When I was a young idiot clutching my freshly minted driving licence, one of my closest friends was called Ben, and not just because he had a Fiesta XR2 while I only had a 2CV. Ben was like me: obsessed with cars but a better, more natural driver.
I’m not sure how either of us made it out of our teens alive, but the only thing I ever wrote off was his go-kart when I set out to prove wrong his contention that there was no corner it would not negotiate however fast you were travelling. Down his drive, flat out, hard right, kart on driver, egg on face and that was that. But at least I’d made my point.
Over the years both of us progressed to more serious toys, the difference being he owned his. The first Formula 1 car I ever drove was his Fittipaldi F5a but probably the most memorable day I spent with him was at Hethel comparing his V12 Eagle Weslake – to my eyes the most beautiful F1 car there has ever been – to a Lotus 49. I drove it, fast I think, but then Ben got in and was something else. He later won his class at the Monaco Historics despite spinning 360 degrees coming down the hill from Casino Square. I was meant to be in the same race in his Cooper-Maserati T86B but it was denied an entry despite it being the last Cooper to do an F1 race, the last Maserati-powered car to do an F1 race and the fact it had come ninth at Monaco in 1969 with Vic Elford driving. Always wondered about that.
