Paul’s story is introduced by reflecting on both his first FF1600 test at Goodwood in November 1985 and his tragic accident at Oulton Park in July of 1991. The objective of doing this is to put the material covered both before and between these two defining events into context. As the project currently stands, the main body of text is split into fourteen chapters; one for Paul’s early life, one covering his Stock Car career and subsequently from 1986 onwards, each full year is allocated two complete sections. Every chapter has an individual relating to the mood portrayed within the text - this is demonstrated in the more detailed discussion given below. Also included in each chapter is a relevant quote by Derek about Paul. Following on from the final chapter, there is a brief epilogue that acts as a closure to the story. There is also a section with a collection of personal tributes along with a set of relevant appendices.

Although primarily a factual account, one of the aims of this biography is to capture the full range of the emotions involved in the telling of Paul’s story as well as attempting to convey to the reader an in-depth understanding of the frustrations an criticisms that he had to put up with. The secondary focus is hoped to be based on the relationship that Paul had with his brother, Derek.

This should be written by some relevant person i.e. friend or colleague, but by Derek Warwick if possible. The content and length is to be left to the individual who will write this, but a personal view of Paul would be ideal.

What is the motivation behind this project? Why should a biography of Paul Warwick be written at all? This section attempts to answer these questions, along with an explanation of why Paul was special, and what made him so different.

The introduction is important in setting the scene for the story, as well as helping to justify the choice of title. It is an attempt at jogging memories, as well as finding a relevant starting point - Paul’s first FF1600 test, which took place at Goodwood in November of 1985. Following on from this is a brief thread that links the beginning of the story to the end - his fatal accident at Oulton Park.

Aspects of Paul’s life from his birth and formative years until his debut in Ministox at the age of twelve. This chapter is dependent on outside help.

Competition debut and successes in Ministox. Also, altering his age on his competition license to move up to Superstox, allowing him to become the youngest ever National Champion. This chapter is dependent on outside help.

Epilogue

The epilogue looks at how the emotions surrounding Paul’s death have changed with the passage of time. One aspect of  this, is how Paul is remembered by those who have not forgotten him - especially when thinking about his life rather than his death. The second theme is the atmosphere that is generated by visiting Paul’s grave, and the contrast it makes with the immediate surroundings.

Requiem

This projected section is a collection of memories and sentiments from people who supported Paul and/or knew him personally. Contributions to this could be in poetry or prose, and each entry is left to the discretion of the individual. The reason for including this is to collate a range of tributes other than those published in the motorsport press after Paul’s death.

Appendices

Paul’s race results, with information such as qualifying performances, general comments, reasons for retirement, entrant, chassis, engine etc, plus any other data that would be hard to place in central body of text.

It was a cold, damp late November day in 1985. Snow fell from leaden skies and swirled in flurries across the Sussex countryside where a bright red Van Diemen RF85 Formula Ford 1600 car buzzed around the forsaken Goodwood tarmac like an insistent hornet. The scene could have been repeated at any other circuit as drivers braved the early winter elements in preparation for the season to come.

An FF1600 car is something of an ungainly creature and on its skinny road-legal tyres can be both a handful yet forgiving at the same time. Despite this, the Scholar-engined Van Diemen was making good progress, the style and precision of the driver evident in the trying conditions. One could almost be forgiven for thinking that the person behind the wheel of the little red car was a seasoned campaigner such was the poise and panache that it was being handled with, but this was not so. The driver in question was still two months short of his his seventeenth birthday, the day on which he could legally drive both a road and competition car. But who was he to display such maturity and car control at such a young age?

Paul Warwick was no starry-eyed aspirant to motor racing greatness. He’d already cut his teeth in the world of short track oval racing, a place where age has no meaning when it comes to disputing space on a cinder-surfaced quarter-mile oval. A champion in both Ministox and Superstox, Paul was no stranger to  tough competition. To shine in stock cars is not easy; battles are fierce, no quarters given and contact between cars is not exactly frowned upon. He was the youngest member of a family steeped in racing pedigree - both his father and uncle had won in stock cars and his older brother, Derek, had gone on to bridge the gap between oval and circuit racing to compete with distinction in both Formula One and Sports Prototypes. This was a young man who, compared to his erstwhile contemporaries on tarmac, had an unorthodox beginning to his motor racing career, yet it were those humble beginnings that ultimately helped him become one of the hottest properties in British motor racing by tempering competitiveness and budding talent into controlled aggression on the race track.

The younger Warwick’s initial rise through the lower formulae was meteoric - inside two seasons of competition he had secured a top drive in Formula Three and had become burdened by the expectations that came with the talent that he showed. Through no fault of his own, hampered by indifferent machinery, intense public criticism and pure misfortune, Paul's career took a nose-dive and for two and a half years he floundered in a category that held precious little reward. At one point, quitting the sport completely was looking like a very real option indeed.

1991 brought a new dawn and an association with another famous name in British motorsports when Paul signed for Mansell Madgwick to contest the British F3000 championship. Seen as a proven feeder for the International series and for Formula One, it would be a real step forward and little did it seem to matter at the time that this was a series for year-old cars because anything was better than enduring the stagnation of F3.

Early-season performances seemed to repay the considerable faith that Derek had in his younger brother and through his F3000 success, Paul reaffirmed that he possessed a rich vein of natural ability that would undoubtedly take him to the very top of the sport. He was a racer through and through - hard but fair, and his performances had the flair shown by the very best. For Derek, and the many others who followed him, not only in 1991 but through the highs and lows of the previous years, Paul Warwick was the very stuff that dreams were made of.

In one moment of annihilation, the dream was over. There was not going to be a fairy tale ending to this story, only the horrible ending that no one had ever anticipated. The memories of a red Van Diemen on a cold and snowy November day seemed an eon away from the fiery aftermath of the tragic events at Oulton Park; the innocence and promise of that first feet-finding now so remote from that feeling of utter despair. The final step to Formula One had been so near, but it had been snatched away by the harsh reality of death.

A tight-knit family had been shattered and torn apart, a man had lost both his beloved brother and his best friend. Derek Warwick was totally devastated by Paul’s needless and untimely death - his life and future have been irrevocably changed. All the aspirations that he held had crumbled to dust between his fingers. Why is it that the hard-hitting realities of life fall upon those who care for their loved ones most? Many grieved upon hearing of the death of such a personable young man, whose gentle kindness in a world of rampant egos was his distinguishing characteristic. This is the story behind it all - his life, his work and his death, a window on a lost dream…

Round 6 of the 1988 British F3 series would end up demonstrating to Paul how fortunes could change by the hour in motor racing and the events at the Silverstone May Bank Holiday meeting would have him experiencing both the heady highs and excruciating (quite literally) lows that the sport could offer. The last couple of races had also left Paul enduring the sometimes bizarre aspects of motor racing but certainly not in the extraordinary manner he was to experience here…

The weekend started well despite the initial confusion brought on by the split qualifying sessions. Paul was drawn in the first of the two groups and gambled on fitting slick tyres for his first run on a damp but drying track. The inspired decision paid off as he set fastest timeon the short National circuit but it could all so easily have finished off by an excursion into the gravel. Martin Donnelly set an identical time but it was Paul who took pole through the fact that his time had been set some fifteen minutes the Ulsterman's. It was thus that Paul earned his maiden F3 pole position, all carried out under the watchful eye of brother Derek who had rushed back from the San Marino Grand Prix to offer guidance and support. A quiet air of confidence surrounded the Eddie Jordan Racing pit but the question hanging on everyone’s lips was if Paul would cope with having such experienced F3 men as Martin Donnelly and Damon Hill immediately behind him on the grid?

From the lights, it seemed that the answer was yes as the bright yellow Camel Reynard surged away from the line and dived into Copse ahead of  the Intersport pairing of Donnelly and Hill. By Becketts however, Donnelly had wormed his way into the lead and Paul’s mirrors were now full of the sister car of Damon Hill. Damon didn’t appear to like the fact that his team mate had taken the lead and was threatening to disappear off into the distance, so he lunged down the inside of Warwick coming into Woodcote. Hill made it through but the extra momentum carried him wide, leaving the opportunity for Paul to take the inside line for Copse and allowing JJ Lehto to close up on them with a view of putting his own pennyworth in.

With the half a car length advantage that he held, Damon tried to shut the door on Paul from the outside line but the Londoner’s move at Copse had an air of desperation about it. Inevitably, the two cars touched, sending both Warwick and Hill into the gravel, leaving the unfortunate Lehto with no option but to lift and take avoiding action. That caused Ratzenberger, Simoes and Guiot to tangle and the resulting mayhem brought out the red flags.

Second time around, Paul’s getaway was not quite so good - his EJR Reynard was swamped by the chasing pack and by the end of the first lap he found himself ensconced in fifth place behind Antonio Simoes with a pack of six cars all vying for the best sighting of his gearbox casing. Gary Brabham came off best of the six, slipping past Paul on the run up to Copse and demoting the young Hampshireman to sixth place. It was not long before it became clear that Simoes had some kind of problem since Brabham passed him with little effort. The Portuguese driver then began slipping into Paul's clutches and by lap six was climbing all over the back of the West Surrey Ralt. On the approach to Becketts, Paul thought that he saw a glimmer of a chance if he became the last of the late brakers but much to his alarm the opening didn’t materialise. Committed as he was to taking the deep line into the corner, Paul suddenly found he had nowhere to go - contact was inevitable and the yellow Reynard was launched up over the rear wheels of Simoes’ car into an arcing double flip.

Paul found himself contemplating the Becketts tarmac from a somewhat unusual perspective during the course of his aerial exploits but was amazingly lucky to get off as lightly as he did. He left Silverstone later in the day with a sore head and a bruised shoulder for his pains and admitted with a wry smile that the gap he had gone for had never really been there and that he had tried to be just that little bit too greedy…

After all the glitz and glamour of Monte Carlo, it was back to domestic F3 action and the familiar surrounds of the Indy circuit at Brands Hatch. Things had started to change at Intersport - frustrated by a string of poor results, Cellnet had decided to strengthen their driving squad by recalling  another one of their retained drivers, Damon Hill, from his Middlebridge F3000 commitments to join Paul and Vincenzo.

It was hardly a marriage made in heaven for the three drivers and the already tense atmosphere in the team became increasingly volatile. Personalities and opinions clashed without reproach, tempers flared as old arguments resurfaced and Paul was the one who suffered, subjected to antagonistic barbs about his racecraft and speed from the F3000 returnee. Unwilling to sink to the level of his new team mate, Paul responded to the taunts in the only way he could - by being the fastest of the three Intersport drivers. He was not one to bite back with harsh words; even when seething with anger inside, Paul’s outward demeanour remained calm and professional. Instead, a few softly-spoken words were enough to give him leave to drive Damon’s car rather than his own on level terms and within a couple of laps he had put the argument comprehensively out of the older man’s reach.

As ever in the media spotlight, Paul could never allow himself the luxury of letting his temper flare in public, even when he was obviously and deliberately being rubbed up the wrong way as was happening here at Brands. This did not mean that he never let his emotions get the better of himself - to his credit, the resulting feelings were usually kept well below the surface until he reached the privacy of his own home. But amongst those who knew him well, the sting of Paul's anger was keenly felt and its edge often cut deep.

Conflicting with the otherwise gentleness of his nature, these moments of pent-up frustration stemmed from the pressure heaped upon him by his family, and father Derry in particular. Paul was not meant to have made motor racing his chosen career as Derek had; he had been expected to take on the running of the family trailer manufacturing business when Derry finally called it a day. Paul’s racing was only reluctantly approved of by his family, but that if anything, increased the pressure on him even though he still had their complete and unwavering support. Therefore it was hardly surprising that Paul’s composure would occasionally crack, particularly when things were not going well, but it was his own ingrained self-restraint which helped him keep his head under pressure and was the reason why Damon Hill’s attempts at laying into him never really stood a chance  - on the track at least. 

Notwithstanding all Damon’s extra experience and the unwelcome attempts at gamesmanship, it was Warwick who set the qualifying pace, 0.02 seconds faster than Hill, and 0.24 seconds faster than Sospiri, who lined-up in 10^th and 16^th places respectively. It was a refreshing sight to see him at the sharp end of things once again and more importantly, Paul had equaled his best grid slot of the year, set in the very first round at Thruxton. At last, the smile and the wry humour was back:

“At least from eighth I can see the pole sitter and then, bam! I’ll dive down inside him and lead into Paddock. Easy!”

As the green light flicked on, Paul easily made the best start of the twenty eight drivers on the grid, hugging the pit wall and going from eighth to fifth on the drag to the first corner and almost living out his pre-race fantasy. Paul spent the next few laps determinedly keeping McNish and Rydell behind him, the three of them quickly latching on to Philippe Adams occupying fourth place in his Bowman Ralt. 

By the time the four of them got to Druids on lap 20 out of 30, Paul was right on the gearbox of Adams’ car, pressuring to make his move and take the place - the Belgian cracked and deposited his car into the gravel. Paul moved up to fourth and grabbed third with just a couple of laps to go, only to lose the potential podium place to Allan McNish in the dying stages. It seemed that Paul had at last hit some form and that the hard and often emotionally draining work of the weekend and the previous months had finally paid off. He had gone home to Hampshire with three championship points in his pocket, his first scoring finish of the season.

On race day a quiet optimism pervaded the Madgwick pit but no one was prepared to make any concrete predictions as to what would happen. While it would never do to tempt fate in any such way, by the time the cars were lined up on the grid for the 30-lap race, the atmosphere at Oulton Park was electric. Amid the maelstrom of pre-race tension Paul was a picture of calm as he waited patiently in his car on the grid, his brother at his side offering advice and more importantly, support. Though he was expecting to do well, Paul was not prepared to take anything for granted - not any more, not after the misery of the previous seasons, but even so, the nerves were jangling.

As the lights turned green, the Madgwick Reynard  almost disappeared from view in a cloud of tyre smoke as Paul grabbed too many revs on the dropped oil of a previous race. The wheelspin made him to lose out to fellow front row man Richard Dean on the run up to Old Hall and allowed Julian Westwood, Frederik Ekblom and Phil Andrews to close right up. A five way battle for the lead ensued - Warwick stood his ground to the three drivers behind him but try as he might, he could not find a way past a determined Dean. By lap five, both Marco Greco and Frederik Gosparini had also joined the queue behind Paul, but the excitement was somewhat dampened by the time penalties handed to Andrews and Ekblom for jumping the start.

For a while the order remained static; Dean, Warwick, Westwood, Ekblom, Andrews, Greco and Gosparini, each unable to get past the man in front. As the race settled down it seemed as though this would become the dominant pattern - that is, unless someone was pressured into a mistake. In the end, it was Richard Dean who cracked because as the train of cars came through Deer Leap to start lap twelve, much to the surprise of the crowd and the evident delight of Derek Warwick, it was the pink, white and blue Madgwick Reynard that was at the head of the field. Under pressure from Paul, Richard had run wide at Druids, clattered over the grass and lost his front wing in the process. Side by side with nary an inch separating them the pair had battled through Lodge Corner, neither man preparing to give way, but with virtually no front downforce left on his car the Yorkshireman had to give up the unequal fight and pit for a new nose.

Richard Dean’s misjudgement had handed Paul the lead and left Julian Westwood as the man now doing the chasing. As each lap was completed the tension increased - it had been so long since Paul had found himself in this situation that no one could even begin to think what was going on in his mind. Would the car last the distance? Would he make a mistake and throw it all away? Would Julian catch him and get past? Derek paced relentlessly up and down the pit lane, seemingly intent on answering those self-same questions. Panic began to set in as Westwood, trying to make amends for oil-induced vision problems earlier in the race, started to take large chunks out of the gap between himself and Paul but try as he might, the Welshman had left his charge just that fraction too late...

Time had ran out and there were no more laps left. Paul's Reynard crossed the line to take the chequered flag with the orange-and-black Lola hard on his heels, and in the same heartbeat that he punched the air with his fist, the Mansell Madgwick pit erupted into wild celebration. There in the midst of it all was Derek Warwick, delirious with joy and so obviously proud of his brother that his heart would have burst with the intensity of the feeling.

For Paul, the victory was beyond sweet. The pain and bitter disillusionment of the past could now at last be put behind him and he could once more look forward to a future that was far brighter and much more promising than it had been for a very long time. In tears as he climbed out of the car, there was no other way to let it all out.