Driven. James Martin

       INTRODUCTION

      Most people probably don’t know about my car obsession, but it’s quite serious, and I’ve had it a long time. From my earliest memory, my life has been dedicated to the pursuit of two passions – cooking and motors. To be honest, I can’t remember which came first; the two have always gone hand in hand. As a kid, I was either helping out in the kitchens of Castle Howard, where my father was catering manager, or driving a tractor around the fields of our farm. If I wasn’t flambéing chicken livers at catering college, I was circling Golf GTis in AutoTrader and dreaming of Ferraris. And if I wasn’t working 18-hour shifts in some of the most punishing kitchens in London, I was spending what little I’d earned on some ridiculous kit car with no roof and big shiny exhaust pipes. Every job I’ve ever had has been to finance wheels of some description. I know that most people associate me with cooking, but for people who really know me, cars are probably the first thing that spring to mind. Put it this way: I’ve got a beautiful big kitchen at home, but my garages, all three of them, are more impressive. My whole life has been wrapped up with cars in some way. Knowing that, it’s easier to understand why this has been one of the most monumental years of my life. This year has seen the realisation of one of my dreams. This year I took part in the world’s ultimate road race.

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