It's 1995, on Wednesday November 22. Just after lunch.
Having battled our way out of the end of the Clocaenog East stage to see Colin McRae complete his final competitive yards not as a world champion, I implored my father to wind up his tired, filthy-dirty and RAC-weary Vauxhall Calibra one last time. We had to make it back to the finish. We simply had to. History was going to be made. And having endured four days of drama, we weren't going to miss McRae being crowned.
Colin McRae © LAT
We arrived too late to get into the Racecourse car park, so we ditched the car underneath some shifty-looking railway arches and legged it. We made it. Just.
There he was: Colin McRae, World Rally Champion, 1995. Then came the team picture, the champagne, the trophy and, finally, the donuts. It was an unforgettable memory. And last Sunday (August 9) it all came flooding back.