Jem Marsh

The hard-bitten Marcos boss was driven like few others and never knew when he was beaten. Thankfully

- Richard Heseltine

IT WASN'T SO much a question as a statement of fact. It was the summer of 2002, a period when the sun was setting on Jem Marsh's tenure at the helm of the marque he co-founded, and a brief test of the new Marcos TS250 Marcasite had proved enjoyable. On our return to the factory (a Nissen hut) in Westbury, Bradford-on-Avon, the lanky pensioner greeted our arrival with: 'I trust nothing fell off. He then scuttled off to deal with something more important. Marsh often had an adversarial relationship with the media and didn't exactly mask his distrust.

They don't make motor moguls like Marsh anymore. To be honest, they didn't make many like him way back when, either. He was defiantly self-directed and this was reflected in the cars he produced. By his own admission, Marsh was not an academic. He left school in 1946 and enlisted in the Royal Navy. Seven years later, he acquired a partially built Austin Seven 'special' and ventured trackside for the first time shortly thereafter. On returning to Civvy Street, he found gainful employment as a car salesmen, only soon to move into a different arena altogether. Marsh joined the European Motor Rodeo display team, adopting the pseudonym 'Rodeo Rod' for no other reason than it 'sounded more American.