Pete Martin: End of the road for a great friend and car lover

But, in the 60s, every boy owned a small toy replica of the car driven by Sean Connery as James Bond in Goldfinger.

I never caught the car bug, though. I even had a set of Hot Wheels, tiny zippy little cars with their own yellow track and loop-the-loops.

Nonetheless, to me, a car is still just a metal box with four round rubber things at the corners. What can I tell you? I like to listen to the radio in the car, and drive like a granny.

I did drive a real Aston Martin once. I borrowed it from my friend, cameraman and car enthusiast Richard Steel.

Generous to a fault, he loaned it to me along with some movie kit. Maybe I’m just not enough of a motor connoisseur: it felt like driving something between a tank and a bath.

Two weeks later, Richard wrote off this Aston Martin and walked away. Earlier this year, he wrote off a second Aston Martin, and didn’t. His death came as a shock to those who knew and loved him: the sudden disaster, and the terrible, predictable, pointlessness of it all.

The last time I saw Richard we were working on a music film for James Grant, of recently re-formed Scottish icons Love and Money. Richard was operating the smoke machine for a tricky tracking shot.

Finally, we got a perfect take except, as the fog cleared, you could see Richard in the frame. He was doing exactly what he shouldn’t have been doing, exactly where he shouldn’t have been doing it – with a grin. It’s how I think of him in his last moments.

This Saturday, there’s a wee movie showing and shindig at the Filmhouse in Richard’s memory, raising funds for a scholarship to the National Film School. Songsmith James Grant will also play a short live set, plucking guitar strings and heart strings, interspersed with his usual razor-wire wit.

If you’d like to come along, Google “James Grant Facebook” and see his fan page for details.