Bond. It’s an iconic surname. For me personally it means so much more and many people will empathise with my thoughts. It’s the surname of someone who I have grown up with, a character that I have experienced both through the spectacular writing of Ian Fleming (do read all the books) and through the films I have watched with my family and many special friends over the years.

Not just a hunk of metal and rubber
The Bond series introduced me from a very young age to how ethereal a car can be. It can morph from beyond a pure hunk of metal and rubber, into a symbol, a dream, a vision. The Bentley Amherst Villiers in the books, the Aston Martins and the Lotus Esprits became, for me, cars that transcended purely a motoring vehicle. For car people these early experiences brand themselves into their lives and act as motivation to one day be able to own the badge or car that their heroes drive. For me the ownership of an Aston Martin is what keeps me motivated to work every day!

I go to the cinema in Cheltenham to watch the Bond films when they are released; it’s one of those little personal institutions of mine. I love to see the youngsters with their parents and know the magic that will be created for them will be very special in their lives. Memories can be such strong things.

I was in Cirencester one afternoon with a close friend partaking in lunch at a hotel. The restaurant was quiet, just us two and a small party of three friends at the back. However, on that table of three was a certain Sir Roger Moore. I didn’t realise until he walked past our table. I said to my friend, “that’s Sir Roger Moore” and the lady from their group, a few seconds behind him, smiled and said to me “yes it is”.

My friend and I carried on with our luncheon and soon the Moore party were leaving. As Sir Roger stood nearby, he looked over to us several times as if he wanted us to say ‘hi’.

I guess he had been tipped off by the lady that I recognised him. I thought to myself, I am going to wave you over next time you look and ask you about all the cars you have driven over the years, but then I stopped myself. He looked frail and my instincts told me that something was maybe not as it seemed.

A fleeting connection of respect
He looked over again and then I just gave him a smile and a clear nod of acknowledgement. He warmly smiled to me and nodded back too. Somehow that fleeting connection of respect felt just enough for that day – no more, no less. A few months later the sad news came through that he had passed on due to cancer and I thought back to that day. Some people would have wanted photos with him, an autograph, etc. and knowing the gentleman he was he would have obliged on that afternoon. But sometimes what is unsaid and a shared acknowledgement in time makes for the strongest memories.