The Hindu Business Line : Inside a racing car, a strange kind of peace…

Chennai, Nov. 23 I am a passive motorsport fan, meaning that I watch motorsport because of a few close friends, and got to know about the sport and the cars and the drivers just sitting with them. So when the opportunity to visit New Delhi for the ING-Renault F1 Roadshow came up earlier this month and the editor asked me if I’d like to go, I simply said “yes”.

So there we were, at the make-shift garage near India Gate, waiting for the firing up of the formula one car’s engine, when an ING representative sidled up to me and asked if I’d like a ride in one of the Megane Trophy cars the next day. Of course, the answer was “yes”, was he kidding?

The next day was a typical Delhi winter’s day: chill in the shade, warm in the sun, and quite hazy. So there were the usual speeches, the bands, and the displays, before we heard the first F1 car on Indian roads, piloted by Lucas Di Grassi (the team’s third driver). We were more than half a kilometre away from where the car was and we could still hear him revving up.

And then we saw them — the F1 car escorted by two Megane Trophy cars, cruising at what (to them) must have been very slow speed. After a lap, it was time, time for an astonishing display of speed in an Indian city road — the F1 car just a blip as you focused on the road and tried hard not to blink as the sound grew louder and fiercer.

Startling stunts

We then had a display of speed and manoeuvrability from the Megane Trophy and Cartoon cars before the ING-Renault F1 team’s second driver, Nelson Picquet Jr, dazzled the audience with some startling stunts.

Soon, it was time for the promised joyride in the Megane Trophy cars. One thing about these cars — the Trophy as well as the F1 — is that they are rather small. I had always imagined that these would be big because they were powerful. But no, the Trophy is a low-slung hatch-back (and the F1 car is so dainty and delicate and seemed especially vulnerable when I saw one of them without the wheels).

The six people who were offered rides were given a short briefing: tap the driver’s hand if you feel any discomfort at all and he will return immediately to the starting point. Then you get a really, really tight helmet to wear. We needed the help of one of the crew to wear it (and later remove it).

We’d been hearing about how fit and healthy these drivers had to be and it soon became clear why: you need to be fairly fit and quite trim just to get in and out of the car. The car was so low that I was afraid that when I got into it, we’d start scraping the road. The last thing you’d want is to be told politely and firmly that you are far too heavy for a vehicle that’s got more than 300 horse power (The F1 is another matter altogether: it is very likely that anyone who wears jeans larger than size 30 will get stuck just trying to get into it).

Right leg in

And getting in is a pain. The driver sits on the left (French car) and you have to get into the right side. Now, the fun thing is that you’d expect to put your left leg in first, but no, you go right leg in. This means that you’d want to put your head in, but no, the head stays out. So you are held by your bottom by one of the crew while you put your right leg in first and then your left, while keeping your head and torso out and resting your right hand down on the Rajpath.

Actually, once you try it, it makes sense: the moment you put your left leg in after you are in the position described above (however impossible it sounds and improbable it seems), your body basically plops into the seat; you have to twist your body quickly enough to avoid hitting your head on the car.

Once inside, I feel claustrophobic for a few moments: the tight helmet, the closed space, the raw cage inside the car, the helmeted figure in a body suit beside you, the revving growl of the engines, the smoke, the fumes, the smell of burnt rubber, the uncomfortably tight straps on the seat — all contribute to a moment of panic. Then I see the driver giving me a thumb-up, smiling at me through the visor, and suddenly everything’s fine.

There is a strange kind of peace. Not quiet, for it is quite noisy sitting in front of such a powerful engine; just peaceful. I could see the crew moving back from the car and showing a thumb-up to the driver and his responding sign and showing me a thumb-up and very quickly going through the motions of starting off from a panel that looked as far removed from a car’s panel as possible. The wheel looks more like a gaming wheel than a real car steering wheel. I hear some more noise, and we’re off!

It’s hard to describe the feeling. There was a slight pressure on the stomach as we took off and for the first couple of seconds I am amazed at how fast we were going. I see the audience standing along the sides of the road as a blur, and soon, too soon, we are at the end of the track and we have to make a turn. A doughnut and turn, very easy, very comfortable. In just a few seconds of screaming down the straight and we are at India Gate doing another doughnut and turn. A few more moments, and we come to a stop. I now hear the growl of the engines and the roar of the crowd.

Getting out of the car is as bad as getting in: head out first, followed by the torso, a little bit of help with the bottom by the crew and the right hand resting down on the hot road, you sort of slither out of the car. A little undignified, perhaps, but I was deliriously happy.

Wanting more

The ride must have lasted — on the whole, including getting in, the ride itself, and getting out — just a couple of minutes, and it seemed like an eternity. In the car, I had all the time in the world to think that I was more bothered by the deceleration than acceleration; to feel that the doughnut was slow and beautiful; and to notice during the screaming straight that my hands were relaxed on my thigh, and not clenched as I expected them to be. The moment we came to a stop, I wanted more, much more. Later, two worlds collide: As I was returning home from the airport around midnight, I tell the taxi driver that I am in no hurry and could he please drive slowly. He slows down from sixty to fifty.

Related pictures and videos at http://blogs.thehindubusinessline.com/audio/?p=1012