It was as basic as basic could be. Wind up windows, no sunroof, no central locking and no power steering (though I’m not sure that was available then). First stop was my older brother’s flat who looked at it, looked and me and said, ‘try not to write this one off too.’ I laughed. No way was this shiny new car going the same was its ancient, decrepit predecessors.
Until, that is, I took it to Goodwood for my first ever track day. At the time the circuit was near derelict, noise concerns meaning race teams were no longer even able to test there. So track days for road cars were the only way you could drive there and its only source of income.
I started steadily, learned the circuit, or at least thought I had, then on about my fourth lap I came out the chicane in second, revved the peppy little single cam, 105bhp past 6,000rpm and went through the super short gears until I realised Madgwick was approaching just a little faster than expected. No problem: I needed to brake and turn, so I’d just do both at the same time. I was facing the way I came, travelling backwards across the grass before you could say ‘opposite lock.’ In fact I’m not sure I even knew what opposite lock was back then. I remember begging it to stop before the bank, which it duly did. Just.