Simply titled Murray Walker, his 2002 autobiography carried the sub-heading 'Unless I’m very much mistaken'. Murray is affectionately regarded by so many because of his oh-so human errors. The transformation from another enthusiastic man-at-the-mike to a national treasure, one apparently talking with his trousers on fire, featured such famous gaffes as: “there’s nothing wrong with the car, except it’s on fire,” or “Prost can see Mansell in his earphones.” They endeared him to listeners and viewers, worldwide, yet I’ve never seen a more thorough researcher at early morning work.
Behind that affable and self-deprecating manner, Murray is a shrewd judge of men and motors. So, what did he choose to drive in a motoring life that stretches back to teenage years? We went to Murray Walker’s New Forest home to find out.
Our interview was conducted in a study lined with memorabilia collected not just in Murray’s lengthy career, but also contains memories of his father, Graham, a world-class motorcycle racer, who was also an established BBC commentator. Murray straddled a large and silver balloon for much of our generously extended chat, underlining that this eighty year-old has been a gym and swimming pool regular for most of his adult life, accounting for his immense vitality.
Because of his father’s racing fame, motorcycles were always part of Murray’s life, and a 1928 Ariel Colt 250cc was his first mount. However, in the interests of a good story you could say Mr Walker’s early wheels were chain-linked and lethal! For at 18 years of age, Murray reported to Bovington Army Camp, Dorset, home to tanks and the Royal Armoured Corps: today there is also a very fine museum of tanks from all nations.
Murray recalled, “driving on four wheels was something new. We had to learn on a Ford 15 hundredweight truck, which had a V8 engine and whose clutch was either in or out. Get it right and you went: get it wrong and you stalled.” He added, ‘ I’ll never forget the first time I drove a tank. It was a 20 ton Crusader and I can still feel the thrill as I hunkered down into the driver’s compartment with its 340 bhp, 12-cylinder, liberty engine thundering away behind me.” That was in 1942, so there were terrifying times ahead. Although he does not make a fuss about it, Murray saw action from the D-day landings across Europe into Germany, via Holland, part of the Royal Scots Greys historic actions. Murray never did take a driving test, because his army proficiency certificate was adjudged sufficient when he emerged from the military in 1947.
Postwar, Murray did compete on a number of motorcycles and grins at the memory of competing against some great future champions, including John Surtees, the only man two win World titles on two and four wheels. Typically, Murray wryly observes: “all I saw of Surtees was his leather clad backside disappearing into the distance!”
Although his first broadcast came for BBC radio from Silverstone in 1949, the advertising business shaped much of his postwar motoring. He spent many years balancing the dual demands of broadcasting and a successful business career, one that progressed from copywriting for Aspro to executive status at Masius Wynne-Williams advertising agency between 1961-82.
“ People think I’ve had a profusion of personal motor cars, but the truth is that many of the motor cars I drove daily were business cars and far from exotic, “ recalled Murray. “In fact, he continued, “ when I was at Masius, what I drove was determined by the clients we had, and there was a period when I could have anything I liked, so long as it was a Vauxhall. I didn’t fancy the Viva, so had all their other Vs: Victor, Viscount and then the Ventora—which we advertised as, The Lazy Fireball, “ Murray chuckled.
Of course, there were personal motorcycles and cars. “My first postwar car was a Morris Minor, which was written off when my fourth choice navigator took over the wheel, went neither left nor right at a Y-junction and found a very solid brick wall, which we hit…Hard!”
Murray continued, “My second personal 4-wheeler was a Standard Ten with very avant garde duotone grey and maroon paintwork”. Unfortunately, this pristine vehicle’s sparkling appearance was not improved by regular travel to the Slough Trading Estate, where the factory grime emitted by the factories of current and future clients Aspro and Mars ruined said paint. A Wolseley 1500 was deceptively sold to him, “ about a month before the sportier model—the twin carburettor Riley 1.5—appeared. The salesman swore there would be no sporty version of the 1500, but the Riley, a badge engineered version of the same car, was out almost before the ink had dried on my cheque” said Murray wistfully.

His first business car was not a Vauxhall, but a hard-worked Austin A40 Farina (one of the first hatchbacks) followed by a comprehensively modified Triumph Herald estate. Murray chortled as he remembered that the A40: “ spent a lot of its life batting between London and York as I met my motorcycle broadcasting commitments”. Such road mileage, before the age of motorways and with the A1 in a primitive state, left little time for necessities like food. However, Mr and Mrs Walker found a time-efficient solution to that little snag. “We had a baby Calor Gas cooker in the footwell,” explains Murray, “and Elizabeth used to heat up stew for us as we travelled!”