Paul McCartney’s girlfriend was in my theater company in Bristol in 1964. We were all saying to each other in a pub: If you had a million dollars, what’s the first thing you’d buy? I said, “An Aston Martin.” A couple of weeks later, I was changing in my tiny dressing room and there was a knock on the door. I was in my underwear—we were very informal—and I said, “Come on in.” And there was Paul. He said, “Jane tells me that you like Aston Martins.” And he tossed me a set of keys and said, “Take me and Jane for a ride.” And all I could think of was, If I crash this car and kill Paul McCartney, that’s all I will be remembered for. So, it wasn’t really fun. [For more Beatles, see “Cover Story: Ringo Starr.”]