A couple of drivers asked me recently how I got started in motorsport.
It was a strange question because I don’t think I’ve ever really sat down and thought about it properly.
The truth is, I don’t remember much about wanting to become a racing driver.
I liked toy cars. I could play with them for hours.
I enjoyed watching racing on television when it was on, but I don’t remember sitting there dreaming about championships or careers.
I tried football and a few other sports, but they never really clicked with me. I went to training, but I always preferred kicking a ball around with my dad rather than being part of a big group.
I was quite shy.
I liked school, but I never wanted to be the centre of attention and generally tried to avoid the teachers noticing me if I could.
Then one year we went on holiday and watched some banger racing.
Out of all the motorsport I had seen, that is probably what I remember most from that time.
Not long afterwards, Dad told me he had booked a karting session at a place called Teamsport.
It wasn’t a big group event.
It was just me and an instructor.
I remember climbing into the kart and feeling completely on my own.
Oddly, I don’t really remember the first lap.
I remember crashing and hurting my nose.
I remember going back out again.
Most of all, I remember the feeling of being in control.
For the first time, I was making all the decisions.
If the kart went left, it was because I turned left.
If it went faster, it was because I pressed the throttle.
I slowed down far too much for corners and had no understanding of racing lines, but none of that really mattered.
The track had one corner that was almost flat out and I remember building up the confidence to take more and more speed through it.
The noise of the tyres.
The kart moving around underneath me.
The way it snapped sideways occasionally.
I loved all of it.
Even now, one thing stands out in my memory.
I could feel the kart moving from my seat right through to my fingertips on the steering wheel.
At the time I couldn’t explain it.
I just knew it felt good.
Looking back, that’s probably what I remember most.
Not being fast.
Not being competitive.
Not even wanting to race.
Just the feeling of controlling something and learning how it moved.
The funny thing is that after all these years, that part hasn’t really changed.
As soon as I got out of the kart, I wanted to get back in and do it again.
I wanted to be better.
I wanted to go faster.
I wanted to understand it.
And if I’m honest, that’s still what motivates me today.
