‘I couldn’t believe what I’d just got to do’

The success of a track test depends on the car, the environment and its owner. The car was Porsche 917 chassis 22, painted to look like its Le Mans-winning sister chassis 23. Its greatest claim to fame was to be camera car for the Steve McQueen Le Mans movie. The environment was a dry and deserted Silverstone, the owner you know.

Just like the winner, chassis 22 had a 4.5-litre engine and short tail – even so I thought 580bhp in a car weighing little more than 800kg enough to be getting on with. Richard Attwood took it out to shake it down, brought it back in and proclaimed it to be running perfectly. My turn.

I went out and did a couple of laps to get a feel for it. I was struck not just by the sound of the flat 12, but the lightness of the steering and the slow, methodical nature of the all-synchro gearbox.

Richard was waiting for me, looking impatient. He opened the door and said words to the effect of, “That won’t do at all. Get out there and have a proper go.”

So I did. I drove a 917 as fast as I could make it go. It has sprint gearing so I saw maximum revs in top gear – around 170mph – at least three times every lap. Once, getting greedy with the throttle at corner exit, I felt the tail start to slide wide. One instinctive corrective flick later we were back on course. Richard always said that over the winter of 1969/70 they turned the worst car he’d ever driven into the best; I could see why.

I returned to the pits to find Richard now grinning. “Quite something, isn’t it?” I wasn’t able to speak; I couldn’t believe what I’d just got to do. Over a quarter of a century later, part of me still can’t.