Living the Dream in a Renault F1 Car
Tease the throttle and feel the V10 take a slurp of air as the revs rise from their idle at 6,000 rpm. The noise is angry, urgent, brutal and yet majestic. The vibration shivers the carbon-fiber tub in which I'm sitting and then scurries down my spine. Concentrate. Think. Extend a right digit as you grip the steering wheel; give the right shift paddle a flick to engage a cog.
It's like learning to drive all over again. Heart pumping, I ease out the clutch, feeling for the biting point, anticipating the first sign of forward motion, wanting it so badly. The wheels start to move, the clutch is out and the engine is still alive!
I let out a high-pitched yelp of delight that's uncomfortably girly. I am living the dream; I am driving a Formula 1 car.
What Am I Doing Here?
This is Circuit Paul Ricard, a racing circuit built in 1969 not far from Marseilles to host the Grand Prix of France that has since become an ultra-sophisticated test facility for racing cars and street cars alike. Only last week, the leading drivers in the F1 championship were pounding around here, as Messrs Hamilton, Raikkonen and Massa were fine-tuning the aerodynamics of their McLaren and Ferrari F1 cars. But today there's just an empty race circuit, a few anxious technicians and a hapless hack behind the wheel of this million-dollar car.
The F1 car I'm driving is based on the Renault R26 in which Fernando Alonso won the FIA F1 world championship for drivers in 2006, although it's wearing the livery of this year's ING-sponsored Renault R28. And it carries a version of the current car's 2.4-liter V8 instead of the original 3.0-liter V10. It's a bit of a hybrid, but its potency is not in doubt, as more than 700 horses propel less than 1,433 pounds. To put this into context, a Bugatti Veyron offers up 1,001 horsepower, yet weighs 4,160 pounds.
The end of pit lane opens up and I start to extend my right foot. The engine makes an assault on my eardrums and delivers a jab to my spine. This might be my only chance to drive an F1 car, and I'm not about to waste it.
Into the Arcade Game
Out onto the circuit. I snatch 3rd gear and feel my head make that bobbing motion that I've seen so often on the onboard footage from F1 races. The acceleration is brutal and physical, but also refined and delicate. This car feels like a precision instrument that's been fine-tuned late into the night by men with planet-sized brains. If you're going to spend $500M a year going Grand Prix racing, then you're going to employ the best and give them the finest tools.
Corner one is a 90-degree right-hander that's taken in 2nd gear. I kick the brake pedal with as much force as I dare. It feels uncouth and imprecise, but this is what I've been told to do. Talk to any modern driver and they'll tell you that the power of the brakes is the biggest difference between an F1 car and any other racing machine.
Robert Doornbos, who has raced for Minardi and Red Bull in F1 and also finished 2nd in last year's Champ Car series, is here today, offering advice. "When your brain says you have to hit the brakes, you can stay on the throttle for another 2 seconds," he says. "I remember my first braking point in an F1 test; I remember my head going down a bit and then when I looked up I hadn't even reached the corner and I had to get back on the throttle. That's the biggest challenge and that's why it's such a huge jump from the lower formulae."
This morning, I'd warmed up in a 192-hp Formula Renault, an entry-level series for open-wheel racing that's three rungs on the racing ladder below Formula 1. Analysis of the telemetry from the car showed that I was only using half as much braking performance as I should have. And, what's more, I'd been inconsistent in my pedal pressure, creating an effect similar to cadence braking.
"Do that in the F1 car and you'll almost certainly spin," said my genial race engineer. "A Formula Renault car allows you to make mistakes; an F1 car does not. It's one smooth movement — on and off." In racing, telemetry is your friend and enemy. It helps you improve, but gives you nowhere to hide — the cockpit of a racing car becomes a BS-free zone.
Climbing a Mountain of Money
To sit where I am today, a typical driver will have expended 10 years of his life — not to mention over $2 million spent on racing in other cars. Even to get as far as a simple test like this, a driver must be a member of a special elite, and yet he knows he might never again get another chance to prove his worth.
For me, there is no such pressure of expectation. I am here after an invitation too good to refuse from the ING financial consortium that sponsors the Renault F1 team, not because I have any illusions about a change of career. But it still matters to me. I don't want to remember the day that I made a prat of myself in an F1 car.
A small chicane leads into a 3rd-gear left-hander that itself opens up onto a straightaway. I depress the throttle pedal as smoothly as I can until it will go no further. There is an angry shriek and my reference points for automotive physics are redefined. In road car terms, even a Formula Renault is extraordinarily rapid — zero to 100 mph takes just 4.9 seconds — but an F1 car belongs to an entirely different world.
In a car like this, there's a very real danger that your brain will fail to keep pace with the car and you'll still be computing the exit to the last corner when you arrive at the braking point for the next. And then you have to cope with the aerodynamic downforce.
Dabbling With Downforce
At the back of the circuit, there's a 4th-gear right-hander that requires plenty of commitment. In the Formula Renault, it required a downshift and a single, smooth steering input. Now in the Renault F1 car, the faster I go, the more downforce the car generates and the better it is, but it becomes harder and harder to judge the limit of the phenomenon.
In an F1 car, downforce is everything. This is what allows the car to corner at 4.5g, brake at 5.5g and, in theory, run upside-down in a tunnel at just 100 mph. To succeed, you have to deal with the counterintuitive notion that the faster you go, the more cornering grip is available. It challenges your mind while battering your body.
This morning, a doctor had to certify my fitness for this drive, but his examination also reminded me how hopeless I'd be at withstanding forces of 5 Gs for any length of time, much less the two hours of an F1 race.
Feeling the Power
On the pit straight, I apply full throttle from 2nd gear, reacting to the arrival of the rev limiter with a twitch of my right index finger. By the end of the straight, I'm in 5th and the telemetry will reveal that my speed is in excess of 150 mph. With around 76 yards to go until the next corner, I stamp on the brakes, feel my head take an involuntary bow and shift down four gears.
The speed is scrubbed off in an instant, but without finesse or precision. There's little feedback from the carbon brakes and my entry speed is all guesswork. This morning, in the Formula Renault, I felt confident and comfortable from the first lap, but this is very different. It's intimidating. An F1 car demands your respect.
It is also impossible to ignore the value of this car. Break a front wing and you'll face a bill for $20,000, while an engine rebuild costs more than the price of a new Ferrari. Bending one is not a good career move.
Living the Dream
No one ever forgets his first drive in an F1 car. In Turkey this year, Rubens Barrichello set a new record with the number of F1 races in which he's competed, surpassing Ricardo Patrese's mark of 256 races, but he can still recall the first time he was bolted into a Jordan F1 car back in 1992.
"It was such a special day, I couldn't sleep much the night before," Barrichello recalls. "I drove for just six laps on the south circuit at the Silverstone circuit, then I did a full test day within a week of that. Then I got the confidence of the team and away I went."
Barrichello has lived the dream for the past 16 years, yet his enthusiasm is undiminished. And as I return to the pits with the Renault F1 car and kill the engine, it's not difficult to see why. This morning, I'd worried that after so much anticipation, the reality would be underwhelming. Right now, that fear seems ridiculous. This was a genuinely extraordinary experience.
Video:edmunds
Tease the throttle and feel the V10 take a slurp of air as the revs rise from their idle at 6,000 rpm. The noise is angry, urgent, brutal and yet majestic. The vibration shivers the carbon-fiber tub in which I'm sitting and then scurries down my spine. Concentrate. Think. Extend a right digit as you grip the steering wheel; give the right shift paddle a flick to engage a cog.
It's like learning to drive all over again. Heart pumping, I ease out the clutch, feeling for the biting point, anticipating the first sign of forward motion, wanting it so badly. The wheels start to move, the clutch is out and the engine is still alive!
I let out a high-pitched yelp of delight that's uncomfortably girly. I am living the dream; I am driving a Formula 1 car.
What Am I Doing Here?
This is Circuit Paul Ricard, a racing circuit built in 1969 not far from Marseilles to host the Grand Prix of France that has since become an ultra-sophisticated test facility for racing cars and street cars alike. Only last week, the leading drivers in the F1 championship were pounding around here, as Messrs Hamilton, Raikkonen and Massa were fine-tuning the aerodynamics of their McLaren and Ferrari F1 cars. But today there's just an empty race circuit, a few anxious technicians and a hapless hack behind the wheel of this million-dollar car.
The F1 car I'm driving is based on the Renault R26 in which Fernando Alonso won the FIA F1 world championship for drivers in 2006, although it's wearing the livery of this year's ING-sponsored Renault R28. And it carries a version of the current car's 2.4-liter V8 instead of the original 3.0-liter V10. It's a bit of a hybrid, but its potency is not in doubt, as more than 700 horses propel less than 1,433 pounds. To put this into context, a Bugatti Veyron offers up 1,001 horsepower, yet weighs 4,160 pounds.
The end of pit lane opens up and I start to extend my right foot. The engine makes an assault on my eardrums and delivers a jab to my spine. This might be my only chance to drive an F1 car, and I'm not about to waste it.
Into the Arcade Game
Out onto the circuit. I snatch 3rd gear and feel my head make that bobbing motion that I've seen so often on the onboard footage from F1 races. The acceleration is brutal and physical, but also refined and delicate. This car feels like a precision instrument that's been fine-tuned late into the night by men with planet-sized brains. If you're going to spend $500M a year going Grand Prix racing, then you're going to employ the best and give them the finest tools.
Corner one is a 90-degree right-hander that's taken in 2nd gear. I kick the brake pedal with as much force as I dare. It feels uncouth and imprecise, but this is what I've been told to do. Talk to any modern driver and they'll tell you that the power of the brakes is the biggest difference between an F1 car and any other racing machine.
Robert Doornbos, who has raced for Minardi and Red Bull in F1 and also finished 2nd in last year's Champ Car series, is here today, offering advice. "When your brain says you have to hit the brakes, you can stay on the throttle for another 2 seconds," he says. "I remember my first braking point in an F1 test; I remember my head going down a bit and then when I looked up I hadn't even reached the corner and I had to get back on the throttle. That's the biggest challenge and that's why it's such a huge jump from the lower formulae."
This morning, I'd warmed up in a 192-hp Formula Renault, an entry-level series for open-wheel racing that's three rungs on the racing ladder below Formula 1. Analysis of the telemetry from the car showed that I was only using half as much braking performance as I should have. And, what's more, I'd been inconsistent in my pedal pressure, creating an effect similar to cadence braking.
"Do that in the F1 car and you'll almost certainly spin," said my genial race engineer. "A Formula Renault car allows you to make mistakes; an F1 car does not. It's one smooth movement — on and off." In racing, telemetry is your friend and enemy. It helps you improve, but gives you nowhere to hide — the cockpit of a racing car becomes a BS-free zone.
Climbing a Mountain of Money
To sit where I am today, a typical driver will have expended 10 years of his life — not to mention over $2 million spent on racing in other cars. Even to get as far as a simple test like this, a driver must be a member of a special elite, and yet he knows he might never again get another chance to prove his worth.
For me, there is no such pressure of expectation. I am here after an invitation too good to refuse from the ING financial consortium that sponsors the Renault F1 team, not because I have any illusions about a change of career. But it still matters to me. I don't want to remember the day that I made a prat of myself in an F1 car.
A small chicane leads into a 3rd-gear left-hander that itself opens up onto a straightaway. I depress the throttle pedal as smoothly as I can until it will go no further. There is an angry shriek and my reference points for automotive physics are redefined. In road car terms, even a Formula Renault is extraordinarily rapid — zero to 100 mph takes just 4.9 seconds — but an F1 car belongs to an entirely different world.
In a car like this, there's a very real danger that your brain will fail to keep pace with the car and you'll still be computing the exit to the last corner when you arrive at the braking point for the next. And then you have to cope with the aerodynamic downforce.
Dabbling With Downforce
At the back of the circuit, there's a 4th-gear right-hander that requires plenty of commitment. In the Formula Renault, it required a downshift and a single, smooth steering input. Now in the Renault F1 car, the faster I go, the more downforce the car generates and the better it is, but it becomes harder and harder to judge the limit of the phenomenon.
In an F1 car, downforce is everything. This is what allows the car to corner at 4.5g, brake at 5.5g and, in theory, run upside-down in a tunnel at just 100 mph. To succeed, you have to deal with the counterintuitive notion that the faster you go, the more cornering grip is available. It challenges your mind while battering your body.
This morning, a doctor had to certify my fitness for this drive, but his examination also reminded me how hopeless I'd be at withstanding forces of 5 Gs for any length of time, much less the two hours of an F1 race.
Feeling the Power
On the pit straight, I apply full throttle from 2nd gear, reacting to the arrival of the rev limiter with a twitch of my right index finger. By the end of the straight, I'm in 5th and the telemetry will reveal that my speed is in excess of 150 mph. With around 76 yards to go until the next corner, I stamp on the brakes, feel my head take an involuntary bow and shift down four gears.
The speed is scrubbed off in an instant, but without finesse or precision. There's little feedback from the carbon brakes and my entry speed is all guesswork. This morning, in the Formula Renault, I felt confident and comfortable from the first lap, but this is very different. It's intimidating. An F1 car demands your respect.
It is also impossible to ignore the value of this car. Break a front wing and you'll face a bill for $20,000, while an engine rebuild costs more than the price of a new Ferrari. Bending one is not a good career move.
Living the Dream
No one ever forgets his first drive in an F1 car. In Turkey this year, Rubens Barrichello set a new record with the number of F1 races in which he's competed, surpassing Ricardo Patrese's mark of 256 races, but he can still recall the first time he was bolted into a Jordan F1 car back in 1992.
"It was such a special day, I couldn't sleep much the night before," Barrichello recalls. "I drove for just six laps on the south circuit at the Silverstone circuit, then I did a full test day within a week of that. Then I got the confidence of the team and away I went."
Barrichello has lived the dream for the past 16 years, yet his enthusiasm is undiminished. And as I return to the pits with the Renault F1 car and kill the engine, it's not difficult to see why. This morning, I'd worried that after so much anticipation, the reality would be underwhelming. Right now, that fear seems ridiculous. This was a genuinely extraordinary experience.
Video:edmunds
