Yay – I’ve remembered one from yonks ago.
In my late teens I made my first visit to Buxton Raceway to watch the Bombers, mainly because a racer called Pete was married to my cousin Mandy. Being a bit of a nobhead I asked him if I’d be able to race if he got me a car. He explained it wasn’t that simple – he could get a car but I’d need, at least, a day licence to race. I said “Yeah, OK” and we lost contact.
Scroll on many years later and I’m living in Birmingham, in a band and going out with the keyboardist, Kath.
One night I had a dream where I was racing at Buxton. Tootling round the track, the car I’m in is gradually turning back into a road car – it’s got windscreen, dash etc. Then I hear Kath telling me to pull over and get out, which I do. I’m sitting on a grass bank watching the race, and the car I was in is in the middle of the Figure of 8 intersection – but, despite being an onlooker, I’m still in the car. It gets hit by cars coming from all four directions of the Figure of 8 and disintegrates, completely destroyed. The shock doesn’t just wake me – I actually get the sensation of landing back down on the bed.
The following day, out of the blue – and I still don’t know how he got my number – Pete phoned to say he had a car built if I fancied it. Thankfully, being so far away (and without my own transport) I had a good excuse to decline.