by Jeff Pamer
In 2007, I was 26 years old. I just started working at a restaurant in downtown Vancouver after a spectacular career failure. I had previously been the sous chef at a restaurant that was near if not at the top of the Vancouver food scene at the time. I was rising through the ranks, a lot quicker than I should have. Somewhat based on the kitchen reality show drama-style turnover that blew through the kitchen daily. After four years of service, hard work, long hours, and little to no pay, I was unceremoniously fired right before dinner service on a gloomy Tuesday night. When I think of some of the lowest points in my life, I’m hard-pressed to not reflect on the feeling of failure and humiliation I felt that night. Looking back now, going on 20 years later, I see a kid that was not given any tools to succeed. It was sink or swim without swimming lessons. I’m not blaming anyone; I should have put my hand up and let someone know I couldn’t swim before I was thrown in.
We all have these stories though, don’t we? I think it’s what we do next that defines us, not what’s in the rearview. Learn, move forward, fight, get better, and be better.
The kitchen I ended up at in 2007 had this sous chef that was undoubtedly, one of the best cooks I’d ever worked with. He gave me a lot of gifts in the short time that I worked there, but weirdly it was a moment when he took me out of the kitchen, and into the office to show me something on YouTube that was one of the most important moments of my life. He was from a town north of London and needed to show me what he described as “these three psychopaths” on this car show from back home called Top Gear.
As recently as a few weeks ago, my son Jack, would come into the TV room and ask if we could watch “Car Show”. I’ve had Top Gear on a loop in my house, watching from whatever earliest season was available for streaming through to the most recent. Once I got the final sign-off with Richard and James in front of a big prop elephant representing Jeremy, I’d go back to the start and go through it all again. It was comfort food for me I would put on after a hard day. These three guys were imperfect but charming. Ridiculous, but seemingly sincere. Funny with dry understated wit. At the core of it though, they were magic together and loved cars. Top Gear was a cornerstone of the household.
The show was completely scripted and planned while feeling light and spur-of-the-moment. This is what eventually helped inspire me to start writing about motorcycles. Clarkson famously hates them of course, but James and Richard were in my corner, as I imagined it at least. I found myself weaving metaphors and similes into my writing early on adapting what they had been teaching me during tests of the most amazing cars being produced at the time of filming. More than once I’ve quoted James’s “the fizz” feeling that special cars gave him. These guys and this show were a religion to me.
The beating heart of all of it was Jeremy though. Top Gear had been on the air in England since the 70s as what could be easily mistaken for any number of formulaic car reporting shows. It was, to be frank, a bit boring. Jeremy reinvented it with his producing partner Andy Wilman. They recruited some of the best people you have never heard of and created what would be by 2013 the most-watched show globally. That is not hyperbole. 350 million viewers worldwide spanning 250 countries. It is and was undeniably the biggest show…in the world.
Clarkson was a challenge sometimes though. As the years went on, I would have to defend my love of the show to people in my life. He and the crew would often cause waves by saying what could be described as culturally insensitive, and could more pointedly be called racist, and hurtful rhetoric. I hated it, but the mental gymnastics that I performed were firmly on the foundation of the fact that these were caricatures of human beings. That the person Jeremy was on the show was not him. He was kind of like Howard Stern: an exaggerated version of himself for shock, comedy, and conversation’s sake. I could stomach it if I believed he was in on the joke.
Earlier this week, I saw on Instagram that Jeremy had posted an apology. My stomach sank because this was not the first time he had to backpedal, but he rarely apologized for anything. I hadn’t heard anything about the article he had written, I think that the controversy around it had stayed fairly insulated in the UK, but also, I don’t follow along with much gossipy content. The article and story around it are well documented, so for more on that, feel free to go and look it up, I’ll be here when you get back.
Once I read what he had said, something shifted in me. I started to get mad. Mad at him. What he wrote was disgusting, and hurtful. It was written with such vile hate, I found it very unsettling. That’s not all I was mad at though.
I stood by you. I felt like I was in on the joke Jeremy. The joke was on me.
The buried tragedy in all of this, besides the horrible statements and hurt people, is that the absolute best version of Jeremy Clarkson is the one who is comfortable making a fool of himself. The quiet moments on Top Gear when he’s messed something up and just owns it like the flipped-over Alfa Romeo at that track day. You know this too Jeremy because it’s the entire basis of Clarkson’s Farm on Amazon. The best version of you is the one who knows nothing and tries to do something anyways. Failing publicly, and with the odd win mixed in for good measure. The worst version of you is the angry, out-of-touch, venomous, bully that unfortunately is the version that we are all set to remember with this latest failure.
I don’t know if I can watch Top Gear anymore and enjoy it in the same way. It’s the make-up of a lot more people than just Jeremy, but he’s in the center of it. It’s something that we talk a lot about these days with public figures, and I’m not looking to solve it right now. I’ll figure that out on my own. I’m not afraid to share what I decide, but I just haven’t gotten to the bottom of it yet inside myself.
I’ll end this the way I started: Learn, move forward, fight, get better, and be better. We are made up of our failures more than anything. They’re what teach us where the lines are and how to grow. Growth is key. Jeremy, you’ve managed an amazing career, one that I could only dream of, but I wouldn’t trade places with you for anything. You lack the character and courage to let go of your old self and become something new. I hope you can find a meaningful way to apologize, words coupled with actionable gestures beyond sending an email.
For someone who has made a fortune talking for a living, you should understand more than anyone, that talk is cheap.
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