In the driving seat

THERE was not a moment of hesitation when Ford, Vauxhall and British Leyland all came knocking at Peter Johnson's door after he left university.

He chose British Leyland in Birmingham. So what aspect of the troubled car giant particularly appealed to the young and ambitious Johnson? 'It was near Redditch Cricket Club,' he says. 'I just wanted to join the club - that was the most important thing for me at the time.'

Johnson, 55, a cricket fanatic from Ashton-under-Lyne, Greater Manchester, had dreamed of being a batsman for his beloved Lancashire. However, a wise old professional took Johnson aside and told him he would never make it.

Instead of starring at Old Trafford or Lord's, Johnson has had to settle for being chief executive of Inchcape, the world's biggest independent car dealership. But his career in industry didn't exactly get off to a flying start at British Leyland.

'I was young and keen to make a start in the motor world,' he says, 'but on my first day I found myself appointed as assistant to the modification clerk in purchasing.'

As the title implies, it was one of the world's most boring jobs. After completing his first job in 20 minutes, he was told it should have taken a week. 'I spent the rest of the time reading motor magazines,' he says. 'This was not what my education had prepared me for, so after two weeks I told them I was quitting. I don't think a graduate had ever offered his resignation after such a short period. It did the trick and I was offered the job as PA to the sales and marketing director.'

But Johnson spent 15 years at the company before his career took off after a meeting with the then boss, Sir Michael Edwardes, at a weekend management brain-storming session. 'I told him I wanted to be sales director because I knew what needed to be done and how to do it,' he says. 'I expected to be sacked the next week, but instead I was told to get on with the new job.'

It was not that easy. British Leyland was a byword for all that was wrong with UK industry. Union militant Derek Robinson (Red Robbo) was wreaking havoc and management threatened to close down.

But the industrial troubles never dimmed Johnson's faith in the workforce during his 18 years there. 'I never took the view that it was the fault of the workers,' Johnson says. 'It was a management problem and the Government did not help by intervening all the time.'

Johnson describes his time at the company as 'amazing'. However, he left after realising that he did not have the skills to get to the top. He had also turned 40 and decided it was time for a change. He risked his security by switching industries to join Applied Chemicals, a tiny company based in Coventry. It took just two years to turn it round.

Never one to sit still, Johnson returned to manufacturing with the Marshall Group, one of Britain's biggest privately owned companies, to head its car dealership business. Again he worked his magic, but left when he could not take the company forward to a stock market flotation.

In 1998, that ambition led him to Inchcape, an old colonial-style conglomerate with businesses ranging from selling cars to interests in tea and mattresses. The initial plan was to prepare it for flotation, but his ambitions were thwarted when chairman Lord Marshall reversed the strategy, choosing to dispose of non-motor assets.

Johnson was asked to take control of the car business. At last, he was in a position to make a real difference and ordered a shake-up in strategy with Inchcape opting to deal with only luxury cars from seven makers - Subaru, Toyota, Ferrari, Maserati, BMW, Jaguar and Rover - and to operate in just six world markets.

Last week, Inchcape revealed a jump in pre-tax profits from £54.3m to £63.7m for the six months to 30 June.

Johnson's wanderlust seems to have abated and he says he is not thinking of moving on. And he has no thoughts of retiring. 'I am still full of energy,' he says. 'My wife wants to see more of me, but she does not want me to retire. There is still so much to do.'