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I had the pleasure of racing against James a few times when he still pedalled tin tops. And he often, for reasons best known to him, raced under an assumed name or the name of the owner of the particular car. A practice that he continued for a number of years.
The most memorable occasion for me was a race at Oulton, where he made a demon start in a Mini a few rows behind me. His problem in those days was that he was convinced that he could win the race or his class before the first corner, and, with his starts, that was sometimes a possibility.
However, on this particular day, nobody, myself included, would allow him to bully his way through, and the result was that he took to (or was forced onto) the grass on the inside. My last sight of him was his car flying through the air with the car on it's side as it hit, roof first, a tree that happened to be firmly planted there.
I also have memories of him clambering out of the back of small vans in the paddocks of circuits, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, when we turned up to sign on early in the morning. There was no doubting his absolute passion for motor racing in those days.
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