Andy Priaulx: The Autobiography of the Three-time World Touring Car Champion. Andy Priaulx

failure during testing at Oulton Park. In the end, Jo moved up to Silverstone to be with me but, for a long time, I was on my own. All we had was that caravan, but at least we had sorted out everything else so we could start afresh.

      It was a good feeling not to have those debts anymore but, at the same time, I felt bad because I did not even have a drive. I was a racing driver, living in a caravan at Silverstone, but without a team or a car. And that is where Mike really helped me. I started talking to the teams all around Silverstone, looking for a chance, but I was a man with no fixed abode and not much else. No wonder everyone gave me funny looks at times.

      I am an easy-going guy, but I do have a sense of purpose. It may have seemed as if I had been driving down the road with no real destination in mind, but it did not feel like that to me. I started telling people my story and making friends. Of course, they all wanted to know who I was and what I was doing. So I told them: the drive from Guernsey, the night in the lay-by, the dreams…For a long time I was lonely and sad. I was fulfilling my dream, living at Silverstone, but I was not happy. How could I be?

      I woke up some days and could hear the sound of Formula One engines testing around Silverstone. ‘Wow! This is it. I am here and living my dream.’ Then there were other days, when it was pouring with rain, that I looked out of the window of a steamy caravan, condensation everywhere, and I asked myself: ‘What am I going to do?’

      At least I knew I was heading towards something. Until that time, Guernsey had been my limiting factor because I had been trying to mix motor racing with my life there, when the former demanded 150 per cent of my attention. It would be very different later once I was established in racing and married with a family. Then, Guernsey brought me something in terms of health, happiness and speed. But in those early days it had been a hindrance.

      I had no money, had incurred huge expenses getting from and to the island and did not have the contacts and connections that I needed. I simply did not understand at that time what it took to become a professional driver. I had raw talent with a great feeling for a car, but did not understand things like racing lines, or setting up the car for high- or low-speed, or high- or low-grip configurations. It had to be learned, all of it.

      Let us say hillclimbing was table tennis, and I was a top table tennis player. I’ve got great ball control, a great eye for the ball and I hit everything back. Then, one day, somebody gives me a tennis racquet and says: ‘Right, go and play at Wimbledon!’ Well, I am going to be in trouble. So I reply: ‘Hang on a second, I’m just hitting a small ball. This is a bigger ball. And how do you serve and all that?’ That’s what it was like. I had a good eye for the ball but no understanding of how, or what it took, to become a professional. I had to learn it all.

      It was no wonder, then, that I felt like a bit of an outsider. I was very fortunate. I had spoken a lot with Mike and he gave me some belief and hope that something might happen. Mike had battled to get to Formula Three level and was now managing Darren Manning, who himself was racing in Formula Three. I would watch him and think to myself: ‘I can be like that.’ My connection with him became stronger, but at first I think he must have just felt sorry for me.

      I had been talking to Mike before because, after my initial Formula Renault season the year before, I had been in contact with all the Formula Three teams. Maybe he saw a kindred spirit in me, another guy like him who was prepared to do anything to make things happen.

      I recall having a few designer clothes and put them in the caravan cupboard. At least in there they would stay reasonably clean. They were for my meetings with potential sponsors – when I had arranged them. Every day I got up, washed, shaved, splashed on some aftershave and started work. I hooked up my computer to the power; obviously, I had no access to e-mails and the internet but I could write letters on the computer and make telephone calls. I just got on with it. So, from nine in the morning I sat at the front of my caravan, working at a desk – which was actually a bed – writing, making notes and planning how it was going to happen.

      The glow of self-confidence I enjoyed from being crowned British Hillclimb Champion seemed to last for about five minutes. It should have been a glorious step in my career. But that is not what happened. I realised it soon enough, of course, and 1996, 1997 and 1998 were real backdown-to-earth years. I soon found out that hillclimb success meant next to nothing in circuit-racing circles – although I did receive an offer from Paul Stewart Racing to join them in 1995, but turned it down for financial reasons. I soon realised that I was an absolute nobody when it came to proper professional racing in mainland Britain. The attitude was ‘Well, so what, Priaulx? Oh, you won a few hillclimbs, racing against old farmers, eh? Who the hell do you think you are?’

      I knew I had to build myself a reputation all over again and the only way to do that would to be to win races and grab podiums every week. In that respect, 1996 had been a complete failure and had not given me any platform for the following year when I left home. In that first year, I had been trying to make a name for myself but, in truth, even getting a drive proved difficult. I did a few races, thanks to people like Mike Knight, of the Winfield Racing School at Magny-Cours in France; Tico Martini; Andrew Green, a private sponsor of mine from Jersey; and Masters International, in Formula Renault with Martello Racing – but it was tough going.

      I started at the back of the grid at Thruxton and knew there was only one way I could go from there. True enough, I did get better, but it was a very slow process. There were accidents, bills and rising costs. Then Jim Gillespie, the manager of The Mallard hotel in Guernsey, began to help and we borrowed money for the second half of the season when I switched to Startline Racing. That was when my father stepped in as well. My teammate was Malaysian driver Alex Yoong, who later raced in Formula One. He drove the new car while I had the older model. But it was not long before Jim lost interest and I was left to make the payments on my own. It was very tough but I managed to run in the Formula Renault winter series and produce my first strong finish in a championship before all the money ran out. It was then myself and Mike O’Brien had our first talks about possible Formula Three deals.

      I had dreamt about all this but I hardly did anything to prove I might be the next Nigel Mansell. I had tried to reach Formula Three, thinking I was ready for that next step. I had been handling Formula One engines in hillclimbing so I figured I should be able to drive Grand Prix cars on circuits. That was the mentality I had. Looking back, it did not matter one jot because I did not have the money to make it work. In hindsight, what I should have done was win the British Hillclimb Championship with ex-Formula One engines and then start at the very bottom of the circuit-racing ladder in Formula Ford. That way I could have progressed steadily, and built up both a reputation and those all-important sponsors.

      It is easy to see now what I should have done now but at that time it was not so clear. So, in 1997, I tried to do some B-class Formula Three races. It was not a successful venture, however. I ran out of money, found some sponsors, paid for a few races…and ended up being nowhere. It was tough. I was learning everything the hard way.

      That said, one positive thing did come out of the year. I built up some good friendships and, through one, I had a race with Speedsport at Silverstone. Mike O’Brien gave me the chance and, as luck would have it, it was held on the full Grand Prix circuit.

      It was not the British Grand Prix support event, but it was still a decent race. I qualified nowhere and looked doomed to struggle again. But fortune smiled on me when it rained heavily throughout the race. I just got that car moving and cut right through the pack.

      In fact, I think I might still hold the Speedsport Formula Three record for the most positions made up in a single race. From almost last on the grid I finished tenth. It was quite a large grid with some big players including Formula One-quality guys like Mark Webber, Enrique Bernoldi, Nicolas Minassian and Darren Manning. And I was able to catch these guys because it was wet and I was sliding the car around. I outbraked Guy Smith to take one position. At that time he was winning races and had a reputation far superior to mine, but there he was disappearing behind me.

      In the rain, it’s less about what car you are in and what you know about driving, and much more about raw instinct. And I had plenty of that. The result made me think I might just be getting somewhere again. The whole team was very pleased. Mike was happy for me