Iain Banks

“I blame Hunter S Thompson for everything. I’d barely got over a youthful infatuation with Catch 22 when I encountered, back in 1972, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Not only did it alter the way I thought about literature and dangerous narcotics, it also made me drive faster; every time I read it, I’d develop an almost uncontrollable urge to spread beer on my chest (facilitates the tanning process) and drive at 100mph with the top down while avoiding giant bats. My dad’s car wasn’t a convertible and I never did try the trick with the beer, but driving fast was entirely practicable; the giant bats, of course, had to be imagined. But never mind the driving, did reading the book ever affect my writing style? Hell, yes!”

“There was no great eureka moment - I’d spent 30 years reading about global warming and I decided it was time to tread a bit lighter on the planet. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was time. I’d always had a thing for fast cars and I was also learning to fly at the time [having] done about 45 hours of training to learn to fly when I made the choice. The bit I miss most is coming in to land – it’s the best and the scariest bit.”

“I’ve had my fun with the sports cars but I still want to drive fast cars. I had a couple of Porsches, a BMW M5, a Jaguar and a LandRover Defender, which I traded in for a Lexus RX 400h Hybrid.”

The Lexus was then switched out for a Toyota Yaris.
“I’ve been pleasantly surprised by my wee Yaris, I do a lot of overtaking in it.”

August 1998

The rain hammered down as the Porsche 911 roared into the sweeping bend. lain Banks flinched as the back of the powerful car twitched once then twice and started to slide. As he fought desperately to correct it, the violently pitching vehicle somersaulted two or times before smashing back into the stony ground.

For the cult Scots writer it could have been a scene straight from one of his best-selling novels - but the horrific crash which nearly cost him his life and wrote-off his wife Annie's £55,000 sports car was chillingly real.

Today as the 44-year-old author relaxes in a Leith wine bar, the only physical sign of his near-death experience is a slight stiffness in his back when he moves. lain, who is in Edinburgh to promote his latest paperback, A Song of Stone, is a self-confessed addict for fast cars and powerful motorbikes.

But none of his driving expertise could prevent the smash early last month on the A86 Dalwhinnie to Spean Bridge road as he drove towards a friend’s house in Glenfinnan.

“It was a horrific day with torrential rain and I’d asked Annie if I could borrow her car,” he recalls. “I took a corner too fast and something unsettled the back end. I thought I’d saved it twice from toppling but I didn’t and rolled the poor thing. The roof caved in and I bumped my head a couple of times as it rolled over but the car’s hard-top saved me. There were a couple of ashen-faced Australian tourists in a hire car nearby and they’d seen everything – from the car flipping on to its roof to rolling and then falling back up the right way. My first words to them as I climbed out of the car and scraped all this glass out my hair were, ‘aren’t airbags wonderful!’ They were speechless.”

He retells the story now in a remarkably matter-of-fact and amusing way.

But his first instinct, after checking his body for cuts and bruises, was to phone his wife at their Fife home to let her know he was safe. He then reported the crash to the police.

But while Annie was relieved he was still alive, the police took a more laissez-faire approach to the incident. “They asked if there was anything damaged apart from me and the car.  When I said no, they said there was no point in coming out then – uncaring swine!” he says, mock-offended.

“I called the AA and a taxi took me on to my mate’s house in Glenfinnan. I was a bit battered and bruised but I didn’t go to the hospital or my doctor. My friend watched me carefully to make sure I wasn’t concussed. I’d already told my wife about the crash and she rang up later and asked my mate if I was acting strangely or talking gibberish. And he said, ‘yeah, but not any more than usual.’ I’ve still got a slightly sore back from the crash but I’m fine.”

He admits the smash has slowed his passion for speed – revealing they’ve just bought “a very sensible BMW 528 automatic” with the insurance money from the accident. But with a soft-top Porsche 911, a 1965 Mark II Jaguar and a Honda 750VFR motorbike still in his North Queensferry garage, his love of fast cars and gadgets will never be erased.

“I quite like driving fast but I don’t like being driven fast by someone else. I like to be in control. If you can compare driving to what people like in the fairground then I hate the waltzers but I love the dodgems. That’s probably where my problems started – I think car driving should be a contact sport,” he laughs.

Many of your novels contain much drug-taking, excessive drinking and just the right amount of sex. Is this how Iain Banks lives? “You forgot about the fast driving.”