When I first got my own Cadet kart, I knew very little about driving, and my mum and dad knew even less about karting. Which is how I found myself at Whilton Mill in September 2018 for my race debut there, in the pouring rain.
Dad had got some old, rock-hard used wet tyres with the kart and thought they would be fine. The kart had a few basic tweaks for the wet, but really it was still set up for the dry, and I was on old, worn wet tyres that were way past their best.
Three heats and a final followed.
I spun lots and lots.
I didn’t finish the first race, and for the rest of the day I was miles off the pace, being lapped and spinning at what felt like every corner.
At the time I thought it was all me. Looking back now, while it was still me driving, it was a huge ask to race that kart, on those tyres, with that setup, against some of the best Cadet drivers in the UK at the time.
But I now look back at that weekend as the point where I really started thinking about grip.
I was almost dizzy from the spins, but each time I was learning a little more about feel, how quickly I needed to use my hands and feet, and how the kart behaved when it was right on the edge.
That shocking, rubbish debut in soaking wet conditions probably started the whole fascination with grip.
It was around six months before Dad bought a proper set of caster pills for the kart and learned how to do a full wet setup. Thankfully another parent stepped in on the tyre side and told Dad that the wets we were using were basically useless.
So through that winter we raced in some awful conditions and, quite often, without a particularly good kart underneath me. But looking back, that didn’t really matter because I learned so much about the relationship between the tyre and the track.
I had to find my own sense of balance, that feeling that starts in your bum and then your brain quickly works out what is happening. The best way I can describe it is learning to walk along a balance beam without falling off.
Dad helped me a lot by being a terrible mechanic and strategist.
Quite a few times I ended up on slicks in the wet.
At first I hated it. Everything felt turned up to 11 and the brakes and throttle seemed useless, or at least I thought they were. But I’m stubborn like Mum and I didn’t want the conditions to beat me.
Slowly I started to trust the tyre more, move my body around and stop relying so much on the steering wheel. The kart would start to steer through throttle, braking and weight transfer, and suddenly everything began to make more sense.
One session at Shenington really sticks in my mind.
I went out on old slicks and then the heavens opened. Nearly everyone dived back into the pits, apart from me and two other karts that were already on wets.
I stayed out for the whole practice session and never spun once.
I pushed and pushed, and strangely the more I pushed, the better the kart felt.
The kart was moving around all over the place, but for once it felt like it was moving around me. I was at the core of it and I was in control.
There was so much grip there once I stopped fighting it.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
Even after the marshals told me off for staying out with no wet tyres and no wet suit.
I stood in the clubhouse absolutely soaked, with a decent-sized puddle forming around my feet, and I was just happy.
I think that was the moment I realised me and grip were going to get along just fine.
