Posted: 21 May 2010
This brings me to the start of mine and Hammond's race between the new non-turbo S version of the Porsche Panamera, and a letter - purportedly containing a compromising picture of the two of us - from the Scilly Isles to the Orkneys.
A race has never had a less dramatic start. The researcher popped the slim manila into the local postbox and the challenge was on. Although, to be honest, nothing had actually happened yet. It was just lying there in the Victorian darkness with a vast pile of unfunny postcards, and we were just standing by the side of the road.
But the letter's arrival at Zanzibar bungalow was now an immutable. Somewhere, Postman Plod was finishing a cuppa and eyeing up his red van. The unimaginable machinery of the Royal Mail is working constantly, and by being in the box the letter was simply waiting to merge with the great eddying and shifting mass of post exploding across the land like the streamers from a party popper. It was destined to arrive.