Ben Collins

The Man in the White Suit


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      THE MAN

       IN THE WHITE SUIT

      THE STIG, LE MANS, THE FAST LANE AND ME

      BEN COLLINS

      Copyright

      HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2010

      Copyright © Ben Collins 2010

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

      While every effort has been made to trace the owners of copyright material reproduced herein and secure permissions, the publishers would like to apologise for any omissions and will be pleased to incorporate missing acknowledgements in any future edition of this book.

      A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

      HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

      Source ISBN: 9780007327966

      Ebook Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9780007331703

      Version: 2020-02-05

      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

      Copyright

       Dedication

       Epigraph

      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