During my very short racing career, I became fascinated with the reaction of the racing fraternity towards each other as well as the reaction of the public towards the racing fraternity.
    Remarks from other racers such as, “Turn on the nitro, mate!” “Here comes David and Goliath!” and “You’ll never get that ‘modest gentleman’s racing carriage’ round the hairpin” – to which the Roadster did eventually succeed – gave me the feeling of there being a very special camaraderie between individual racers. Something which seemed to prevail despite the competitiveness and regardless of the particular vehicle involved or success or otherwise of the individual racer.
    As for the public’s impression of those involved with all things motorised and competitive, there seemed, quite regardless of the prowess or otherwise of the racer in question, a very definite kudos related to the sport.
      At Crystal Palace on one occasion, while inspecting how other drivers were handling a particularly difficult corner, a young couple came up to me and asked which car I was driving. Smiling blankly and backing nervously away, I blurted out, “The two-tone blue one.” At this they grinned contentedly at each other and back at me, then turned and headed on their way. Little did they realise how misplaced was their admiration.
    Still, I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy the elevated feeling while it lasted – and understood a little more of the motivation behind this sport, a sport to which I was patently very much later joining than is the norm.