For true fans, the idea of driving F1 isn't just about speed, it's a way to get in touch with your greatest ambitions. Nick Hall climbed into the cockpit to tackle the F1 experience
The whole world shook and my stomach was on a fast spin cycle. The wind threatened to rip my head off and flies exploded with near nuclear force on the helmet's visor. I was driving a Formula One car - and so can you.
England's Mallory Park offers the Formula One Experience. An event that allows willing punters with £1,300 (€1,944) the chance to jump behind the wheel of a Grand Prix car for the wildest eight minutes of their lives. They even throw in a night at a local hotel.
The brace of Tyrrells employed by John Farnham's Everyman Racing School operation are almost 20 years old and last saw active service in 1988. But despite their age the experience isn't dampened. It's still a Grand Prix car, has 600bhp courtesy of a 3-litre Cosworth DFV V8 and is, probably, the fastest car you will ever drive. Plus, with massive 20" slick tyres, a real clutch and gearbox, the Tyrrell is a purer driving experience than the electronics-led control room that is a modern F1 cockpit. And it's no easy thrill, which is why prospective drivers must prove themselves in lesser machines: an E-Type Jaguar or Ferrari followed by a Formula Ford and then the two-litre Formula Opel Lotus with slicks, wings and a 150mph top end. All are spectacular, but here they were just hors d'oeuvres. Having passed these basic tests, I found myself being poured into the main course, scraping shins on the reinforcing roll hoops that keep the car tight. Mechanics pulled the six-point safety harness tight enough to render me sterile and the engine was fired up with a remote starter. Then the whole world started trembling.
The engine is directly attached to the chassis and so is the seat and there's no insulation. So when the V8 erupted into life behind my head the kinetic energy was so utterly violent I could feel internal organs synchronising with the thrumming, agricultural beat.
A few last-minute instructions from the on-site instructors and I was off. "Don't go home in a plaster cast or dripping with blood." These were the words that lingered from the pre-flight safety briefing. While the safest place to be when a modern F1 car crashes is inside it, in 1988 that wasn't the case. My feet now sat proud of the axle and a heavy frontal collision would rip them straight off. But halfway round the first turn the fear of death and recalcitrant controls gave way to pure adrenaline.
In a straight line this beast will fly to 60mph in less than three seconds and max out at 200mph. It was beautifully controlled and only the wind noise, the glorious sound of that agricultural old V8 heading towards the redline and suicidal insects splattering themselves on my field of vision gave any true sense of speed. They might be crazy speeds, but the car is a purpose-built safety catch. Finding the limits would be harder than catching flies with chopsticks, but driving faster than you'd ever imagined possible? That's easy.
Weighing in at just 600kg and equipped with steering that borders on telepathy, this flyweight changes direction faster than a cornered politician. Just nudge the wheel with a fingertip grip and the car has already blasted through the bend and is on to the next apex - it's that good. If you cross your hands, chances are you've already spun.
Mallory Park is famous for Gerard's Corner, a long 180-degree bend that tightens towards the exit and is a real test of nerve. Every lap, I braked later and later until finally, on the last lap, it took just a confidence lift before throwing the car into the bend and feeling the sheer weight of G-force pushing my head towards the massive sidepods.
The faster you drive, the harder it sticks those huge tyres to the floor, thanks to air pressure on the monumental wings that press the car to the tarmac and allow cornering speeds that are just beyond the realms of sanity.
The only place it even came close to going sideways was on the exit of the 40mph hairpin bend, where the aerodynamics don't work and judicious use of the right foot is all that keeps the Tyrrell on the black stuff.
Braking, too, is phenomenal and stamping on the pedal rips tears from your eyes and leaves belt-shaped bruises on your ribcage as it hauls the car down from triple figures in what feels like metres. With so little weight, almost no suspension travel to send the car pitching on to its nose and all the advantages of aerodynamic griphitting the wall would be the only faster way to stop. There are only four real corners and with a car that can hit 165mph before the braking zone on the two long straights, each lap takes less than a minute. Still, this will be the most exhilarating eight minutes money can buy, within the law anyway.
There's only one problem: the entire art of driving must be thrown in the bin and rewritten with a car this capable. Eight laps just isn't enough to learn the new rules, and the people at Everyman know it. You can buy more time in the car, but for most it's the perfect compromise: a chance to taste F1 power and not enough to get cocky and make painful mistakes.
Still, the chequered flag would have come out too soon even after 1,000 laps, that's how good this car is and how good an experience Everyman offers. You won't get the million dollar pay cheque, the Monaco apartment or the adoration of fans, but for one day you can be a Formula One driver. And that is priceless.
See www.everymanracing.co.uk for more