The Man in the White Suit_ The Stig, Le Mans, The Fast Lane and Me - Ben Collins [135]
Chapter 31
Untamed: Hampshire Heist
Christmas gifts stuffed into already bursting bags, late-night shoppers scurried to and fro across the central promenade of Basing-stoke’s indoor Mall. The Top Gear team appeared like a team of master criminals in the final seconds before closing. We had until 5am – when the floor cleaners took over – to capture a two-car chase through the centre’s tight corridors. The plan was for Clarkson to give an unusual review to the new Ford Fiesta, presenting it as the perfect getaway car – with a bad guy in a black Corvette in hot pursuit.
Security gave us the all clear whilst they flushed out the tardiest customers.
‘Saddle up, big boy, bring her in.’
I pulled my baseball cap down to mask my face, climbed into the Z06 and cranked the V8. Engine growling, I edged past the line of camera phone-wielding onlookers and lined up on the marble floor to test for traction. Ahead of me lay 100 metres of glistening marble, fringed with giant potted plants. To either side a shimmering parade of shopfronts.
My shortlist for this indoor ballet came down to the BMW M3, the Vauxhall Monaro and the Corvette – all rear-wheel driven, manual with grunt. The Vette won because, surprisingly, it was the smallest.
A Corvette was on long-term loan to one of the editors of Top Gearmagazine. He nearly had an embolism when we asked to borrow it.
‘Ben, please promise me you won’t put a single mark on it,’ he pleaded. ‘Basically, it’s my car. I’ve had it for almost a year and I’ve promised GM I’ll hand it back to them in immaculate condition.’
A hostage negotiator never employs a negative inflection during a crisis situation.
‘Everything will be fine,’ I said. ‘We’re only using it for one night.’ I omitted to mention the part where the Corvette was supposed to crash through a concession stall.
Producer Pat Doyle stared at the rows of plate-glass windows, mentally calculating the cost of each pane. I didn’t think to mention the floor; it would have been like an ice skater asking if it was all right to scratch the rink.
‘Right, Stiggy.’
‘Pat!’ I swivelled a couple of eyeballs in the direction of the nearby phalanx of locals.
‘Oops …’ He shot me a sheepish grin as he tapped the Corvette’s lid. ‘Don’t forget, we’ve got a spare Fiesta, but only one of these lads …’
I set fire to the rear wheels by releasing the clutch at 6,000rpm, windows down to revel in the sound of freedom. The Vette barely moved. The marble was like ice.
‘Traction’s off on that bad boy, then?’ Andy Harris, our rescue co-ordinator, could barely contain his excitement. He was a big blond lad with rosy cheeks. You wouldn’t argue with him if he was slicing you out of a burning wreck.
‘This one’s set up as the Lord intended – no stability.’
I backed up to the start point in front of Debenhams and read the shopping list in my right hand:
Approach BHS via escalator, 5 paces wide, break right at circle plinth into store foyer, hbrake, power j-turn round, kill mannequin & exit
Corvette wide slide after fwd handbrake turn past Jewellers, Onto 6 pace width track, Cars split here, concrete plinth into 2 track straight to M&S (60ft)
Head on and hbrake turn, near miss Ford Fiesta/miss window, big overhead wide shot slide uphill to tree roundabout + donut at Costa, smash tables, exit street Pizza Hut, slide and stop.
Jeremy was working his magic with the Fiesta a little later in the night, but for the initial line-ups my friend and multiple rally champion Mark Higgins was in the hot seat. His car control was phenomenal but he always licked his lips when he was nervous. He pulled up alongside