,” Stuck remembers. “I regret very much when he was killed at Le Mans. Jo wasn’t only a good friend, he was a very good driver. He listened to others, he wanted to learn, and he obeyed the rules we made, especially for Sebring – be careful with overtaking and lapping. It’s a long race. Jo was fantastic in that race. I remember it very well; winning with Jo and Bob Akin was very special.”
In 2001, there was further sadness, as – on the eve of the race – Porsche sportscar veteran Bob Wollek was killed when he was knocked off his bicycle. Known globally as ‘Brilliant Bob’, the four-time Daytona 24 Hours winner (pictured below on his way to success in 1991) was struck in the neck by the mirror of a recreational vehicle traveling in the same direction, and the French racer died instantly.
“One thing I have to say about Sebring: it was also the track where I had a very sad story with my former co-driver and friend Bob Wollek, who got killed. For a long time I felt a little bit guilty because after practice he said, ‘Let’s go home.’ I said, ‘No, I want to go play some golf with friends.’ He said he would go biking instead.
“Then he got hit by a motorhome. For a long time I felt guilty about this, but what can you do? It was a very bad memory from my Sebring races.”
That heady mixture of triumph, danger, crazy fans, camaraderie, and heartbreak is exactly what defines Sebring. Few circuits demand more from both car and driver, and fewer still leave such lasting memories. Yet for a racer who grew up hearing that greatness meant conquering the world’s toughest events, the old Florida airfield ultimately delivered on that promise.
Victories at Sebring and Le Mans placed Hans-Joachim Stuck firmly among endurance racing’s greats – proof that on those cracked concrete runways, bravery, skill, and a little bit of luck could write motorsport history.
