Running on Neat Adrenalin

RACING CIRCUITS WERE ONCE A MALE ONLY DOMAIN WHILST YOUR BIRD STOOD BEHIND THE CHICKEN WIRE, TAKING SNAPS FOR THE FAMILY ALBUM. BUT HEY, HAVEN’T TIMES CHANGED, AND TO MAKE A POINT WE SENT OUR GIRL SARAH OUT FOR A BURN UP AT BRANDS HATCH...AND PERHAPS SHOW THE MEN A THING OR TWO...

It was 8am in pit lane garage 5, Brands Hatch. But, in reality it was more like a tense dentist waiting room and we've all just been told they're going to use a mallet to extract our wisdom teeth.
I was convinced the 21 madmen around me - okay bar one other woman - could hear my heartbeat as it pounded louder and louder. My mouth was on a day trip to the Sahara and the smell of testosterone Au De Sweat filled the air, whilst all eyes were on senior racing instructor Barry Osborn. He’d clocked up 20-odd years in his job and had just come out of retirement to race go-karts professionally, so clearly he was worth listening to.
This was no place for peeps with a lack of bottle; not only was there the chance to take out to play a RaceMaster Mégane Renaultsport 230 F1 Team with a limited slip diff, but also a single-seater Formula Brands, based on the super-quick Palmer Audis.
The Méganes looked hardcore with their F1 Team/RaceMaster livery, stripped out back seats and roll cage. Imagine how hard the fleet of 18 cars have to work, being thrashed and pushed to extremes each trackday. Brake pads and discs get cooked rapidly; tyres are toast after just five outings and the clutch, well the smell of this fi lled the air each time one returned to the pits, so it’s anyone’s guess.

SHAKY START

Now thanks to the neat adrenalin pumping through my veins, my hands were shaking and I couldn’t even string a sentence together as I was handed my crash helmet and frog marched to Mégane car number 1. Nine of us were being let loose out on track in one go to play a very expensive game of dodgems.
Thankfully for me, my passenger was racing instructor Paul ‘daredevil’ Sleeman, (a winner of 159 races to date) who put me at ease and after one recce-mission lap of the Indy circuit, it was all systems go! go! go! There was no dawdling allowed; a few moments of early lap hesitations were quickly pointed out by Paul and soon I was caning it big time on full throttle, experiencing the stomach churning G-forces of Paddock Hill Bend followed by a hasty change down to third and a stomp on the brakes for the tight right hander at Druids Bend. Handily, the marshals had kitted out the circuit with ‘brake’ boards and coloured cones so it was obvious where we should be changing gear, slowing down and turning in.
From Clearways the top speed fun really started, turning down to the Brabham Straight start/finish line and clocking up 95mph. A quick glance in the mirrors proved I was safe to take the racing line into Paddock Hill again, holding the superb 2.0-litre turbo monster right on the edge as I powered up the hill with a mega stupid grin on my face.
Barking instructions of encouragement,
Paul pushed me to go faster still to keep the looming bonnets of other Meganes at bay. Forget road rage; I had a few moments of track rage as slower drivers weren’t paying attention and hogging the racing line, dampening the fun factor. In a blur, 10 laps were over and it was time to surrender and let someone else have a go (damn it!).
But then, the next stage was one that I really feared; joking aside I wasn’t keen on scraping my ar*e along the asphalt in a single-seater. The Formula Brands weigh only 450kg and are powered by a rear-engined 1.8-litre lump, giving a limited 125bhp. Yeah okay this sounds pretty feeble, but climb in the innards to get behind that tiny steering wheel and suddenly everything seems very daunting, very real and well, very close to the ground where it feels like you’re going a heck of a lot faster than what you are.

SINGLE MINDED MADNESS

I sat through the driver’s briefing for the single seaters dazed like a rabbit in headlights. I’d already convinced myself I wouldn’t be capable of driving such a mental race car and I’d be the first one to stall. For starters, the short shift gear lever was on the right-hand side and the biting point would be a challenge. Cue the adrenalin rush; it was definitely fight or flight time. In my head my legs were running; in reality I was stepping into the seat and being strapped in. There was no going back now...I was at the front of the queue in the pit lane and everyone was relying on me to pull away and get out there.
I whacked it up to 2,000rpm, found thebiting point and took the plunge. Blimey – it was instantly all raw seat-of-your-pants stuff; forget the comfort and luxury of a Mégane saloon car. Every bump and imperfection in the track was vibrating through my rear. In my first lap, I passed two single-seaters that had stopped already by the side of the track – ‘so long suckers!’ – reached the end of Brabham Straight and then I couldn’t find third gear. The gadget in front of me was saying I was stuck inneutral and I was coasting round Paddock Hill Bend, until a few crunches later, I discovered what I was looking for.
My first laptime was 1:27.40; time to go faster. Four laps in, I’d shaved off seven seconds and was brimming in confidence, getting used to crunching the gears and bouncing off the rev limiter to hit 85mph as I met the fast start/finish line.
By the time I’d reached lap nine, I brought the single-seater home in 1:18.44 and took sixth place overall. Not bad I guess for a first timer! Would I do the RaceMaster again? Being an adrenalin junky, most probably.