Gary and me in 1998 with VWU 75L My friend, Gary Martin, has just died of cancer and, perhaps needless to state, I am really upset about it. Being told that he had died was distressing enough but to find out that he’d been suffering from cancer for the last eighteen months and that I didn’t even know about it, was devastating. He was only 53.
I hadn’t seen or even talked to Gary during his illness, we had exchanged occasional emails but his challenges didn’t come up - I feel dreadful that I wasn’t there for him.
Not communicating for so long was hardly unusual for us, Gary wasn’t much of a talker and he was even less of a writer (one fingered, letter by letter typing). Our last email exchange was on the 30/12/2016, he wrote “sorry not been in touch as it has been a difficult year” and suggested “we will have to speak in the near future and have a real catch up” . Unfortunately my life was being overwhelmed by house moving and we didn’t get to have that catch up. I didn’t read between the lines of his email and now feel deeply guilty.
It was Gary’s decision not to tell me how bad things were, I presume that he didn’t want to burden me with his problems. I have to respect that but if I could speak to him now, I’d call him a “silly sod” for keeping schtum. I know that there is sod all that I could have done to fight the cancer but I’d have done my very best to keep his spirits up.
For me, writing helps get my thoughts in order. I never wanted to write an obituary for my friend but I feel the need to do so because it’s quite possible that no one else will. Funerals are often delivered by clergymen that have no real insight into the character they are “processing”, but I knew Gary for more than twenty years. This post will help me get my head around what has happened and allow me to prove to his family that I cared more about him than they might think (at least from my recent lack of communication/awareness anyway).
I first met Gary, and his golden retriever Bruno, back in 1994; the manner of our meeting amuses some because (uninvited), I just went up to his front door and introduced myself. At the time he lived in Barton-Le-Clay, Bedfordshire; I used to drive past his house almost every day on my way to work in Flitwick. Gary had a 1971 Vauxhall Firenza (EXE674J) with an “Old Nail” fibre glass body kit fitted to it. The kit meant the car had a pointy nose cone, large bonnet bulge and flared wheel arches. What was also eye catching was that the car was painted in a very bright shade of yellow. At the time of our meeting, I was driving a 1300 GLS Vauxhall Viva and made a spur of the moment decision that I should say “hello” – my thinking was that we might have some stuff in common.
And it turned out that we did! We became firm friends as a result.
When I knocked on his door, Gary came out, had a look around my motor, showed me around his yellow car and then took a dust cover off of his pièce-de-résistance - a 1974 HPF (AKA the droop snoot Firenza). Gary’s car wasn’t just any droop snoot, it was a Thruxton car (OTP551M) raced at Vauxhall’s special launch event. At the time the car was in need of full restoration, but during our friendship I saw that car brought back to its former glory. In 1999 we even drove it around Thruxton at the silver (25 years) anniversary event.
It was Gary that inducted me into the classic car scene, we went to the Luton Festival of Transport together, he introduced me to the Vauxhall Heritage Centre, we both collected model cars, we toured the local scrap yards and he took me to my first all Vauxhall car club event at Billing Aquadrome. Regular readers will know that event has been on my “go to” list every single year since 1996.
Gary was an interesting chap, from what I know, he had been a jack-the-lad kind of character in his younger days but had been hit by a perfect storm of problems, a messy relationship breakdown, the loss of his dealership service manager job, financial difficulties and then depression. When I first met him, he was on the agoraphobic scale and would have anxiety attacks when faced with going to places he didn’t know.
Despite his demons, Gary was kind of heart and generous of spirit, if he could help you, he would. In terms of helping me, we pulled the engine out of my Viva together and replaced it with another (from his shed). From the same shed, he gave me my first tropical fish tank set up, the tank the filters, the heater etc. Though that particular tank is now long gone, I have kept tropical fish ever since. If you look in my seventies gallery, the big brown lamp with the tall shade came from Gary.
In the mid-nineties, Gary sold his house in Barton and moved in with his father. His dad had a bungalow on the Norfolk coast in a little seaside village called Scratby. Yeah I know, you’ve probably never heard of it. To be fair, if Roy Chubby Brown sang a song about Scratby, it would go along the lines of “Scratby, Scratby, where the fuck is Scratby?”
The move was good for Gary because it eased his financial woes and meant that he could enjoy his dad’s company too. He got on with rebuilding his life and his confidence. The move to Norfolk didn’t end our friendship, I went to see him as regularly as I could.
Even over the last few years, whenever the Baldwins were holidaying in Norfolk, I’d make sure I spent some time with Gary – to be honest, half the reason we had breaks in Norfolk was so that I could.
One thing that he was always good at was pool, whenever I went down, we’d head over to his local pub, the California Tavern, take to the table…and he’d thrash me. For every ten frames we played, I might win one!
It was in Scratby that Gary restored a 1973 Vauxhall Firenza (VWU 75L) that I went on to buy from him. I loved that car, it was my third Vauxhall Viva derivative and the best one of the lot. It even won a “Highly Commended Restoration” award at the Vauxhall Viva Owners Club event at Bressingham in 1998 (see photo).
The best thing though for Gary about being in Scratby was that he got to meet Lesley. They got married, Gary acquired a family and later became a grandad. His life was the most happy and fulfilled it had ever been and it is such a shame that he/they didn’t get to have more of it.
I found out that he had died because his step son, Daniel, got in touch via this website on Sunday 6th August. Gary was a regular reader and his family knew how they could find me as a result. Bizarrely I had only been thinking of him that very day because I had been to the American Automobile Club International event at Kelmarsh Hall. I had wandered around the rows of cars thinking about how much he would have liked some of them too. To find out later that he had died on the Saturday was a horrible shock.
Ironically, having been out of touch with Gary for so long, I was on the phone to his family within minutes. I subsequently got on the detective trail to find some of his other buddies.
What makes matters worse for me is that the Baldwin family summer holiday starts next weekend and it is therefore probable that I will miss his funeral. I am struggling to come to terms with that because I’ll have failed my friend again – makes me rather emotional when I think too much about it.
So to Lesley and Daniel and Gary's brothers, David and Trevor, I would like to say – Gary was a good bloke, I liked him a lot and I am grateful that I knew him. He added value to my life (I think/hope I added some to his) and I am going to miss him. I am terribly sorry for your loss and I apologise unreservedly for not being there to help him through the darkest of his days.
Gary was too young to go and I can’t help but reflect on my own mortality because he wasn’t much older than me. Thinking about my demise makes me realise that I’ll have to change some of my own end of life provisions. My standing instruction to Mrs Baldwin was that when I pop my clogs, Gary was to have all of my motoring memorabilia (crikey he helped me collect enough of it and would properly appreciate it). Mrs B. and the kids don’t understand the fascination and without guidance would simply throw everything away. Not sure what I’ll do now.
For my other friends out there (Steve Parker or Chris Williams for example) where, aside from Christmas cards, we haven’t communicated for so long; for God sake let’s do something about that. Sometimes life is a lot shorter than we expect it to be.
R.I.P. Garry Martin 31/08/1963 – 05/08/2017
I hadn’t seen or even talked to Gary during his illness, we had exchanged occasional emails but his challenges didn’t come up - I feel dreadful that I wasn’t there for him.
Not communicating for so long was hardly unusual for us, Gary wasn’t much of a talker and he was even less of a writer (one fingered, letter by letter typing). Our last email exchange was on the 30/12/2016, he wrote “sorry not been in touch as it has been a difficult year” and suggested “we will have to speak in the near future and have a real catch up” . Unfortunately my life was being overwhelmed by house moving and we didn’t get to have that catch up. I didn’t read between the lines of his email and now feel deeply guilty.
It was Gary’s decision not to tell me how bad things were, I presume that he didn’t want to burden me with his problems. I have to respect that but if I could speak to him now, I’d call him a “silly sod” for keeping schtum. I know that there is sod all that I could have done to fight the cancer but I’d have done my very best to keep his spirits up.
For me, writing helps get my thoughts in order. I never wanted to write an obituary for my friend but I feel the need to do so because it’s quite possible that no one else will. Funerals are often delivered by clergymen that have no real insight into the character they are “processing”, but I knew Gary for more than twenty years. This post will help me get my head around what has happened and allow me to prove to his family that I cared more about him than they might think (at least from my recent lack of communication/awareness anyway).
I first met Gary, and his golden retriever Bruno, back in 1994; the manner of our meeting amuses some because (uninvited), I just went up to his front door and introduced myself. At the time he lived in Barton-Le-Clay, Bedfordshire; I used to drive past his house almost every day on my way to work in Flitwick. Gary had a 1971 Vauxhall Firenza (EXE674J) with an “Old Nail” fibre glass body kit fitted to it. The kit meant the car had a pointy nose cone, large bonnet bulge and flared wheel arches. What was also eye catching was that the car was painted in a very bright shade of yellow. At the time of our meeting, I was driving a 1300 GLS Vauxhall Viva and made a spur of the moment decision that I should say “hello” – my thinking was that we might have some stuff in common.
And it turned out that we did! We became firm friends as a result.
When I knocked on his door, Gary came out, had a look around my motor, showed me around his yellow car and then took a dust cover off of his pièce-de-résistance - a 1974 HPF (AKA the droop snoot Firenza). Gary’s car wasn’t just any droop snoot, it was a Thruxton car (OTP551M) raced at Vauxhall’s special launch event. At the time the car was in need of full restoration, but during our friendship I saw that car brought back to its former glory. In 1999 we even drove it around Thruxton at the silver (25 years) anniversary event.
It was Gary that inducted me into the classic car scene, we went to the Luton Festival of Transport together, he introduced me to the Vauxhall Heritage Centre, we both collected model cars, we toured the local scrap yards and he took me to my first all Vauxhall car club event at Billing Aquadrome. Regular readers will know that event has been on my “go to” list every single year since 1996.
Gary was an interesting chap, from what I know, he had been a jack-the-lad kind of character in his younger days but had been hit by a perfect storm of problems, a messy relationship breakdown, the loss of his dealership service manager job, financial difficulties and then depression. When I first met him, he was on the agoraphobic scale and would have anxiety attacks when faced with going to places he didn’t know.
Despite his demons, Gary was kind of heart and generous of spirit, if he could help you, he would. In terms of helping me, we pulled the engine out of my Viva together and replaced it with another (from his shed). From the same shed, he gave me my first tropical fish tank set up, the tank the filters, the heater etc. Though that particular tank is now long gone, I have kept tropical fish ever since. If you look in my seventies gallery, the big brown lamp with the tall shade came from Gary.
In the mid-nineties, Gary sold his house in Barton and moved in with his father. His dad had a bungalow on the Norfolk coast in a little seaside village called Scratby. Yeah I know, you’ve probably never heard of it. To be fair, if Roy Chubby Brown sang a song about Scratby, it would go along the lines of “Scratby, Scratby, where the fuck is Scratby?”
The move was good for Gary because it eased his financial woes and meant that he could enjoy his dad’s company too. He got on with rebuilding his life and his confidence. The move to Norfolk didn’t end our friendship, I went to see him as regularly as I could.
Even over the last few years, whenever the Baldwins were holidaying in Norfolk, I’d make sure I spent some time with Gary – to be honest, half the reason we had breaks in Norfolk was so that I could.
One thing that he was always good at was pool, whenever I went down, we’d head over to his local pub, the California Tavern, take to the table…and he’d thrash me. For every ten frames we played, I might win one!
It was in Scratby that Gary restored a 1973 Vauxhall Firenza (VWU 75L) that I went on to buy from him. I loved that car, it was my third Vauxhall Viva derivative and the best one of the lot. It even won a “Highly Commended Restoration” award at the Vauxhall Viva Owners Club event at Bressingham in 1998 (see photo).
The best thing though for Gary about being in Scratby was that he got to meet Lesley. They got married, Gary acquired a family and later became a grandad. His life was the most happy and fulfilled it had ever been and it is such a shame that he/they didn’t get to have more of it.
I found out that he had died because his step son, Daniel, got in touch via this website on Sunday 6th August. Gary was a regular reader and his family knew how they could find me as a result. Bizarrely I had only been thinking of him that very day because I had been to the American Automobile Club International event at Kelmarsh Hall. I had wandered around the rows of cars thinking about how much he would have liked some of them too. To find out later that he had died on the Saturday was a horrible shock.
Ironically, having been out of touch with Gary for so long, I was on the phone to his family within minutes. I subsequently got on the detective trail to find some of his other buddies.
What makes matters worse for me is that the Baldwin family summer holiday starts next weekend and it is therefore probable that I will miss his funeral. I am struggling to come to terms with that because I’ll have failed my friend again – makes me rather emotional when I think too much about it.
So to Lesley and Daniel and Gary's brothers, David and Trevor, I would like to say – Gary was a good bloke, I liked him a lot and I am grateful that I knew him. He added value to my life (I think/hope I added some to his) and I am going to miss him. I am terribly sorry for your loss and I apologise unreservedly for not being there to help him through the darkest of his days.
Gary was too young to go and I can’t help but reflect on my own mortality because he wasn’t much older than me. Thinking about my demise makes me realise that I’ll have to change some of my own end of life provisions. My standing instruction to Mrs Baldwin was that when I pop my clogs, Gary was to have all of my motoring memorabilia (crikey he helped me collect enough of it and would properly appreciate it). Mrs B. and the kids don’t understand the fascination and without guidance would simply throw everything away. Not sure what I’ll do now.
For my other friends out there (Steve Parker or Chris Williams for example) where, aside from Christmas cards, we haven’t communicated for so long; for God sake let’s do something about that. Sometimes life is a lot shorter than we expect it to be.
R.I.P. Garry Martin 31/08/1963 – 05/08/2017
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