Deep Sanderson DS301: The mouse that roared

| 22 May 2014

It was pretty tough to grab headlines at the 31st running of the world’s most famous endurance race at Le Mans in 1963. But if anything came close to upstaging the mighty Ferrari 250GTOs on their full debut, the Cobras’ brutal – but ultimately failed – coup, or the astonishing attrition rate that led to just 12 classified finishers, it was the news that a 997cc Mini-powered racer had blasted through Les Hunaudières café speed-trap on the Mulsanne Straight at 152.6mph. In the blink of an eye, a little equipe from Acton (the ‘Deepy’ team as it was known in the pitlane) went from a last-minute arrival, which missed practice and struggled through scrutineering, to the shoestring-budget folk heroes of the event.

Deep Sanderson

The Deep Sanderson that achieved this feat was the brainchild of racer, designer and maverick Chris Lawrence at the suggestion of trusty lieutenant Len Bridge. The name, supposedly derived from the jazz tune Heep Sanderson and Lawrence’s mother’s maiden name, had first adorned his Formula Junior racers, which used his pioneering LawrenceLink front suspension. Having made his name by dominating the production sports car scene with a Morgan +4, and having cleaned up in class at Le Mans in 1962, Lawrence started to cast his net further.

For a bizarre humpbacked first effort – dubbed the ‘perfume delivery wagon’, but testing the formula of a rear-mounted Mini engine – the chassis for the DS301 was designed by an old Navy pal of Lawrence, Andrew Wallace, as a folded steel backbone. His use of mild steel proved too flimsy, however, so it was redesigned with a solid tube down the middle. The body was (re)formed by Williams & Pritchard, the firm that seemed to have a hand in all low-production and special-bodied gems of the era. According to Lawrence, there was nowhere else to go: “Boy, they were expensive, and exorbitant on my budgets, but they were so far ahead of anyone else. Charlie Williams was the absolute master.”

Deep Sanderson

The car that W&P constructed was to be the only ally-bodied Deep Sanderson and it made its debut, in Primrose and registered 2 ARX, at the Racing Car Show at Olympia in January 1962. Lawrence recalls returning to the stand after the show and spotting a pair of bottoms in the air as two besuited men crawled under his car. When they emerged, he recognised them as Mike Costin and Colin Chapman. He makes no claim that the Lotus Elan backbone chassis was a result of this encounter, but he likes to tease the idea. As well as being a publicity tool and driving sales brochure, this car had another purpose: Le Mans. Having missed the test weekend – as much a LawrenceTune hallmark as its annual skirmish with the ACO – the car arrived just before the race, with a Downton engine, single Weber 45, Mini Cooper front discs and a 21-gallon fuel tank in the nose. After a sandpit-influenced, 42-minute lap for Chris Spender in the second session, and the later failure of the brakes, Lawrence decided to run solo. So he did for eight hours until, then running second in class to the Boyer/Verrier Alpine, he was black-flagged for an average-speed infringement incurred long before midnight. The stats show that the Deep, car 44, completed 110 laps and was the only car in its class capable of running to the finish.

Deep Sanderson

The foray certainly generated interest. So much so that Microplas of Mitcham used this car to take moulds that were used for the 29 cars that followed, put together by former Lawrence employee John Pearce under a temporary shelter at the side of his mobile home in Southall.

Meanwhile, Lawrence – then with co-driver Gordon Spice – was still aiming for Le Mans glory and went back the following year with a bigger engine and a 2.9:1 final drive. Downton’s Daniel Richmond agreed to build two 1325cc engines, but the pair then fell out over their non-delivery and Sid Enever’s team at Abingdon finished the job on 1296cc units just four days before the race. There were similar traumas over the Jack Knight castings that would allow the in-unit ’box to be operated from the other side, as was necessary with a rear-mounted engine.

Deep Sanderson

The ally Deep was joined by a glassfibre example for Jim Donnelly and Huw Braithwaite, but that was written off in practice. Head-gasket failure put paid to 2 ARX’s chances, but not before Spice went through the trap at 158.6mph. It may have been a failure on paper, but with hindsight it was a miracle they were there at all.

That wasn’t quite the end of the story. The DS302 appeared in 1968, with a 116E Cortina engine and Hewland ’box but, thanks to Lawrence selling the patent for his suspension to Rover and subsequently being barred by Spen King from using it, a conventional front set-up. It resulted in another unsuccessful assault on La Sarthe – thanks, again, to the strictly correct but rather “stringent” application of the regulations. And there the Deep saga really did end.

Deep Sanderson

Except that the cars live on. Today, still dressed in the green that a Belgian repairman painted it after a crash on its first outing at the ’Ring, ‘2 ARX’ is as feral as it was in period. Restored by Lawrence, it returned to Le Mans for the Classic in 2004 and is now owned and campaigned by Guy Loveridge – and maintained by its maker.

Driving it, you realise how close to insanity Lawrence and his cohorts must have been to take on the world in this car. For a test drive, when sheer exhilaration tends to push the rawness into the shade, it is fine, but the idea of 24 hours at 10/10ths in the Deep is as claustrophobic as the cockpit itself when it steams up with condensation. Imagine a (much) louder Mini, with no comfort whatsoever beyond the seat. Even after a few hours in the Deep you feel as if you’ve survived 12 rounds with Tyson or a spin cycle in a washing machine drum, but so focused on the prize was Lawrence that he was prepared to endure that kidney-punching for hours on end.

On the other hand, the roar from that little engine is thoroughly intoxicating, like a piccolo orchestra at full blast. And its speed is captivating. The biggest problem we have is the gearbox. “It’s the right Jack Knight kit,” says Lawrence, “but it’s not quite right.” And he is, er, right. The linkages appear to be the problem as much as the ’box, with ratios easy to find initially, but the system loosening until there is so much play that you have no idea which gear you are in. “It’ll get better,” says Lawrence. “I will make it work.”

Deep Sanderson

Yet for the brief spell when the Deep is on song, when the beehive of an engine buzzes and the car skates along the road, you really can feel what is possible. Susceptible to bumpsteer – on a farm track, admittedly – it is otherwise lightning quick. Give it enough revs and the rear wheels will squirm terrifyingly with any upchange. Plough into a corner and the more stupendous your speed, the more stupefied you will be at how well the car glides around. The advice from Lawrence is simple: “Don’t get scared, you’ll be surprised.” And he’s right. Without that counsel, most unlobotomised drivers would chicken out long before they even start to explore the Deep’s limits. Like bursting through an unseen barrier, this car kids you that it is on the limit a good 80% before it is, and then you really start to understand that headline figure of 150mph-plus from a Mini engine. It’s Spartan and, to a degree, cobbled together, but that is also its greatness.

This is a car that rewards commitment – rather like its creator, who is occasionally frustrated by his racer even today but retains an affection for it that will never dim. “Nothing means as much to me as the Twinny and the DS301,” says Lawrence. “They were the only projects I was ever involved with that were totally mine.”

This article was originally published in the July 2010 issue of Classic & Sports Car magazine, which retains the copyright to all words and images. Click here to see the terms and conditions.

Words: James Elliott; pictures: James Mann