Ben Collins - The Man in the White Suit

THE MAN

IN THE WHITE SUIT

THE STIG, LE MANS, THE FAST LANE AND ME

BEN COLLINS

Copyright

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperCollins Publishers 2010

Copyright © Ben Collins 2010

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780007327966

Ebook Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9780007331703

Version: 2020-02-05

Dedication

Dad, thank you for every opportunity that life brought through your guidance.

Mum, your moral compass is a shining light; thank you for putting up with me.

Epigraph

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.

T. E. LAWRENCE

Contents

Title Page THE MAN IN THE WHITE SUIT THE STIG, LE MANS, THE FAST LANE AND ME BEN COLLINS

Copyright

Dedication Dedication Dad, thank you for every opportunity that life brought through your guidance. Mum, your moral compass is a shining light; thank you for putting up with me.

Epigraph Epigraph All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible. T. E. LAWRENCE

Chapter 1 - Audition

Chapter 2 - Need for Speed

Chapter 3 - Winning

Chapter 4 - Snakes & Ladders

Chapter 5 - Le Mans 24

Chapter 6 - Daytona Endurance

Chapter 7 - The New Stig

Chapter 8 - Green Fatigue

Chapter 9 - Live at Earl’s Court

Chapter 10 - Rockingham

Chapter 11 - Hard Routine

Chapter 12 - Tortoise or the Hare

Chapter 13 - Chin Strap

Chapter 14 - Cowell’s got Talent

Chapter 15 - A Walk in the Park

Chapter 16 - Pass or Fail

Chapter 17 - Happy Landings

Chapter 18 - Stars in Reasonably Priced Cars

Chapter 19 - Driving Blind

Chapter 20 - Taking the Rough with the Smooth

Chapter 21 - If It’s Got Wheels

Chapter 22 - Bitten by the Bug

Chapter 23 - Track Record

Chapter 24 - Match of the Day

Chapter 25 - Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 26 - Jet Man

Chapter 27 - Street Fighting

Chapter 28 - London Calling

Chapter 29 - Pedal on the Right

Chapter 30 - The Scud

Chapter 31 - Untamed: Hampshire Heist

Chapter 32 - Bus Racing

Chapter 33 - Loose Cannon

Chapter 34 - The White Bubble

Chapter 35 - Who is the Stig?

Chapter 36 - Give My Regards to Dunsfold

Epilogue

Photographic Insert 1

Photographic Insert 2

Index

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Audition

Intermittent shafts of sunlight sliced across the damp carriageway through the canopy of trees. Leaves spattered away from the spinning wheels. I still had plenty of time, but this journey was worth enjoying, so I kept pulling gears and cranked the stereo.

The suspension shuddered as I braked hard on the worn tarmac and rounded a long hairpin. The car was busy but my mind, as usual, was elsewhere. Was this a good idea? Who was this guy I was meeting? Where the hell was this place?

I glanced down at my complex route directions, then realised my turning was about to appear on a blind bend. I slowed to check for oncoming traffic before veering off down a track with no discernible markings.

My left thumb clicked at the handbrake button as I toyed with the idea of a sharp about-face. I topped a gentle crest and the view widened. Just past a field of grazing sheep lay a security entrance. Three feet and two inches to the right of the middle of nowhere.

The security guard spilt his tea and leapt to his feet as I pulled up at the gate. He emerged from his cabin and approached my window. ‘Do you know where you’re going?’

‘Yes,’ I lied.

‘Who are you here with?’

That was a trickier one, but I dealt with it.

‘ Oh, OK, just follow the one-way system around.’

I drove into a vast expanse of clear skies, grass, concrete and airfield. The path ahead led to an old DC3 passenger plane. I followed the broken concrete track to the right. An office building stood amongst a haphazard collection of large green metal warehouses. I dropped down a ramp into a staging area in front of a much larger hangar. At the far end of it, on the edge of the airfield, lay a very dilapidated cabin with ‘Production’ daubed on its side. A Harrier Jump Jet was parked in the middle distance.

It seemed I’d arrived at the ‘Studio’. With a little time in hand, I walked the site.

The airfield was as flat as a billiard table, with neat green fields surrounding the tarmac landing strips. I couldn’t make out any kind of circuit in the sea of grey mist. A tired silver tree-line separated the earth from the clear blue sky.

The place must have had a real buzz in its glory days, first during the Second World War and then as a Harrier proving ground. On this still morning I could almost hear the banter of aircrew scrambling to their aircraft.

Now it felt like the Land that Time Forgot. Rusted control panels littered the area. Cracked concrete billets jostled with disused hangars and pebble-dashed Seventies monstrosities.

I paid an obligatory pre-match visit to the nearby loos. Two fresh pieces of graffiti read: ‘Fuck Jeremy Clarkson’ and ‘Richard Hammond is a’. Sadly, Hammond’s eulogy had never been completed. My laughter echoed down the deserted corridor. I felt like a madman.

I returned to the production hut and gave it the once over. A cardboard cut-out of a policeman stood guard at the window beside a larger cut-out still of John Prescott, an ironing board, a moth-eaten mini-sofa and a cluster of toxic coffee cups and Bic biros.

What the hell did they do here?

A worn chair overlooked a grubby telephone which sat, inert, on a filthy wood veneer table. A printed list of ‘key contacts’ was pinned to the wall, belying the cabin’s absence of discernible function.