It’s a car that has a place in our family. Stuff like that is as important as a Le Mans finish in one’s own valuing

It took me a long time to acquire a McLaren. Partly because of the breathtaking cost – treble that of an F40 – and partly timing. The bottom had rather gone out of the car market, and I think I’d spent too much money owed to the tax man on some other old motor.

Stories were already circulating of the costs involved in getting any work done by the service department, and a couple of well-publicised accidents indicated that any more serious repair work would pay for a fairly nice Brescia Bugatti.

It was always obvious, however, that this was the supercar to have. The win at Le Mans absolutely set in stone the car’s pedigree, and in my case the fact that I actually knew the guys involved added a personal touch.

I had become a little involved with the development of the car. Over a period of time I loaned a number of cars to Gordon in order for him to evaluate the Good, the Bad, and the downright Mean and Ugly. He could then help himself to the good ideas, and ditch the bad ones.

Cars included Ferrari F40, 365GTB Daytona, Aston Martin Zagato V8 and 250GTO. There may have been others but I’ve forgotten what they were.

I think I also suggested an external battery connection for owners who might use the car infrequently, and the CD juke system fitted in the luggage bay in order to have music, but no radio. For some reason Gordon was adamant that there would be no Radio One in this machine.

One day I was having lunch with Gordon. I can’t remember if this was to discuss buying a car or for some other reason, but it transpired that Ron Dennis was interested in a car that I owned. It was a McLaren M15, ex-Denny Hulme, an Indy car with a ferocious reputation that burned methanol and was turbocharged. Useless for any UK competition and far too frightening for me. I’d already been trying to get all the engine bits for it for a few years and had run out of interest,  enthusiasm, financial commitment and courage.

It also transpired that, although all the road cars had long since gone, there were a couple of GTRs still lurking at the factory. Now this really got me interested. A competition car can always send me into a bit of a dither, and I had to keep my hands under the table lest my cheque book-signing hand could be seen trembling in anticipation.

Although the GTR (competition version of the F1) lost one passenger space, the far more basic electronic package made the maintenance elements appear easier (mark that cheaper) and Ray Bellm had already converted his racer into a street-legal machine, so it was clearly an option.
At the time I don’t think the factory had done this but, with some support from Gordon, a deal was put together to supply the car ready for Sainsbury’s shopping on a Saturday morning.

The car was prepared beautifully, an exhaust system designed, and reversing lights and edge trims added along with a myriad of other odd details to gain the documentation necessary.

As with all the F1s, customers were encouraged to come in as often as they liked. Having mentioned the breathtaking audacity of the McLaren accounts department, I should credit Harold Dermot as the genius who can make even their best efforts bearable. For example, having taken Harold to task over what seemed rather pricey number plates, I received the following reply:

‘You will see that I have left in the labour charge of half-an-hour for fitting the number plates. This is so that Ben can drive to London with the wheels, tyres and other spares, and deliver them to you free of charge. Whilst he is there, he will attempt to drill and fit the number plates, and eat his sandwich, all within half-an-hour.

‘Your insight into the manufacturing techniques for the number plates is uncanny. There is no way you could know that this is preceded by mining of the precious reflective plastic ore in the foothills of the Himalayas. This is then shipped by llama across the Gobi desert to the boat in Shanghai,
a process complicated by the need to keep it refrigerated to exactly 4.2° C at all times.

‘All this means that the final charge to McLaren is £60, and our mark-up is therefore a stunning 50% – about the same as a pair of socks from M&S, but so much more fun.’

It is one of the attractions of the car that this bespoke approach kept most speculators away, as well as providing the most wonderful selection of idiosyncratic detailing. From good luck charms to cockpit trim and low-downforce modifications, it would be hard to find two identical cars. They all have their own style, and being privileged to have driven a few of them has shown me that it’s a bit like hanging out with The Magnificent Seven – a bunch of heroic but very different characters. Oh well, why not say it again: it’s exactly the same situation with the Ferrari GTO.

I still like the story of one Japanese client who called in to discuss the detail of his cars. Gordon proudly displayed the compartment suitable for taking a set of golf clubs. The customer intimated that he had two clubs; Gordon patiently explained that there was room for a full set. No, no, the client explained – I have two Golf Clubs – with substantial memberships.

To be strictly honest, we are still working on finding a handling set-up that is a decent compromise between road and track on my machine. The car had been fairly alarming on the track, with a tendency to catch out far more expert drivers than I, but to be fair on the road it’s fine, and doesn’t leave a trail of body parts at every uneven surface (at one point I went into the manufacturing business to make Ferrari F40 front splitters, as I lost so  many of them).

But most importantly, the McLaren really works. I have a particular grievance with supercar suppliers, that once they’ve spent long hours on the track they head back to base to work on the guest list and choice of canapés and Champagne for the launch party. This tends to leave a car with stunning performance and page three looks that’s actually hell to drive on the road. Terrible side sight lines, poor rear vision, and sometimes a width that challenges a London bus.

The McLaren isn’t like that. The centre steering wheel makes overtaking in the UK or on the Continent a dream. None of that awful passenger involvement – ‘Out a bit, more, no – yes – oooh, I mean no – ohhh, that was close!...’ On a long trip to Paris last year, my passenger actually dozed off, allowing me to lead a small convoy of interesting cars on a tortuous route through northern France in entirely the wrong direction.

The car is blindingly quick, and it wasn’t really until the Enzo and the Bugatti Veyron arrived in town that anything else made one think that suitable fashion wear might be a G-suit rather than a T-shirt.
And perhaps best of all, on a personal level it’s a car that has a place in our family. My daughter Holly came with me when we originally picked the car up from Woking and crawled back around the M25 – well, with the odd burst of clear air – and Mrs M has had a Ladies’ FTD at Goodwood, as well as a particularly jolly photo session where we had the McLaren team boys doing a pit stop with the car, but organising hair and make-up rather than fuel and tyres…

Oddly, it’s stuff like that which can become as important as a Le Mans finish in one’s own valuing of a car.

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Introduction

Picture gallery

The specialist: Dean Lanzante
The Le Mans authority: Brian Laban
The racer: Mark Hales
The designer: Gordon Murray
The owner: Nick Mason