I settle in to the Aston Martin at the back of the three-car caravan — it’s the best vantage point to observe what’s going on ahead. It’s good that the Audi has been idling for a while, topping up its battery, because Malcolm doesn’t give it much of a warm-up. By the time I’ve left Dovenby Hall’s driveway, the Quattro’s set-square rump has vanished.
The Audi Quattro warbled and bobbed its way almost out of sight. Matthew seems happy to set an interested pace in pursuit – and so the tone is set.
Within a few minutes, we bumble through Cockermouth town centre. Not by accident, I take it. Malcolm winds the Quattro’s electric windows down, shouting and waving hellos to several locals, who all smile when they see him and then smile again at what he’s driving. He’s clearly still something of a much-loved local rock star – despite what M-Sport’s troublesome neighbours, who objected to his building of the site’s motorsport circuit, might think.
Soon after, our route proper has begun. We head south of town, through Brackenthwaite hamlet and then out alongside the broad, imposing flank of Grasmoor and the shore of Crummock Water, as the road begins to wiggle and wind. We pause for some drive-by photos and then press on towards Buttermere village, past the lake and through Gatesgarth.
We’re here in the middle of November, and as we drive through the lakeside woods, the fallen leaves retain their vivid yellows and greens at the very tops of the foot-high piles in which they’re heaped on each side of the road. In the Aston Martin DBX S, I subconsciously hold my breath every time we meet oncoming traffic, and I’m deploying the car’s considerable reserves with due care. Honestly, Wilsons Sr and Jr, out in front, look like they’re having most of the fun, for now. At least I get the bassy V8 soundtrack.
