KEY POINTS:
This is what happened. He had the drudge job, compiling the world-leading car magazine's review yearbook.
Each critique began with a large, red, drop capital letter. His role was to put the entire supplement together, which "was extremely boring and took several months".
Time for fun. By carefully re-editing the beginnings of all the stories, he made the red letters spell out a slightly rude message.
A great wheeze. Nobody at work twigged. Within days of publication, readers did. Several wondered if they'd won a prize.
James Daniel May was called into the managing director's office and dismissed.
Looking back, was being fired by Autocar a turning point?
"Umm, well, good question," says the 45-year-old shaggy-haired hero of the highways, from the London flat he shares with his cat, Fusker.
But, yes, it possibly was.
His next job was as a columnist. That led to other work, including radio, which in turn triggered opportunities on the telly, which got him on a motoring show that rocks the globe and attracts 35 million viewers.
He's quietly amazed that anyone in New Zealand would even know about an incident from 1992. I explain - two friends, now back here, were with the mag then.
"I understand that, even after all these years no one there is allowed to speak of it, which I think is simply absurd.
"I think they [the magazine] just wanted to get rid of me and then they told everybody else never to mention it again."
Still, their loss and all that - presenting Top Gear is undoubtedly the best job in motoring TV, if not the best job full stop, he agrees, even if sometimes the action gets a little too exciting.
He was chased by angry people in America, and had a harrowing race to Oslo in inflatable powerboats.
"One of them started sinking, and the other one punctured. That was one of the low points of my whole existence," says May.
"I thought 'well, at least I'm not being sick'. And then [Richard] Hammond started throwing up. All over me."
Last year he and co-star Jeremy Clarkson were the first to reach the magnetic North Pole in a car - an extensively-modified Toyota Hilux.
Another achievement, belying that Captain Slow nickname, has been to drive the world's fastest sportscar, the $1.5 million Bugatti Veyron, at its maximum speed of 407km/h - one third the speed of sound.
So what else, aside from cars, rock his socks? Music, science, toys are favourite subjects May has made TV shows about. There's also a wine discovery series with connoisseur Oz Clarke, now screening in New Zealand.
Drinking real ale in a quiet pub or reading also - flying's another passion.
May graduated from Lancaster University with a degree in music. What first ignited his love of cars?
"My dad. When I was three years old, I remember waking up to find a beige-coloured Aston Martin DB4 he'd left on my pillow," says May.
"It was a very, exciting moment, and the first spark."
After university, he was a filing clerk at a hospital before working in a factory, assembling cardboard boxes.
He entered journalism by getting a job at a trade magazine for engineers.
Does he now feel famous? He supposes he does, but it's not too heavy a burden to bear.
"Occasionally it means you can't go and sit in a pub quietly, because people will want to come and talk to you but, in a way, it's nice that they do because it's almost part of the job, really, talking to people about cars and things."
May says he twigged to the global success of Top Gear only when he realised, about a year ago, there were few countries where he wasn't being recognised.
"It happens quite a bit now in France and Holland and Belgium but even in America nowadays, where people seem to be watching it on the internet."
And the famous hidden message? It reads thus: "So you think it's really good, yeah? You should try making the bloody thing up. It's a real pain in the arse."
Classic James May, really.
* View James May's classic Autocar prank.
- NZPA
