The Adventures of JStar88 on The Blue Marble

Racing at Silverstone

I had one of the COOLEST days EVER last week. And yeah, I know I’m articulate enough to express that coolness in a more colourful, sophisticated way, but that would dilute the animated adolescent exclamatory effect of just how COOL it really was.

It was COOL in the way that days are cool for kids who get to experience new thrills or adventures for the first time. And for that day I felt like a kid on a high-powered adventure – all pumped-up with adrenaline and excitement, with the edges of my supercharged smile threatening to meet in a way that theoretically almost resulted in the top of my shiny head falling off!

Haven’t YOU ever wondered what would happen if you smiled so big that the edges met?

And while this particular adventure was never one I consciously desired, I am tremendously pleased to have had the opportunity… to drive a Lotus Elise around the main track at Silverstone with the pedal to the metal and the tires literally smoking!

Being behind the wheel of a performance racing car going 125 MPH on a formula one track was nothing short of breathtaking. I’m not even embarrassed to say I was giggling like an eight-year-old boy high on sugar while I was driving, saying things like “whoah!” and “wow!” and “yeah!” and, of course “COOOOOL!” as I whipped around the track in the middle of fifth gear (the instructor wouldn’t let me use sixth and, frankly, I don’t blame him).

I’ve never been a car guy. I mean, sure I can appreciate a nice car and understand the mechanics that make them run, but I don’t roll out car stats, notice feature changes over the years or ever look forward to new models. I bitch about the traffic and noise from Toronto’s Molson Indy every summer, and give people bewildered eye-rolling looks when they tell me they’re NASCAR, F1 or Rally car racing fans. I mean puh-lease, can’t they find something better to waste their adoration, time and money on?

Similarly, the car guys just don’t get me – particularly in Europe. They ask why I’ve never been to the big Toronto race, or travelled to the holy Mecca that is Montreal's Canadian Grand Prix every June. I tell them I just don’t care and they consider that effeminate or just another odd Canadianism.

I’ve passenged in some automotive beauties, and even coveted my posh former neighbours’ cars, but the only car I’ve ever really wanted has been a midnight blue BMW Z3 roadster – ever since I saw one during a bicycle ride through San Francisco in 1997 and promised myself that one day, when I had some money, I would treat myself to that sweet, sweet ride.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve enjoyed not having a car in Stockholm. For the most part, I walk everywhere I go and the subway or train systems are phenomenal whenever I need them. Cabs and car rentals are always options, and easily found.

I like walking to work and I like not wasting time in traffic, not breathing thick air full of chemicals and trace heavy metals, and not sweating in a dirty sea of single-commuter cars while thinking of the global implications of China’s burgeoning auto industry. Also, the amount of money I now save by not having to pay for parking tickets, speeding tickets, licenses, maintenance, insurance and gasoline is far less that what I will spend for the monthly excursions I have planned around Europe (look for an update with pics from Copenhagen after this weekend’s trip).

Other than during a very brief 30-hour stop-over in Toronto in September, I haven’t driven at all since June. And now that I no longer own a car at all – some kid named Mike bought my 1996 Mazda MX3 Precidia – the opportunities to drive are going to be few and far between.

Driving in England, where the wheel is on the wrong side of the car, where the gearbox is on the wrong side of the driver, and where you’re supposed to drive on the wrong side of the road (and need to remember that under pressure when a truck is barrelling straight at you on a single-lane dirt road in Northern Scotland and a screaming blue-eyed lass is backseat driving from where the driver is supposed to be sitting!) is not where I anticipated finding one of those opportunities.

I was initially ambivalent about this event. I even declined the invite when first offered. I had no idea... What is Silverstone? How exciting could it possibly be to drive a car in circles around some dumb English race track? And how much fun could it possibly be to drive a performance car with dyslexic motor controls – power-shifting with my left hand? That’s crazy talk! Besides, I thought, racing cars is about as booooooring as baseball and golf.

D’oh! I was such an ignorant fool!

The thing is that, while I find watching cars race around a track IS about as boring as watching baseball or golf, actually driving racing cars around a track is COOOOOL! What I mean by that is it’s awesome! :) Hmmm… perhaps some context would help...

I was in England for most of the week on business – and am actually writing this blog entry on an SAS flight 10,000 metres above the North Sea while returning to Stockholm. I had several meetings in London in respect to some cool new technology I’m doing due diligence on, and had two significant presentations to deliver in Buckinghamshire. All that stuff went well, though I won’t discuss it here.

At the end of two very long days, I was asked to attend an event at Silverstone where people were going to be discussing widget and hammer technology, and then driving a few cars in circles. I had a flight booked for the morning, and had already talked about enough widget and hammer technology to turn blue in the face, so I deferred to a colleague who was really very interested in driving cars in circles and more than capable of answering questions about widgets and hammers. The powers that be agreed with me, thinking that was a great idea, and misinterpreted it as a recommendation that both of us should go.

The event at Silverstone was great. We started with a nice English breakfast (by nice I mean that the toast didn’t come deep-fried and covered with an inch of butter, but that everything else was essentially a large plate of soggy cholesterol, gristle, oil and fat) and then an obligatory presentation about widget and hammer technology which, as always, captivated the audience. Widgets and hammers are pretty big these days.

Anyway, blah blah blah, we donned racing suits meant to make our separated groups look and feel like racing teams, but which I suspect likely weren’t flame-retardant –Underroos for grown-ups pretending to be Mario Andretti. The car guys, however, were very excited. For them, they were Superroos that might as well have included capes and either green rings or utility belts from Wayne Manor. As we walked down the hallway en masse, they started singing the Rocky theme and bouncing off walls. It was infectious and I joined in.

The first thing we did was meet the instructors who were going to show us the ropes (i.e. How Not To Die When Going Into a Corner at 210 Km/H). Mine was Matthew, a nice English bloke who kept calm and smiling throughout, which was admirable given my driving skill and innovative technique. Even after I spun out in a 720 when I braked into a curve at high speed and then locked-up the steering wheel trying to get out of it and ended up on some grass instead of in the wall, he was almost tranquil while directing me off the lawn and back onto the track. And when I power-shifted – in sequence - up to fifth to get my speed back, he politely asked me if I was having a good time, which I obviously was, as though that wasn’t glaringly obvious with my maniacal laughter and glee-glazed eyes.

I could lie and said I drove with the grace, finesse, subtlety and control of a champion. I could say that I was like Mario Andretti, Michael Schumacher or Paul Tracy (the only professional drivers I know by name), but the truth is I was more like a larger, clumsier, lummox-like version of Fred Flintstone in command of a fine performance-tuned automobile.

Frankly, I drove like I was mashing the control keys on a console video game with buttery hands. There were no subtleties. It was ugly, but terrible fun.

The rules, as explained by Matthew, were pretty simple:

1. Always brake in a straight line; never in a curve.
2. When you brake, brake hard. Then gear down before going into a curve.
3. When in a curve, keep your eye on the apex and a slight, consistent amount of pressure on the gas to keep the car level (tail down). Continue through the curve until you pass its apex and then apply gas with a lead foot as though trying to escape earth’s gravity.

Despite the very clear guidelines, when I was actually driving all I was thinking was “WHEEEEE!” while remembering to shift gears with my left hand. :)

I had four ten-minute sessions in total, two with an Audi TT (to get used to the track and for Matthew to determine whether I put his life at risk) and then two with the Lotus Elise. There were also auxiliary sessions in other cars like a Land Rover (on a special course designed by Land Rover) and a Rally Car, but those paled in comparison to the Lotus Elise.

It was a beautiful, boisterous way to spend a workday in England. I definitely said thank you to the person who bent my arm to make me go.

As for whether or not I am now a car guy, well, to be honest, I would still have to say no … until the next time I’m at Silverstone for a driving experience with my boys.

Cheers y’all.

Jeffrey

PS – Silverstone Circuit Driving Experiences are available to all. Visit their website at silverstone-circuit.co.uk/drivingexperiences/ for more information.

posted by jstar88 @ 11:31 PM