I remember Mother’s Day 1965 like it was yesterday.

Aged 22 and full of enthusiasm with Channel 7 a week away from commencing outside broadcasts from the Westmead Speedway near Parramatta, I drove out to the circuit with a friend Peter Hagon to catch the speedcar events.

It had rained constantly over two days and a quagmire greeted everyone with track officials trying to grade the slush and mud on to the infield with little success.

Having little or no luck they changed tact, shifting the pile up track alongside the safety.

A meeting of speedcar drivers followed at which everyone was told to ‘cool it’, stay off the outside racing line and just ‘put on a show’ for the big crowd present.

Naturally all eyes were on Offenhauser-mounted Jeff Freeman and his arch nemesis Johnny Stewart.

They were not socially close but respectful of each other’s ability on the race track.

They started from the back of the feature race field with Stewart moving to the outside line and making ground with Jeff hot on his heels.

Everything was going smoothly until Freeman’s Mackay Offenhauser hooked a muddy rut, hit the fence and overturned, crashing cockpit first into a supporting fence post.

Freeman was killed instantly in the wreck and I can still recall the sight of tough-as-teak veteran Kevin Park standing over the cockpit of the crippled car helping to lift Jeff’s lifeless body.

He then walked back to his car, belted up and awaited the re-start of the event that was won by Sid Reed in Ron Ward’s pretty V twin lightweight.

Jeff’s death was lead item on all television news bulletins that evening while the Daily Telegraph and Sydney Morning Herald carried front page stories the next morning.

Because of the intense rivalry between Jeff Freeman and Johnny Stewart, conspiracy theorists had a field day suggesting Stewart was in some way to blame for the death of his rival.

Police investigated their claims and dismissed them as without foundation.

The funeral of Jeffrey Edwin Freeman was attended by a huge crowd and even today the cortege ranks second only to the number of mourners who attended the burial of boxing legend Les Darcy.

Mother’s Day, 1965 is still vivid in my mind though I cannot recall what gift I gave the world’s best mum that morning.