Feeling quite pleased with myself, I headed for the reaction testing suite. I want one of these machines for my games room. It’s basically a large star shaped array of illuminated buttons which light up at random. As each one lights up, you hit it as quickly as you can, which brings on the next random light. After a few minutes of this, you ache all over, and the count of the number of lights you punched out gives a gauge of your reaction time. Great at parties. So finally, after a light lunch, a litre of Red Bull, and even more safety briefings, I’m as high as a kite and strapped into a Lotus Renault Formula 1 car in the pit lane of the Hungaroring. As Freddie said, “…Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?” As these cars have no starter motor, the guy with
“I felt as though my brain had been through a spin dryer” 22
Supercar
Issue 23
the oversized Black and Decker at the back of the car was signaled to pull the trigger, and the engine blurted into life. I stabbed the throttle to keep the revs up and prevent a neutral stall. We’d had half an hours lecture on how not to stall, (as famously demonstrated by Top Gear’s Richard Hammond), so my nerves were like razors by the time the pit marshal gave me the crocodile signal – time to go. Increase revs, into first, brake off, moving forward - we’re off. As I drove down the pit lane, the only way I could relate to what I was about to do was to shout at the top of my voice “…I’m in a Lotus Renault Formula 1 car, driving the Hungaroring…”, along with some expletives! It’s a struggle to put the experience into words. You are so low in the car, and the view of those huge front wheels from the cockpit dominates the field of view.