I cautiously test the throttle, and am surprised by a monstrous surge of power. With such a light, rear-biased car, smooth inputs are crucial. After a couple of laps, I relax, ease up my grip on the wheel and let the car unwind. I'm starting to get the hang of the 5-speed sequential gearbox, pushing the lever forward to downshift and back to upshift.
Since the body and legs are tightly secured by the harness, there's no bracing in the tight turns, and the hands and feet are free for tricky heel n' toe choreography.
This is performance driving at its purest—there's no windshield, no deadening insulation, no cushioning suspension—just driver and car, together (hopefully) in harmony.
Gaining confidence, I mash the throttle in the long straight. The sound is deafening, the pavement rattles beneath my backside and the rushing air pulls at my helmet. The corner comes up fast as I downshift, remembering to blip the throttle by rolling the side of my braking foot over the gas pedal, raising the rpms so that the brakes are slowing the car down instead of the engine.
My head is thrown forward by the force of the powerful AP racing brakes and I hold my breath, praying that the RE11s hold in the tight turn. They do; the amount of grip is admirable, and I grow braver in leaps and bounds. Tearing through turns two and three, the car unwinds in a beautiful sweep.
I'm in the zone now, the car and I have become one. I'm blasting down the Mulsanne Straight at 250 km/h, I'm Gilles Villeneuve battling René Arnoux in the 1979 French Grand Prix...
I'm...backwards.
Crimson with embarrassment, I restart the car and continue to the pits, where the crew descend en masse, tighten the lug nuts, then quickly wave me on my way. I had forgotten the cardinal rule: stay focused.
We're joined on the second day by James Hinchcliffe, rising Indy Car driver with Newman/Hass Racing, and the only Canadian rookie competing in the series. Humble, energetic, Hinchcliffe has a genuine enthusiasm that's apparent in the attention he gives each of the students. Sitting down with us, one-on-one after each session, he evaluates our laps turn by turn.
 |
| Photo: Lesley Wimbush/Auto123.com |
Since the body and legs are tightly secured by the harness, there's no bracing in the tight turns, and the hands and feet are free for tricky heel n' toe choreography.
This is performance driving at its purest—there's no windshield, no deadening insulation, no cushioning suspension—just driver and car, together (hopefully) in harmony.
Gaining confidence, I mash the throttle in the long straight. The sound is deafening, the pavement rattles beneath my backside and the rushing air pulls at my helmet. The corner comes up fast as I downshift, remembering to blip the throttle by rolling the side of my braking foot over the gas pedal, raising the rpms so that the brakes are slowing the car down instead of the engine.
My head is thrown forward by the force of the powerful AP racing brakes and I hold my breath, praying that the RE11s hold in the tight turn. They do; the amount of grip is admirable, and I grow braver in leaps and bounds. Tearing through turns two and three, the car unwinds in a beautiful sweep.
I'm in the zone now, the car and I have become one. I'm blasting down the Mulsanne Straight at 250 km/h, I'm Gilles Villeneuve battling René Arnoux in the 1979 French Grand Prix...
I'm...backwards.
Crimson with embarrassment, I restart the car and continue to the pits, where the crew descend en masse, tighten the lug nuts, then quickly wave me on my way. I had forgotten the cardinal rule: stay focused.
We're joined on the second day by James Hinchcliffe, rising Indy Car driver with Newman/Hass Racing, and the only Canadian rookie competing in the series. Humble, energetic, Hinchcliffe has a genuine enthusiasm that's apparent in the attention he gives each of the students. Sitting down with us, one-on-one after each session, he evaluates our laps turn by turn.
 |
| Photo: Lesley Wimbush/Auto123.com |