Old Boy Racer

I drove to Basingstoke last week for a meeting, across country via Petersfield.

It was the finest 90 minutes I had in a car for a long, long time. Turning off the main road, I found a fantastic open stretch of B road; warm dry tarmac, no traffic, and visibility for a mile or more. Then it carried on, running on up the side of the downs and through the woods, then twisting down hairpins to Petersfield. After a gentle potter through the town, the paced picked up along dead straight A roads followed by 25 more miles of twisty stuff.

The Cayman was stupendous; I couldn’t tell you what speeds I reached but at one point I was deep into 5th gear looking for 6th, and at another I’d felt I was practically at a standstill and looked down to see the speedo reading 70. When I arrived at the office I had to spend 5 minutes in the car while my nerves stopped buzzing. I remember thinking that if I’d lost my licence that morning it would have almost been worth it.

SS7