Dave Roberts started circuit racing at the age of 50, feeling like a bumbling overweight bee amid a swarm of angry hornets. Although he began to learn, haphazardly, how to become slightly more credible as a racer, even overtaking another car now and then, the pursuit of prizes was never at the top of the list of priorities. In fact, just arriving at the track with a working race car was often a cause for celebration. Dave is no Hamilton or Verstappen, a state of affairs for which he gives thanks. Some people believe winning is everything; some think of motorsport as being just some cars going round and round making a noise. In between we find this defiantly unprofessional memoir, which speaks most of all about the humour and fun of it all.
