Never, ever will I forget McRae lining up a Ford Focus WRC for a sixth-gear left-hander, a good 100 or so yards before the apex. For far too long, the pair of us stared out of my window to see what was coming in this particular flat-chat section.
And at least one of us had at least one eye shut.
Anybody can do skids and play with a car in third or fourth gear, but to do that nearing the limiter in top between the trees and the monstrous drops that line Whinlatter Forest marked out McRae as a top-drawer hero’s hero.
But that was never in question was it. To see him in his pomp, backing a Group A Impreza into corners, unsettled but completely controlled on the throttle was to witness true genius.
McRae lived on a line few feared to even acknowledge, let alone approach in terms of speed and commitment.
This fearless titan of our time scored some outrageous wins, endured some enormous crashes and was revered in a way no driver was before him or will be after him.
Fans lining Goodwood’s hill will never see the like of Colin McRae again.
And for those who were there that June day just over 10 years ago, hold that memory of that drift and that donut. And for those who weren’t, take a moment today and think back to one corner, one moment. One McRae.
Photography courtesy of LAT