Most people don’t know, but my middle name is John. I was named after my Granddad, John Comeskey – a man I never got to meet, but who has been a quiet, steady inspiration throughout my racing journey. He passed away 11 years before I was born, yet somehow, I’ve always felt connected to him.
As a kid, I remember being fascinated by one of his karting trophies. It sat there, gleaming, a symbol of something bigger than just a podium result – it was calling to me. That trophy made me want to win my own, to chase the same thrill he once did. Racing runs deep in my family, and I’m proud to carry that passion forward.
Grandad John raced karts at the Wellington kart club, running a KT100 as a Senior Novice. My dad also raced a KT100 as a Junior. From 1993 to 1995, they raced together – father and son, side by side, just as my dad and I now share our own racing moments.
But Grandad John didn’t just love karts. He had a thing for fast cars too. He owned a modified Alfa 75, a car he took out for Manfeild Club days, and he even got behind the wheel of a Formula Atlantic and Dick Johnson’s green Mustang at Manfeild. As well as his family and work, he lived for speed, for the thrill of the track, for that feeling of being completely in the moment.
That’s why Manfeild is special to me and my dad. It’s not just a track – it’s a place where our family’s racing history comes full circle. When I’m out there, pushing the limits, I can’t help but feel like Grandad John is with me, watching from the sidelines, nodding in approval. If he were here today, I know he wouldn’t miss a single session trackside.
