Motor racing is dangerous still. But it used to be dangerous in the extreme, when its cars and equipment paid little heed to safety, and the majority of its circuits were comprised of public roads, with all the natural and man-made hazards that entailed. Fatal accidents were common yet fell within bounds deemed acceptable by a public emerging from global conflict. It was the price paid for freedom.

And it was central to the thrill that Moss felt. As those less talented hesitated between the claustrophobic earth banks of Ulster’s Dundrod, or peered aghast over the vertiginous drops of Sicily’s Targa Florio, or stared incredulously down the long and narrow and cambered straights of Pescara – scene of a world championship grand prix, for heaven’s sake – he pressed home his superiority. Relentlessly. He did not lack for imagination – although it took some badgering/blackmailing by his father for him to don a ‘sissy’ crash helmet (of layered linen strips soaked in resin and lined with cork) – and certainly he suffered the pain of broken bones that went with the pleasure. But this was where, when and how ‘The Boy’ separated himself most obviously from the men.

And that was before it rained – surefooted Moss is a strong contender for being the all time greatest in the wet – and before mention is made of the Mille Miglia. His 1955 victory in this 1000-mile tear-up of Italy is perhaps the most famous in all of racing. Guided by Motor Sport’s stoic continental correspondent Denis Jenkinson and his ‘bog roll’ of route/pace notes, Moss averaged 99mph for more than 10 hours. He brushed a hay bale or three, launched over a fifth-gear brow of underestimated severity, and escaped from a ditch on the Radicofani Pass, but pressed on unabatedly – as brilliant 25-year-olds tend to – because at no stage did he feel sure of victory. He won by more than 30 minutes. Runner-up Fangio was delayed by fuel injection bothers, but it had been highly unlikely that he was going to beat his younger (by almost 18 years) team-mate that day; he knew it, even if Moss didn’t. The Argentinian, a hardened veteran of his continent’s crazy cross-country enduros, was beginning to parcel out his performances: he did not enjoy the Mille Miglia; he had not prepared as thoroughly as had Moss; and he was, if necessary, willing to concede to the fit-as-a-flea Englishman in two-seaters as long as their status in Formula 1 remained unchanged.

This keynote season would feature Moss also winning the RAC Tourist Trophy at Dundrod – after a high-speed blow-out had ripped off the right-rear bodywork – and the Targa Florio – after plunging over a drop that he had never paused to peer over: the 300SLR was teak-tough and he took full advantage of that. Mercedes in turn benefited to the tune of a world title.

Moss just had the long-distance knack: the balance, the concentration, the stamina. Even so, it took him days to recover from his victorious effort for Aston Martin against Ferrari in the 1958 Nürburgring 1000Kms. He left nothing on the table. When first he climbed aboard a hairy-chested sportscar after three seasons spent mainly tackling sprint races and short hillclimbs aboard spindly single-seaters, he did so at the kindly but knowing behest of a family friend, after Britain’s myriad manufacturers had politely but firmly turned him down: Boy Dies in Man’s Car was a headline that they could do without, thanks. The first day of practice for the 1950 RAC TT, a three-hour race at Dundrod, was indeed an eye-opener for Moss: Tommy Wisdom’s Jaguar XK120 was not only powerful but also relatively heavy and somewhat disinclined to stop. Come race day, however, he would be leading by the second lap and was never headed thereafter, winning on the road as well as on handicap, his driving as calm as the weather was wild. That evening, a few hours before his 21st birthday, he was invited to join the works Jaguar squad for 1951.

Thus it was a sportscar in a road race that kicked-started his professional journey, and though Moss could and would drive (pretty much) anything, (pretty much) anywhere, this combination remained a powerful motif throughout and beyond his career. For these are the victories – those achieved on truly hazardous circuits, in cars plainly unsafe by today’s much narrower bounds – that continue to mark him out as unbelievably special, were they not true.