When I saw that my alarm had gone off at 7:30, my first thought was that I'd overslept for work, where shifts started at 7. Slowly it dawned on me that I wasn't going to work, but going to Guildford with James. My normal gloomy early-morning tiredness evaporated at the thought of this, and I bounced out of bed. James had offered to come pick me up, but I'd flatly refused, as picking me up would've just been a huge detour for him, and through chaotic morning traffic. I was going to take the tube out to Hammersmith and he'd pick me up there. It was about an hours' drive from Hammersmith, and we'd decided to leave around 9, hopefully most of the morning traffic would've cleared up by then. The tube was crazy busy at this hour as well, and it was already a quarter past nine when I emerged from the tube station and regained a phone signal. I immediately called James.
"Sorry, I'm late! Mad tube! Am outside the um.. Broadway.. something. You around?!"
"Kind of.." he replied mystically, and I span around, scanning the scenery wild-eyed. He was standing next to his car just 40 feet from me, looking amused. "Stressed much?" He said, loud enough so I could hear him over the din of traffic. I hung up the phone and stuffed it into my pocket.
"I have felt the urge to violently stab people many, many times already this morning," I grumbled as I approached him. Then I discovered the car he was standing next to and squealed excitedly. It was his white Porsche Carrera S.
"About bloody time you had a ride in one of these," he grinned. "Go on, get in."
"Do you know you've been parked at a taxi spot while waiting?" I asked as I got into the car.
"Yes. Perks of being on the telly." When I had sat down in the car I took a look around, amazed. Comfy leather bucket-seats and gorgeous, luxurious-looking interior. Exactly like I'd expected. "Ready?" James smiled, looking excited like a little schoolboy. He started up the car, and I clapped my hands excitedly.
"This is already the best day ever!" I exclaimed as James slowly pulled out into traffic. Even though it was slow moving, the sounds of the car made my heart rate quicken. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining from a bright, blue sky, which was a rarity for London. I sat on tenterhooks, sensing the cars every little movement as we weaved our way out of London and the road finally opened up onto the A3. We hadn't driven for long when James pulled into a service station. Assuming he needed to get fuel or something, I remained seated and studied the dashboard again.
"Come on, out you get."
"I.. what for?" I frowned.
"You're driving."
"What?! I .. No way." I said flatly, but he just looked at me stubbornly. "Come on, James. This is your baby, I can't..."
"Oh shut up and get out," he broke me off and without further discussion got out of the car. After a moments hesitation I scrambled out of the passenger seat. "You're mad, you know that?" I said as we passed each other to swap seats. With sweaty palms and my heart pounding in my ears I sat down in the drivers' seat, and fumbled about for the controls that would adjust the seat. When I was finished I looked up at James, who was waiting patiently.
"Ok, anything particular I should know?"
"Well, before we can go you first you have to learn our secret handshake and our codex by heart.. "James began, and I laughed. "Just drive, woman, and follow the signs for Guildford for now." Carefully, as if I was handling a bomb, I tread on the clutch, put it into gear and tried to make it move. Being used to cars as old as I was, everything about this was a lot tighter and precise. Slowly I rolled out of the service station and made my way back onto the A3100, pleased that I hadn't stalled it or done some other stupidity.
"Emily - breathe," James reminded me perceptively, and he was right - I had forgotten to. I drew a deep breath and tried to lower my shoulders.
"God, I'm terrified."
"You're doing fine, you're moving and not driving into things. Good start," James encouraged. After that James kept quiet, leaving me to get to know the car and what it was like to drive it in peace. I was wide-eyed and giddy, but also extremely anxious. A car like this was incredibly expensive, and in the beginning I was terrified of every other car on the motorway, and highly doubting my own driving skills
"I can't believe I'm driving a Porsche," I squealed excitedly after a while, when I had loosened up enough to start enjoying it.
"And you're doing it very slowly, I might add. British motorways actually have a speed limit of 70. Honestly, they call meCaptain Slow but... at this rate you'll be Major Slow by the end of the day." Feeling a little blush creep up my neck, I decided not to work towards the nickname of Major Slow and put my foot down. The car responded within milliseconds and my stomach swooped excitedly.
"You asked for it," I warned, not looking at James but keeping my eyes on the road.
"Yes. And please point that out to Jez and Hammond if it comes up, they'd be interested to know I have actually told someone to speed up for once." Despite being spurred on by James I never accelerated much past 80, not wanting to get a speeding fine on top of crashing his car.
"Sorry, I'm late! Mad tube! Am outside the um.. Broadway.. something. You around?!"
"Kind of.." he replied mystically, and I span around, scanning the scenery wild-eyed. He was standing next to his car just 40 feet from me, looking amused. "Stressed much?" He said, loud enough so I could hear him over the din of traffic. I hung up the phone and stuffed it into my pocket.
"I have felt the urge to violently stab people many, many times already this morning," I grumbled as I approached him. Then I discovered the car he was standing next to and squealed excitedly. It was his white Porsche Carrera S.
"About bloody time you had a ride in one of these," he grinned. "Go on, get in."
"Do you know you've been parked at a taxi spot while waiting?" I asked as I got into the car.
"Yes. Perks of being on the telly." When I had sat down in the car I took a look around, amazed. Comfy leather bucket-seats and gorgeous, luxurious-looking interior. Exactly like I'd expected. "Ready?" James smiled, looking excited like a little schoolboy. He started up the car, and I clapped my hands excitedly.
"This is already the best day ever!" I exclaimed as James slowly pulled out into traffic. Even though it was slow moving, the sounds of the car made my heart rate quicken. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining from a bright, blue sky, which was a rarity for London. I sat on tenterhooks, sensing the cars every little movement as we weaved our way out of London and the road finally opened up onto the A3. We hadn't driven for long when James pulled into a service station. Assuming he needed to get fuel or something, I remained seated and studied the dashboard again.
"Come on, out you get."
"I.. what for?" I frowned.
"You're driving."
"What?! I .. No way." I said flatly, but he just looked at me stubbornly. "Come on, James. This is your baby, I can't..."
"Oh shut up and get out," he broke me off and without further discussion got out of the car. After a moments hesitation I scrambled out of the passenger seat. "You're mad, you know that?" I said as we passed each other to swap seats. With sweaty palms and my heart pounding in my ears I sat down in the drivers' seat, and fumbled about for the controls that would adjust the seat. When I was finished I looked up at James, who was waiting patiently.
"Ok, anything particular I should know?"
"Well, before we can go you first you have to learn our secret handshake and our codex by heart.. "James began, and I laughed. "Just drive, woman, and follow the signs for Guildford for now." Carefully, as if I was handling a bomb, I tread on the clutch, put it into gear and tried to make it move. Being used to cars as old as I was, everything about this was a lot tighter and precise. Slowly I rolled out of the service station and made my way back onto the A3100, pleased that I hadn't stalled it or done some other stupidity.
"Emily - breathe," James reminded me perceptively, and he was right - I had forgotten to. I drew a deep breath and tried to lower my shoulders.
"God, I'm terrified."
"You're doing fine, you're moving and not driving into things. Good start," James encouraged. After that James kept quiet, leaving me to get to know the car and what it was like to drive it in peace. I was wide-eyed and giddy, but also extremely anxious. A car like this was incredibly expensive, and in the beginning I was terrified of every other car on the motorway, and highly doubting my own driving skills
"I can't believe I'm driving a Porsche," I squealed excitedly after a while, when I had loosened up enough to start enjoying it.
"And you're doing it very slowly, I might add. British motorways actually have a speed limit of 70. Honestly, they call meCaptain Slow but... at this rate you'll be Major Slow by the end of the day." Feeling a little blush creep up my neck, I decided not to work towards the nickname of Major Slow and put my foot down. The car responded within milliseconds and my stomach swooped excitedly.
"You asked for it," I warned, not looking at James but keeping my eyes on the road.
"Yes. And please point that out to Jez and Hammond if it comes up, they'd be interested to know I have actually told someone to speed up for once." Despite being spurred on by James I never accelerated much past 80, not wanting to get a speeding fine on top of crashing his car.
We arrived at the industrial park in Dunsfold half an hour later, and James pointed to where I should park. The car park held an astonishing array of cars, from some of the bonkers contraptions James, Jez or Hammond had built for a challenge, via normal everyday cars to a Pagani Zonda of some description.
"Jeremy and Richard isn't here yet, by the looks of things," James said and got out of the car. "Come on, I'll show you round." He lead me into the hangar, which they used as a studio. It was largely empty apart from a few technicians milling around with cables and lights. In the middle of it was the little "stage" with the seating arrangement I'd seen on telly hundreds of times. It still gave me a thrill to see it in real life. Other than that the studio was incredibly bare, apart from some lighting and camera equipment and a few wrecks from previous seasons. The cool wall was tucked into a corner. "Doesn't look like much, huh?"
"Nah, this is one of the things I always liked about Top Gear. Instead of being in some comfy studio with fake backgrounds... This is just what it is. Stripped down, down to earth, and you use your audience as your backdrop, to create the set around you. It's a nice break from every other TV-show out there. Why make it complicated."
"I never thought about it like that before. That we use the audience as backdrop like that. It just started as a result of getting people as close as possible so everyone could see something."
"I studied media and communications for three years. I think of these things."
"Is there anything you haven't studied?"
"Economy. I could never be arsed to." We did a quick walk around the studio and I fiddled about with the cool wall. Then we made our way back into the car park and towards the "production office" opposite. Once inside I spotted Andy, talking eagerly on the phone. A guy about my own age came bounding up to us, smiling.
"Hi, James! Want a cup of tea?"
"Yeah, sure..." James said.
"And your friend...?" the man asked, looking awkwardly at me. Obviously, James bringing female friends along wasn't an everyday occurrence.
"Oh, Emily, this is Alex, production assistant and way too perky in the morning. Alex, this is Emily, we met in Syria, she patched me back up when I banged my head a bit."
"No way! I've heard about you! Nice to meet you!" He smiled widely as he shook my hand eagerly. "So, want a cup of tea too?"
"Nice to meet you too. Yes please, tea would be lovely," I blushed and Alex disappeared. Andy just finished his phone call and he approached us, looking intently at me.
"Is that...? James, is this the nurse from Syria?" He looked at James, flabbergasted, and then looked at me. "Emily, was it?"
"Yeah," I nodded and reached out a hand, smiling. Andy grabbed it and even pulled me in for a quick hug.
"I can't believe it! Hello!" He smiled sincerely. "So nice to see you again! Listen, I cannot thank you enough for helping us out in Syria, dunno what would've happened to James or where we would've stayed if it wasn't for you."
"Oh, I'm just glad I was able to help," I smiled. "I'm sure James would've been just fine even if I wasn't there." Alex returned with mugs of tea that we accepted gratefully.
"Listen, I need a word," James said, grabbing Andy's arm and leading him away out of earshot. I trailed behind, wondering vaguely what they were whispering about. They both returned seeming secretive, but trying to hide it.
"Come on," James said, gesturing to the door. "I need a fag." We sat down on the stairs of the production office, and James lit one up. He looked out onto the car park, and then out onto the track, partly visible in the distance.
"Wow, what a day," I sighed happily, and fished a pair of sunglasses out of my bag. The skies were blue and completely void of clouds, and the sun was actually warming quite well, being this late in September. "Probably the last day of warm sunshine for about nine months." Silence fell, and I quietly enjoyed my cup of tea and the warm rays of sunshine, and James' company. James broke the silence.
"You said you knew how to do a Scandinavian flick."
"Huh, what?" I had been lost in my own thoughts, and his voice brought me back to reality. "Yeah, I d-- well, I did, in my old rear-wheel driven BMW, yeah." I admitted.
"I bet you can't do one in my Porsche," he said with an evil smirk.
"And I am not going to try!" I said flatly.
"Oh come on!" He shouted. "This is a closed-off track! You can't hit anything apart from patches of grass! You've never driven on a track, have you?"
"Um.. no. Just.. forest roads with far too many trees. And a frozen lake, once."
"Well, next to a frozen lake, this is the safest place to let loose and go bonkers."
"James, no. I might have tried, if I was completely alone and no one in the world could see me. With a car I wasn't terrified of breaking."
"We have people out here all the time who doesn't have the first clue about driving a car around a track. And most of them wouldn't even know what a Scandinavian flick was, let alone know how to do one. Come on, let's do a few laps. I won't time you, I'll just... point you in the right direction.
"....you?" I smirked, looked at him sideways.
"Contrary to popular opinion I do know my way around this track," he argued and had a last drag of his fag before flicking it away across the tarmac. Disliking the idea of being ordered by James to speed up again I stood up resolutely and shot him a determined stare.
"Fine. Let's go." James smiled and got up, then stuck his head inside the production office to tell Andy he was taking me out to the track.
"Jeremy and Richard isn't here yet, by the looks of things," James said and got out of the car. "Come on, I'll show you round." He lead me into the hangar, which they used as a studio. It was largely empty apart from a few technicians milling around with cables and lights. In the middle of it was the little "stage" with the seating arrangement I'd seen on telly hundreds of times. It still gave me a thrill to see it in real life. Other than that the studio was incredibly bare, apart from some lighting and camera equipment and a few wrecks from previous seasons. The cool wall was tucked into a corner. "Doesn't look like much, huh?"
"Nah, this is one of the things I always liked about Top Gear. Instead of being in some comfy studio with fake backgrounds... This is just what it is. Stripped down, down to earth, and you use your audience as your backdrop, to create the set around you. It's a nice break from every other TV-show out there. Why make it complicated."
"I never thought about it like that before. That we use the audience as backdrop like that. It just started as a result of getting people as close as possible so everyone could see something."
"I studied media and communications for three years. I think of these things."
"Is there anything you haven't studied?"
"Economy. I could never be arsed to." We did a quick walk around the studio and I fiddled about with the cool wall. Then we made our way back into the car park and towards the "production office" opposite. Once inside I spotted Andy, talking eagerly on the phone. A guy about my own age came bounding up to us, smiling.
"Hi, James! Want a cup of tea?"
"Yeah, sure..." James said.
"And your friend...?" the man asked, looking awkwardly at me. Obviously, James bringing female friends along wasn't an everyday occurrence.
"Oh, Emily, this is Alex, production assistant and way too perky in the morning. Alex, this is Emily, we met in Syria, she patched me back up when I banged my head a bit."
"No way! I've heard about you! Nice to meet you!" He smiled widely as he shook my hand eagerly. "So, want a cup of tea too?"
"Nice to meet you too. Yes please, tea would be lovely," I blushed and Alex disappeared. Andy just finished his phone call and he approached us, looking intently at me.
"Is that...? James, is this the nurse from Syria?" He looked at James, flabbergasted, and then looked at me. "Emily, was it?"
"Yeah," I nodded and reached out a hand, smiling. Andy grabbed it and even pulled me in for a quick hug.
"I can't believe it! Hello!" He smiled sincerely. "So nice to see you again! Listen, I cannot thank you enough for helping us out in Syria, dunno what would've happened to James or where we would've stayed if it wasn't for you."
"Oh, I'm just glad I was able to help," I smiled. "I'm sure James would've been just fine even if I wasn't there." Alex returned with mugs of tea that we accepted gratefully.
"Listen, I need a word," James said, grabbing Andy's arm and leading him away out of earshot. I trailed behind, wondering vaguely what they were whispering about. They both returned seeming secretive, but trying to hide it.
"Come on," James said, gesturing to the door. "I need a fag." We sat down on the stairs of the production office, and James lit one up. He looked out onto the car park, and then out onto the track, partly visible in the distance.
"Wow, what a day," I sighed happily, and fished a pair of sunglasses out of my bag. The skies were blue and completely void of clouds, and the sun was actually warming quite well, being this late in September. "Probably the last day of warm sunshine for about nine months." Silence fell, and I quietly enjoyed my cup of tea and the warm rays of sunshine, and James' company. James broke the silence.
"You said you knew how to do a Scandinavian flick."
"Huh, what?" I had been lost in my own thoughts, and his voice brought me back to reality. "Yeah, I d-- well, I did, in my old rear-wheel driven BMW, yeah." I admitted.
"I bet you can't do one in my Porsche," he said with an evil smirk.
"And I am not going to try!" I said flatly.
"Oh come on!" He shouted. "This is a closed-off track! You can't hit anything apart from patches of grass! You've never driven on a track, have you?"
"Um.. no. Just.. forest roads with far too many trees. And a frozen lake, once."
"Well, next to a frozen lake, this is the safest place to let loose and go bonkers."
"James, no. I might have tried, if I was completely alone and no one in the world could see me. With a car I wasn't terrified of breaking."
"We have people out here all the time who doesn't have the first clue about driving a car around a track. And most of them wouldn't even know what a Scandinavian flick was, let alone know how to do one. Come on, let's do a few laps. I won't time you, I'll just... point you in the right direction.
"....you?" I smirked, looked at him sideways.
"Contrary to popular opinion I do know my way around this track," he argued and had a last drag of his fag before flicking it away across the tarmac. Disliking the idea of being ordered by James to speed up again I stood up resolutely and shot him a determined stare.
"Fine. Let's go." James smiled and got up, then stuck his head inside the production office to tell Andy he was taking me out to the track.
"I reckon there are some knobs and dials in this car that can be set to "sport"? " I smirked as I had buckled in.
"Hey, that's a thought, actually," James agreed and started fiddling about with various settings. "There. Go." The first couple of rounds James just guided me through the track, and I drove it slowly, just trying to imagine where the racing lines would be. Brake as late as possible, turn into a corner, kiss the apex, let it run wide. Flat down through there. Keep inside the lines. I'd heard it all before, having watched an innumerable amount of celebrities trying to drive their best in some cheap Kia. But this was different. At least I had driven the car for half an hour before going out on the track. But it had changed now, it was more responsive on the accelerator, revving up faster, everything about it was just faster, angrier. And I absolutely loved it to death. By round four James shut up, realising his constant jabbering wasn't helping me focus at all. Steadily I got braver, starting to feel somewhat in control, and like I could test its limits. Two laps later I proved I was in control by managing my first proper Scandinavian flick, accelerating through it and correcting out of it. I was so thrilled and pleased with myself I squealed and laughed loudly, speeding up even more, going for the next powerslide, and then a counter slide. I had forgotten all about James being with me, and pushed the limits even more. But after barely having managed to save a slide that had been dangerously close to wobbling out of control, I slowed down, and inhaled deeply. "Iiii'm going to quit while I'm ahead now," I panted, remembering I had a passenger. "Before we both go up in a big, fire-y ball of smoke."
"I would die a very, very excited man if we did," James said weakly as I manoeuvred my way out of the track and towards car park. "Oh look, Laurel and Hardy has arrived," he sighed. Jeremy and Richard had been leaning against a fence, tea in hand, watching me driving. In the rear-view mirror I could see them shuffle towards us. James was out of the car first.
"See, I told you James wasn't driving," I heard Jeremy say, obviously trying to settle an argument. "James doesn't drive like that."
"Okay granted, but who the hell would he actually allow to drive his car? Must be the Stig," Richard maintained. I unbuckled my belt with shaky hands and got out of the car, feeling wobbly and dizzy from the adrenaline rush.
"Looks more like the Stig's girlfriend." Jeremy retorted dryly, looking at me without recognizing me. Richard obviously did, and smiled widely.
"Oh my god, it's the nurse! Er... Emily, was it?" His hand shot out and he shook mine enthusiastically. Privately I was impressed he remembered, and not at all surprised that Jeremy didn't. Jeremy still seemed confused, and looked to Richard for an explanation.
"You know! In Syria! When James got a knock on the head...? The nurse in the hospital!" Realisation dawned slowly on Jeremy's face, and he exclaimed with surprise.
"Emily! Of course! I know now. I'm sorry, I'm terrible with ... faces and such," he apologised, also shaking my hand.
"Early onset Alzheimers can present itself in the early fifties, can't it, Emily?" Richard threw me a sideways glance of mirth, and then looked at Jeremy.
"So I've heard," I grinned.
"What on earth did you say or do to persuade him to let you out on the track in his car?" Richard inquired. James opened his mouth, relieving me of the obligation to answer.
"Seriously, she's never driven anything more exciting than a bloody Jaguar XJ6 from the mid-seventies. And never driven on a track. I can't just stand idly by and not try ti rectify that kind of injustice."
"I know. It's horrible," I said aggrieved, hanging my head in shame and sorrow. "How did I do, though?" I asked, biting my lip nervously, looking at James and then to the other two.
"Quite brilliantly from where I was standing," Richard said supportively. "If that was your first time on a track I'm impressed."
"She grew up driving on the snowy forest roads of Norway. In a rear wheel drive," James pointed out. "I guess it's the same for the Norwegians as for the Fins, might just be in their blood. "
"How did you get in touch with her again, James?" Richard asked, evidently unable to stifle his curiosity any longer. Innocently he lifted up his cup of tea, but I picked up on the teasing look he shot James over the cup.
"Um.. Back in Syria she told me she was moving to London eventually to go to school and work a bit, so..," James began, but trailed off, uncertain how to continue.
"So we swapped numbers. You know, in case he should hit his head again trying to help one of you guys out. Or if I got lost in a new city. " I supplied. James looked at me gratefully.
"So you live in London now?" Richard asked.
"Yeah, I have for about a.. what? A month now?" I looked at James for confirmation.
"Yeah, a month sounds about right. Listen, excuse me for a minute, I'll be right back," James said and walked off, disappearing around the hangar. Richard and Jeremy asked me questions about where I worked, what school I was going to, if I liked London. Polite small talk as it was, they seemed somewhat interested in the conversation.
"Ohohooo, I think you're in for a surprise," Jeremy suddenly grinned, looking at something behind me. "If you're into Astons, that is." I could hear the noise from an oncoming car behind me at the same times as Jeremy had spoken. I spun around, nearly breaking my neck in my hurry to see. There it was, the love of my life, rapidly approaching me. A dark grey DB9 was gliding towards me, engine purring loudly. For a moment I lost it completely and had a wild fangirl moment, jumping up and down and clapping my hands excitedly. James clambered out of it, looking slightly proud of himself.
"If she's getting a driving education from me, I'm going to do it properly," he exclaimed when he stopped the car and got out of it.
"I don't think she can hear you," Richard observed.
"Oh god, you sexy thing... " I breathed, completely transfixed by the car. I walked slowly around it, running my fingertips lightly over the bodywork, taking in every detail. I came to a halt next to James, who was standing behind the open car door. For once I was speechless, all I could manage was to send him the most grateful look could manage, smiling so widely my face hurt.
"Go on, get in," James nodded in the direction of the car. When I made to walk around the car to the passenger side he tugged at my jacket and pointed. "No no. In here."
"Really?" I said in disbelief. "... can I really?" James just nodded and stepped out of the way, handing me what looked like a little chrome brick on a keychain. "... is this the key?"
"Kind of. You slot it into the little... thing on the dashboard that says "ignition start", and you can start it," Richard explained helpfully, as Jeremy guffawed at my ignorance. Reverentially I sank down into the leather seat, just taking in the interior. I felt like a peasant who had stomped into a Gucci boutique in her mucky wellies - completely and utterly out of place.
"Go on, start it!" James urged, standing on the other side of the car, passenger door opened. Nervously I fiddled about with the
starter-thing, and it slot into place.
"Just press it?" My voice was panic-stricken from excitement.
"Yes!" All three intoned. With a shaky finger I pressed the button, and the sound of a 500 break horse power Aston Martin-engine roaring into life filled my ears.
"Oh gooood, I am going to have a crisis!" I moaned loudly, fondling the steering wheel and leaning my head back just to take in the amazing sound. I was fully aware of how this looked and sounded to the other three, but I hadn't been able to hold back this display of passion.
"You know, if you don't fancy another go on the track with Captain Slow here, I'm willing to go with you," Jeremy said, trying to sound generous but instead sounding desperate.
"Or, if you don't want an amoeba shouting "POWEEER" at you for the entire time, I'm happy to come with you, too!" Richard added, nudging Jeremy out of the way.
"Hm..." I said, pretending to think it over. "You know... Sometimes, slow isn't necessarily a bad thing," I winked. James, realising he'd won, got into the passenger seat. "Sorry, boys," I waved at them, looking apologetic, and closed my own door. Again I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my nerves and excitement.
"So. First time with a flappy-paddled gearbox. Right to change up, left to change down?" I inquired.
"Yep. No clutch here, just foot on brake, tap the right paddle once for first gear and tread on the accelerator. Gently," he added as an afterthought.
"Oh, no need to tell me," I mumbled. Even more wary than with the Porsche I trod on the brake and pulled the right paddle towards me, released the brake and the car started rolling slowly forwards. Light as a feather I touched the accelerator.
"I am driving an Aston Martin!" I shouted, hands shaking with nerves.
"Good, good," James said calmly. "Second gear now."
"Just to make sure, how many gears?"
"Six."
"Thanks. I knew that," I scoffed. "Oh god, this flappy paddles are going to take some getting used to."
"Take your time, you get into it quickly. Just drive around the track and have fun. Not expecting any Scandinavian flicks this time."
"You're hoping I won't do any, more like," I smirked.
"A bit," he conceded. Most of that first ride in an Aston would always be a blur to me, for the rest of my life. I would never have guessed that driving a car, which from an objective point of view was just bits of metal and plastic and carbon fibre you could move about with, could be such an emotional experience. Getting used to the flappy paddles was the worst bit, I had driven a stick shift all my life, and figuring out how to gear properly while remaining some speed took a while, and I was impatient. I wanted to go fast. Finally I started to get the hang of it, and after a bad attempts I managed to get the back end to kick out properly into a long slide.
"Weeeee poweeeeer!" I squealed excitedly.
"You are turning into Jeremy. That is our cue to get off the track. Before we all die horribly," James said sternly. I couldn't really complain, we'd been out on the track for half an hour already, and all this intense focusing on driving was starting to take its toll.
"All right," I laughed and decelerated, turning off the track and headed back to the car park. Jeremy, Richard and even Andy made their way towards us, and Richard tore the driver door open.
"So? Whaddayathink?" He smiled, demonstrating his amazing ability to act like an over-excited toddler. I didn't respond, I just sat there for a minute, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
"What have you done to her?" Richard asked in a mock angry tone, looking across the car roof to James who had just gotten out.
"Nothing! It was the car! I think she's had at least two um... episodes..." James mumbled. Unable to keep a straight face I broke out laughing and flopped out of the car, using the car door and Richard as support as I tried to regain balance on wobbly jelly-legs.
"Guys... I apologise but I think I might need a post-coital cigarette after that experience." An awkward silence fell as four grown men went slightly red and stared at the tarmac, shuffling their feet. James rounded the car and came to a halt next to me.
"I take it you had fun then?"
"Oh god, thank you, thank you, thank you," I rambled, and completely unable to stop myself I threw myself at him, wrapping my arm around his neck and hugged him tightly. Thankfully he caught me and closed his arms around me and hugged me back.
"Hey, you're welcome," he stutteredd, sounding surprised. To my horror I realised that I was actually sobbing.
"Is she crying?" Jeremy asked, horrified.
"I think so," James replied, still holding me.
"See! That's the proper reaction to have when you've driven your dream car!" Richard exclaimed.
"God, I'm sorry," I said as I let go of James and hastily wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I knew I was blushing and averted my eyes, not wanting to meet the gaze of any of them.
"It's all right, we've all had a good cry after an emotional driving experience," Richard said comfortingly and put an arm around my shoulder, patting my upper arm.
"Psh, speak for yourself," Jeremy grumbled.
"Twenty-four hour endurance race in that BM--" James began.
"Yes all right! Can we move on and read through this script now? I have a television show to make," he waved, and I gave a sound between a sob and a laugh. Richard let me go and they turned in the direction of the production office. James lingered for a second, looking at me intently as if to make sure I was all right, and that he hadn't missed any reasons for my sudden outburst of emotions.
"Thank you," I mouthed at him, taking hold of his hand briefly and giving it a squeeze, then smiled at him.
"My pleasure," he said quietly, so the others couldn't hear him also smiling. He squeezed my hand back and I let go. He nodded towards the production office. "Come on."
"Hey, that's a thought, actually," James agreed and started fiddling about with various settings. "There. Go." The first couple of rounds James just guided me through the track, and I drove it slowly, just trying to imagine where the racing lines would be. Brake as late as possible, turn into a corner, kiss the apex, let it run wide. Flat down through there. Keep inside the lines. I'd heard it all before, having watched an innumerable amount of celebrities trying to drive their best in some cheap Kia. But this was different. At least I had driven the car for half an hour before going out on the track. But it had changed now, it was more responsive on the accelerator, revving up faster, everything about it was just faster, angrier. And I absolutely loved it to death. By round four James shut up, realising his constant jabbering wasn't helping me focus at all. Steadily I got braver, starting to feel somewhat in control, and like I could test its limits. Two laps later I proved I was in control by managing my first proper Scandinavian flick, accelerating through it and correcting out of it. I was so thrilled and pleased with myself I squealed and laughed loudly, speeding up even more, going for the next powerslide, and then a counter slide. I had forgotten all about James being with me, and pushed the limits even more. But after barely having managed to save a slide that had been dangerously close to wobbling out of control, I slowed down, and inhaled deeply. "Iiii'm going to quit while I'm ahead now," I panted, remembering I had a passenger. "Before we both go up in a big, fire-y ball of smoke."
"I would die a very, very excited man if we did," James said weakly as I manoeuvred my way out of the track and towards car park. "Oh look, Laurel and Hardy has arrived," he sighed. Jeremy and Richard had been leaning against a fence, tea in hand, watching me driving. In the rear-view mirror I could see them shuffle towards us. James was out of the car first.
"See, I told you James wasn't driving," I heard Jeremy say, obviously trying to settle an argument. "James doesn't drive like that."
"Okay granted, but who the hell would he actually allow to drive his car? Must be the Stig," Richard maintained. I unbuckled my belt with shaky hands and got out of the car, feeling wobbly and dizzy from the adrenaline rush.
"Looks more like the Stig's girlfriend." Jeremy retorted dryly, looking at me without recognizing me. Richard obviously did, and smiled widely.
"Oh my god, it's the nurse! Er... Emily, was it?" His hand shot out and he shook mine enthusiastically. Privately I was impressed he remembered, and not at all surprised that Jeremy didn't. Jeremy still seemed confused, and looked to Richard for an explanation.
"You know! In Syria! When James got a knock on the head...? The nurse in the hospital!" Realisation dawned slowly on Jeremy's face, and he exclaimed with surprise.
"Emily! Of course! I know now. I'm sorry, I'm terrible with ... faces and such," he apologised, also shaking my hand.
"Early onset Alzheimers can present itself in the early fifties, can't it, Emily?" Richard threw me a sideways glance of mirth, and then looked at Jeremy.
"So I've heard," I grinned.
"What on earth did you say or do to persuade him to let you out on the track in his car?" Richard inquired. James opened his mouth, relieving me of the obligation to answer.
"Seriously, she's never driven anything more exciting than a bloody Jaguar XJ6 from the mid-seventies. And never driven on a track. I can't just stand idly by and not try ti rectify that kind of injustice."
"I know. It's horrible," I said aggrieved, hanging my head in shame and sorrow. "How did I do, though?" I asked, biting my lip nervously, looking at James and then to the other two.
"Quite brilliantly from where I was standing," Richard said supportively. "If that was your first time on a track I'm impressed."
"She grew up driving on the snowy forest roads of Norway. In a rear wheel drive," James pointed out. "I guess it's the same for the Norwegians as for the Fins, might just be in their blood. "
"How did you get in touch with her again, James?" Richard asked, evidently unable to stifle his curiosity any longer. Innocently he lifted up his cup of tea, but I picked up on the teasing look he shot James over the cup.
"Um.. Back in Syria she told me she was moving to London eventually to go to school and work a bit, so..," James began, but trailed off, uncertain how to continue.
"So we swapped numbers. You know, in case he should hit his head again trying to help one of you guys out. Or if I got lost in a new city. " I supplied. James looked at me gratefully.
"So you live in London now?" Richard asked.
"Yeah, I have for about a.. what? A month now?" I looked at James for confirmation.
"Yeah, a month sounds about right. Listen, excuse me for a minute, I'll be right back," James said and walked off, disappearing around the hangar. Richard and Jeremy asked me questions about where I worked, what school I was going to, if I liked London. Polite small talk as it was, they seemed somewhat interested in the conversation.
"Ohohooo, I think you're in for a surprise," Jeremy suddenly grinned, looking at something behind me. "If you're into Astons, that is." I could hear the noise from an oncoming car behind me at the same times as Jeremy had spoken. I spun around, nearly breaking my neck in my hurry to see. There it was, the love of my life, rapidly approaching me. A dark grey DB9 was gliding towards me, engine purring loudly. For a moment I lost it completely and had a wild fangirl moment, jumping up and down and clapping my hands excitedly. James clambered out of it, looking slightly proud of himself.
"If she's getting a driving education from me, I'm going to do it properly," he exclaimed when he stopped the car and got out of it.
"I don't think she can hear you," Richard observed.
"Oh god, you sexy thing... " I breathed, completely transfixed by the car. I walked slowly around it, running my fingertips lightly over the bodywork, taking in every detail. I came to a halt next to James, who was standing behind the open car door. For once I was speechless, all I could manage was to send him the most grateful look could manage, smiling so widely my face hurt.
"Go on, get in," James nodded in the direction of the car. When I made to walk around the car to the passenger side he tugged at my jacket and pointed. "No no. In here."
"Really?" I said in disbelief. "... can I really?" James just nodded and stepped out of the way, handing me what looked like a little chrome brick on a keychain. "... is this the key?"
"Kind of. You slot it into the little... thing on the dashboard that says "ignition start", and you can start it," Richard explained helpfully, as Jeremy guffawed at my ignorance. Reverentially I sank down into the leather seat, just taking in the interior. I felt like a peasant who had stomped into a Gucci boutique in her mucky wellies - completely and utterly out of place.
"Go on, start it!" James urged, standing on the other side of the car, passenger door opened. Nervously I fiddled about with the
starter-thing, and it slot into place.
"Just press it?" My voice was panic-stricken from excitement.
"Yes!" All three intoned. With a shaky finger I pressed the button, and the sound of a 500 break horse power Aston Martin-engine roaring into life filled my ears.
"Oh gooood, I am going to have a crisis!" I moaned loudly, fondling the steering wheel and leaning my head back just to take in the amazing sound. I was fully aware of how this looked and sounded to the other three, but I hadn't been able to hold back this display of passion.
"You know, if you don't fancy another go on the track with Captain Slow here, I'm willing to go with you," Jeremy said, trying to sound generous but instead sounding desperate.
"Or, if you don't want an amoeba shouting "POWEEER" at you for the entire time, I'm happy to come with you, too!" Richard added, nudging Jeremy out of the way.
"Hm..." I said, pretending to think it over. "You know... Sometimes, slow isn't necessarily a bad thing," I winked. James, realising he'd won, got into the passenger seat. "Sorry, boys," I waved at them, looking apologetic, and closed my own door. Again I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my nerves and excitement.
"So. First time with a flappy-paddled gearbox. Right to change up, left to change down?" I inquired.
"Yep. No clutch here, just foot on brake, tap the right paddle once for first gear and tread on the accelerator. Gently," he added as an afterthought.
"Oh, no need to tell me," I mumbled. Even more wary than with the Porsche I trod on the brake and pulled the right paddle towards me, released the brake and the car started rolling slowly forwards. Light as a feather I touched the accelerator.
"I am driving an Aston Martin!" I shouted, hands shaking with nerves.
"Good, good," James said calmly. "Second gear now."
"Just to make sure, how many gears?"
"Six."
"Thanks. I knew that," I scoffed. "Oh god, this flappy paddles are going to take some getting used to."
"Take your time, you get into it quickly. Just drive around the track and have fun. Not expecting any Scandinavian flicks this time."
"You're hoping I won't do any, more like," I smirked.
"A bit," he conceded. Most of that first ride in an Aston would always be a blur to me, for the rest of my life. I would never have guessed that driving a car, which from an objective point of view was just bits of metal and plastic and carbon fibre you could move about with, could be such an emotional experience. Getting used to the flappy paddles was the worst bit, I had driven a stick shift all my life, and figuring out how to gear properly while remaining some speed took a while, and I was impatient. I wanted to go fast. Finally I started to get the hang of it, and after a bad attempts I managed to get the back end to kick out properly into a long slide.
"Weeeee poweeeeer!" I squealed excitedly.
"You are turning into Jeremy. That is our cue to get off the track. Before we all die horribly," James said sternly. I couldn't really complain, we'd been out on the track for half an hour already, and all this intense focusing on driving was starting to take its toll.
"All right," I laughed and decelerated, turning off the track and headed back to the car park. Jeremy, Richard and even Andy made their way towards us, and Richard tore the driver door open.
"So? Whaddayathink?" He smiled, demonstrating his amazing ability to act like an over-excited toddler. I didn't respond, I just sat there for a minute, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
"What have you done to her?" Richard asked in a mock angry tone, looking across the car roof to James who had just gotten out.
"Nothing! It was the car! I think she's had at least two um... episodes..." James mumbled. Unable to keep a straight face I broke out laughing and flopped out of the car, using the car door and Richard as support as I tried to regain balance on wobbly jelly-legs.
"Guys... I apologise but I think I might need a post-coital cigarette after that experience." An awkward silence fell as four grown men went slightly red and stared at the tarmac, shuffling their feet. James rounded the car and came to a halt next to me.
"I take it you had fun then?"
"Oh god, thank you, thank you, thank you," I rambled, and completely unable to stop myself I threw myself at him, wrapping my arm around his neck and hugged him tightly. Thankfully he caught me and closed his arms around me and hugged me back.
"Hey, you're welcome," he stutteredd, sounding surprised. To my horror I realised that I was actually sobbing.
"Is she crying?" Jeremy asked, horrified.
"I think so," James replied, still holding me.
"See! That's the proper reaction to have when you've driven your dream car!" Richard exclaimed.
"God, I'm sorry," I said as I let go of James and hastily wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I knew I was blushing and averted my eyes, not wanting to meet the gaze of any of them.
"It's all right, we've all had a good cry after an emotional driving experience," Richard said comfortingly and put an arm around my shoulder, patting my upper arm.
"Psh, speak for yourself," Jeremy grumbled.
"Twenty-four hour endurance race in that BM--" James began.
"Yes all right! Can we move on and read through this script now? I have a television show to make," he waved, and I gave a sound between a sob and a laugh. Richard let me go and they turned in the direction of the production office. James lingered for a second, looking at me intently as if to make sure I was all right, and that he hadn't missed any reasons for my sudden outburst of emotions.
"Thank you," I mouthed at him, taking hold of his hand briefly and giving it a squeeze, then smiled at him.
"My pleasure," he said quietly, so the others couldn't hear him also smiling. He squeezed my hand back and I let go. He nodded towards the production office. "Come on."
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