Before I ever raced it, the car already meant something. It was Mark’s project. His passion. It hadn’t just been built to run — it had been built properly, with intent. You could feel that from the start. In a way, it felt like the car had been waiting. Like it had found me at the right time.
From the early stages of the build, the race debut was always in my head. Rubbing down bodywork. Fitting suspension. Every small job, I kept thinking about that first race. What it needed to be. The first time I sat in the car, still only part built, I closed my eyes and took the start.
When it was finished, the pressure was there straight away. Fresh paint. New graphics. New engine. The car was ready. So I had to be. After the shakedown and testing, that feeling only grew. The car was good. There was a connection straight away — it felt like we could talk to each other. The bond was there. That made it more important to get it right.
Silverstone. Full grid. That’s exactly what I wanted. No half measures. No small grids. You go out against the best, or you don’t do it at all.
In qualifying, the lap didn’t come straight away. But there was no panic. No frustration. We found space, and when it came together, both the car and I showed what we could do. It wasn’t about forcing it — just getting the lap done properly. I got out of the car and just wanted to get straight back in.
The first race was everything I wanted it to be. Fast. Close. Proper racing. A podium, but more importantly, the feeling that the car had more to give. I knew it, and I wanted to find it.
The second race was different. A scrap. A proper fight. No quarter asked or given. The kind of racing where you’re four abreast into corners, out-braking each other, taking space and holding it. The pristine paint didn’t stay pristine for long. It picked up its first marks, its first signs of being used properly. And that felt right.
That’s when it stopped being just a car. It became a race car. The result mattered. A class win on debut was what I wanted — not for the result itself, but because it meant we had done it properly. The car had been prepared the right way. It had been driven the right way. It started its life as it was meant to.
The Grey Fox was away and hunting. And I had given it the debut it deserved.
