Motors and Me

One season in the Mini Challenge would cost £25,000. Minimum. At least, that’s what Gary Robertshaw of Robertshaw Racing (2004 Mini Challenge Clubsport champion) reckoned. Having spoken to other people about it, however, I reckon I could expect to spend double that. Despite the dizzying numbers, a few weeks back I was seriously considering having a go. I would need sponsorship, of course. I’ve got no desire to take out a loan to fund motorsport — it’s just not sustainable. Funding would have to come from sponsors, at least in part. So, I started to make a list of companies to whom I could pimp myself and the race series. I got information from the organisers of the Mini Challenge about TV viewing figures and their distribution. I started making plans. In the end, though, that’s as far as things went. The point at which my dreams became grounded in reality were when I spoke to my friend, Gav , about it, maybe a couple of weeks back now. He’s the most enthusiastic guy I know, wi

In the words of JeffK ... WINNAR! Last year, I went to the Geneva motor show for the first time (see photos ). Afterwards, I filled in an online questionnaire about the experience — I figure everyone benefits from feedback, so why not? Today, as a result, I won a free ticket to this year’s event in their prize draw. Call it karma. :) Unfortunately, the ticket value is about £6 whereas a return flight would cost over £100. So, I’ll not be going, then. Hardly worth it for the sake of using a £6 freebie. Still, for a brief moment, I felt like the spawniest get alive and was filled with dreams of a triumphant return. Yeah, I know, that’s a bit strange, but what the hell. Maybe next year...

I confess. I broke a hire car. No, I wasn’t doing any Top Gear-style malarkey. I was just pulling out onto a roundabout. A busy roundabout. During rush hour. Okay, so I had to pull out quickly, but you don’t expect the car to die of shock. :-/ Yep, earlier this week, I was out of town on an all-too-rare business trip. A colleague and I took an 05-plate Golf diesel (non-turbo) from the company’s pool of permanent-hire cars. The trip to our top-secret destination was pretty uneventful, but when heading out from the hotel for an evening meal and entertainment, things all went pear-shaped. The eventual verdict from Mr RAC was that the fuel pump had gone. The following day, the hire firm supplied a replacement car — a Vauxhall Astra. Bastards. Still, for someone who rarely changes his car, it was a nice opportunity to remind myself of the motoring landscape beyond the Mini. The Golf was actually pretty decent until it broke down. I wasn’t too keen on the slow steering — actually, it

I blame my parents. From the age of about 9, I’ve lived in a family of Vauxhall cars. First, it was a gold Cavalier, registration TRG 64 Y (funny how you remember those things). Following that came a metallic blue-grey Cavalier, whose registration plate I’ve forgotten. Following that was a metallic blue-grey Senator. It was at this point that I left home and, while that’s a coincidence, I feel I was well within my rights to protest. A couple of years back, my dad retired and so the rusting executive saloon had to go, replaced by… a Vauxhall Zafira. It is a truly awful car . Just sitting in the Zafira as a passenger, it makes you feel sea-sick. It is a car entirely devoid of redeeming features. Until recently, however, I thought the Zafira was as low as my parents would stoop. I was wrong. To go along with it, they’ve now replaced my mum’s trusty, zesty, characterful Cinquecento with… a Vauxhall Agila ! Oh the humanity! There’s a small set of cars that you’d look at and think: “