My day as an F1 driver
Steve Bennett was a lucky participant in our Feel It programme earlier this year. Here's his story of life as an F1 driver for the day… There are certain things you must do before you die. Some people make a list. I have. On mine there is some weird stuff like, for example, I want to stand on the North Pole and the South Pole. Not necessarily at the same time but, hey, I'll give it a go. I also want to have a night out with Beyonce. But she is a drop dead gorgeous megastar, so that's unlikely (...) - News
Steve Bennett was a lucky participant in our Feel It programme earlier this year. Here's his story of life as an F1 driver for the day…
There are certain things you must do before you die. Some people make a list. I have. On mine there is some weird stuff like, for example, I want to stand on the North Pole and the South Pole. Not necessarily at the same time but, hey, I'll give it a go. I also want to have a night out with Beyonce. But she is a drop dead gorgeous megastar, so that's unlikely to happen. Pity, really.
I'll bet, though, that there is one thing that will be on a lot of people's wish list? And if you are a petrolhead, and I mean a real petrolhead, then I guarantee it will be there. That is: to drive an F1 racing car! It's pretty high up on mine. It's right up there with my no-hoper of a night out with Beyonce.
So what do you do when the opportunity suddenly crops up out of the Blue? You grab it, that's what. With both of your greedy mitts and you don't let go. My opportunity came very recently when Radio 2 in Dubai held a competition to win a day with Renault F1 at the Hugaroring in Hungary. I first found out about it when I was on my way to work from Dubai to Abu Dhabi. I had a call from the radio station (it happens to me all the time!) telling me that some of my mates at work had nominated me and would I like the chance to win the competition? What a stupid question. Like I was going to say no!
It was apparently between me and someone else, and all people had to do was vote by text for their winner. Everyone at work sent multiple texts almost crashing the network and by six that evening I discovered I was the winner. Awesome! Ten minutes later I had a call from Renault F1 to give me the details of the prize. And what a prize! I would be flown to Budapest from Dubai, put up in a five star hotel for two nights, taken to the Hungaroring, be a guest of Renault F1 for the day and drive a Formula 1 racing car. Brilliant!
I rang my mum back home in the UK to tell her about it. Her response was simple and a rather undramatic. “Oh. That's nice, dear. Don't forget to put some clean underwear on.” Clean underwear?! I would need armour-plated underwear for what I was about to do.
Forty eight hours later and, with clean underwear packed, I found myself in Budapest. The Four Seasons Hotel is a swish and very palatial five star hotel next to the River Danube and my home for the next two nights. That evening I met up with some of the Renault team and the other participants for a very nice dinner and by eight the next morning, we found ourselves at the track.
The package provided by Renault is their ‘Feel It' programme designed to give individuals the experience of driving an F1 car. There is more to it than that, though. The day consisted of familiarisation laps in a Renault Megane, workshops covering track safety, driving technique, telemetry, an interesting one on ‘how to start an F1 racing car'(not as easy as your average Mondeo!). There were twelve laps in Formula Renault 2.0 single-seaters, hot passengers laps in a Renault Megane Trophy racer, hot passenger laps in a three seater F1 car and, of course, the 'Daddy': two laps in a genuine, 100% pukka F1 car.
The F1 cars we would be using had been modified slightly so that raw novices like us would have a fighting chance of driving them. The engines had been de-tuned slightly so that instead of revving to 17,000 rpm they now only rev to 11,000 rpm. But this still meant that there was 700bhp in that V10 engine behind you. All that power in a car that weighs less than a feather in a fluffy pillow. You have the flappy-paddle gear change, of course, but the steering wheel is a simpler version of the one Kubica and co use. A row of eleven rev lights along the top; a display showing gear selection and a few other bits and bobs that you don't really use.
One important modification is the foot-operated clutch. Renault discovered from previous events that mere mortals like us cannot use the hand-operated clutch like the one on the steering wheel that our superheroes' use, so they put a pedal in instead. You need thigh muscles like the Hulk to use it as well. Even with all these modifications, it doesn't take away from the fact that this is still a ferocious, brutal, powerful machine. It is still an F1 car.
After being kitted out in our racesuits, we were split into four teams of three and then met the Renault F1 team. A safety briefing followed and it was obvious that safety would be a key element throughout the day.
So when do I get to drive the car? Patience, my friend. We were piled into a Renault Megane Scenic for familiarisation laps, then the real work began. Our first session would be in Formula Renault 2.0 single-seaters, but before that an examination by a physiotherapist was needed, just to make sure we could handle everything without our bodies giving up. Then a workshop covering what the coloured flags mean, how to start these cars and get it moving, and what to do if we spin.
Then it was time for action. For the first session we were to drive behind an instructor in a Renault Clio Cup car. He would show us the racing line and all we had to do was follow him and hang on.
This was the first time I've driven a single-seat race car and the first thing you notice is that they are low. Very low! Your backside is just two inches off the tarmac and, interestingly, the driving position means that your feet are higher than your bum. OK! It was now time to start this machine. On with the master switch and press the starter. Instantly the 2 litre engine bursts into life and a loud bellow erupts from behind your head. The throttle response is instantaneous and these engines rev much more quickly than in your normal road car. They are fitted with six speed sequential gearboxes, which differ from normal manual gearboxes in that you have a lever by your right leg and you just pull it hard to select each gear in turn, and then push it to change down. Sounds simple but it is far from it.
With my instructor leading the way, we moved out of the pit lane, then onto the track. We were off! Putting my foot down I tried to keep up with him. He was being easy with me on the first few laps but opened it up a bit as my confidence grew. Changing gear was surprisingly easy. You don't need to use the clutch to change up, just pull hard on the gear lever and, bang, you're up a gear. The only time you need the clutch is when changing down. Braking is hard. There is no servo assistance or ABS, so you really have to stand on the brakes to get them to work. But when they do, believe me, you stop! Coming into the first bend I realised the sensitivity of the steering. The gearing is such that one small twitch of the steering wheel and I was around the corner.
Marker cones were placed on the corners to mark the braking and turning points. Red for braking and blue for turning. Move over to the outside of the turn, hit the red marker, start to brake and change down. Hit the blue marker and start you turn, aiming for the second blue marker on the apex. Sounds easy? Err! No! Things happen so quickly you have little time to react. The steering is so sensitive that all you have to do is sneeze and you are off the track. The brakes require monumental effort to get them to work and you are absolutely petrified of getting it wrong.
For six laps I battled with the effort of controlling this beast, trying to follow the racing line, control my braking and getting the gear changes right. All too soon the six laps were over and we went into the telemetry workshop to see how we had done.
On a normal F1 car they use thirty two sensors to measure everything the car does. Here, on these cars, they used just four measuring: engine RPM, road speed, throttle opening and brake pressure. From mine it was clear I was doing most things wrong: not aggressive enough on the throttle and braking too soon. As far as braking is concerned, forget what your driving instructor told you, i.e. slow into a bend and fast out. Here it is the other way round. Fast in. Slow out. The reason is, apparently, to maximise the downforce on the car as you go into the bend. Easy? No!
The readouts confirmed my best lap time of 2:24. OK! But when you consider that Michael Schumacher lapped this circuit in 2004 in 1:19s, that just puts it into perspective.
After a thorough scrutiny of the telemetry readouts and some sage advice from the instructors, we were out again, this time without the instructors. I tried to remember what I had been told, so I gave it more throttle and tried to brake later and harder.
Trying to remember all this information was difficult and unfortunately, most of it went out of the window. I was more aggressive with the throttle and I did brake later as I grew in confidence, but I still mucked it up.
‘Should I be braking now? No! I'm braking too soon! Hang on. I'm in the wrong gear. I've missed the blue marker. Sod it! Just turn the wheel and see what happens.'
Thankfully I survived and by the last lap I had built up quite a bit of confidence. But it was over too soon and we were back into the pits. My telemetry readouts showed that I had improved. By applying some of the instructor's advice my lap time came down to 2:08. A sixteen-second improvement. Hey, Shuey! I'm on your tail, mate!
Before lunch there was one more thing to do. Hot passenger laps in a Renault Megane Trophy Racer. Awesome cars in their own right. This was to show us how it is really done. Starting from the start line the flag dropped and I was forcibly pushed back into my seat. Then I was to experience what real braking was all about. We shot past the red braking marker and I thought, ok, he's going to brake. Brake! BRAAAKE!!!! Then he did. Hard! The car went from phenomenal KPH to almost zero in a nanosecond and I was thrust forward painfully into my harness. Then, with a neck-snapping turn, we rounded the corner and then hard on with the power and I was thrust back into my seat again. For the next two laps I was subjected to a physical battering as the driver, one of Renault's F1's reserve drivers, gave me a display of total car control. Fantastic!
Lunch was a spirited affair with everyone swapping stories, but it also felt like the last meal of a condemned man; the last banquet for Gladiators about to enter the arena. For after this it was time for the Big Boy! The Daddy! It was time to drive a real, live, genuine, 100% pukka Formula 1 racing car.
Nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing on this planet. Although they did try. They put us into a mock up of an F1 cockpit to show us the starting procedure and how to change gear. They did it again in the real thing, but when you are sitting there, in the cockpit, ready to go, your mind is trembling with every fear and emotion. Will I make a mess of the start? Will I embarrass myself? What if I spin? What If I crash? Can I control this beast? Will I? Can I? HELP!……. I WANT MY MUMMY!!!!!
Too late, sunshine. You're in there. You could get out and suffer total humiliation but that is not what this is about. So man up and get on with it.
With the straps on tight I was ready. There were cameras all around taking photographs and video cameras inches from my face. Standing above me was a very pretty Dolly with a Brolly keeping the sun out and briefly, very briefly, I was Michael Schumacher! But then reality kicked in and I realised what I was about to do.
The instructor indicated to me to flick the master switch. No starter motor on these so an external starter was engaged into the back of the gearbox. I depressed the clutch, there was a whirring noise and then an almighty, bellowing roar erupted from behind my head. God! It was loud. Adjust the revs until you get one green rev light on the top of the steering wheel. Engage second gear with the flappy paddle on the right of the steering wheel. OK boy! This is it. You can do it!
Slowly I released the clutch and,… clunk! I stalled it! OK! No worries, I'm still alive so let's try again. Same procedure, this time more revs and… clunk! I stalled again! Noooooooo! This was now embarrassing. The instructors didn't have to say anything. The look on their faces said it all. I had to do it this time as it's three strikes and you're out. Right! With the engine bellowing behind me I very slowly released the clutch. I was moving. More revs! More revs! I was away. YEE HA!
I reached the end of the pit lane and opened the throttle. In reality it is not a throttle at all, but the keys to the gates of Hell! The acceleration was phenomenal as the screaming banshee of a V10 engine directly behind me unleashed the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and propelled me to the first corner. Keeping over to the left I reached the braking marker and planted my foot hard on to the brake pedal. The brakes are so powerful I almost stopped. Changing down a gear I turned the wheel to take the sharp right hander. Easy now! Easy now! Not too much throttle as you come out. Right! Now floor it! Well, I floored it as much as I dared and within seconds I was at the next corner.
These cars are designed so that you cannot change up unless you have at least four rev lights lit up and you can't change down unless you are braking.
Entering this left-hander I fluffed the gear change and entered in fourth instead of third. Never mind. With so much torque on tap I could have gone round in top without any drama. Exit to a fast right then uphill to a blind left. I braked a bit too hard for this one, going in too slow and I fluffed the gear change again. Then a right hander before the chicane. Right! Left! Through the chicane in one piece then a tight left. My gear changes wear now all over the place as I struggled with the physical effort of controlling this beast. Then a tight right to a fast sweeping left. I chickened out on this and lifted the throttle. On to a tight right then a ninety degree right hander. Slow here and exit to a tight left hand hairpin. I messed this up as well. A little too fast and in too high a gear so I went wide. Next, a sweeping right at the beginning of the start/finish straight.
I was getting more confident now and floored the throttle. The noise was incredible as I powered down the straight and the vibration was giving me double vision, but being a bit of a coward I chickened out of giving it full power.
My next lap was a little better. I still fluffed the gear changes and braked too soon, but at one point I did achieve maximum RPM at maximum throttle opening. The grip of these cars is prodigious. If you think your Subaru Impreza can grip, forget it! The grip of an F1 makes the grip of your average Scooby pale into insignificance.
All too soon it was over. At the end of my second lap, I entered the pit lane. I put my foot on the clutch, hit the kill switch and coasted to a halt in front of the instructor, breathless and mesmerised by what I had just done.
What could beat that? Not much I can tell you. Except, maybe, passenger laps in an F1 three-seater? And, that's what we got. With two extra seats fitted, one on each side, they give you a fantastic visual experience. Better that the tandem two-seater variety. And it's a chance to be shown how it is really done. The next two laps were the most ferocious experience of my life. A non-stop battle between being slammed back into the seat, thrust forward into the harness and the G-force. Tonnes of it! If you want to know why the likes of Button, Hamilton and Alonso spend so much time in the gym, have a couple of laps in one of these and find out.
Then it was all over. We packed up, cleaned up, and after a closing address it was back to the hotel, exhausted but incredibly elated.
So what did I learn from all this? I learnt that driving an F1 car is like nothing else on this planet. The physical and mental demands are immense, but the biggest lesson I learnt is that I cannot drive an F1 car. And no matter what you are thinking right now; trust me on this one, neither can you.
This was an incredible experience. To drive an F1 car is an unreal thing. It's like stepping into a different world. A world that us mere mortals can only watch from the sidelines. However, to feel the raw, unrelenting, brutal power of these magnificent machines, albeit very briefly, is something that you must do. And then, once you have, it will live with you for the rest of eternity.
I was lucky. I got my opportunity for free. But for regular punters, well, it's not cheap. At 5,500 Euros that's a serious wedge of cash. But you must do it. Sell your house and live in a tent. It's worth it. Honest.
For me I would like to thank Radio 2 for Dubai setting this up. I would also like to thank the Renault F1 Team for the most memorable day of my life. Last but not least, I would like to thank all my friends who voted for me. Actually, I didn't know I had that many!
So what next? I haven't got a clue. It will take a lot to trump that. Although, hang on, I've just thought of something. Does anyone have Beyonce's telephone number? Hey, come on, after this it's worth a shot!
Eliza Dushku Adriana Lima
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