A sickly, nauseous sensation permeates my lower body as my stomach tries to flee. The six-point harness envelops my testicles and slams my bladder against the hard, aluminum seat so that I'm perpetually in need of a pee. My right leg shakes slightly as it does battle with the adrenaline, dispelling any hopes of throttle control. And all the while, the rational third of my brain tries to tell my rebellious streak that motor racing is not the pursuit of a discerning young professional.
It's been two years since I raced anything serious, and I'd almost forgotten what the rush was like. A glimpse through my visor reveals a gaggle of identical Ginetta G20 Cup cars, navigating through Druids bend on the daunting Oulton Park circuit in northwest England. It's the formation lap, and my mirrors are crammed with several more, some of which are swerving from side to side in a bid to warm their hand-cut slicks. I'm reliably informed that this is of little use, but at least it adds to the Schumacher-experience.
My rivals are a disparate bunch and span an age range of almost 40 years. A 52-year-old property developer will line up in front of a 27-year-old hydraulic engineer, while the polesitter, Gavin Mitchell, is an ex-karter in his second year of car racing. The key to the championship's appeal is the price. A G20 racecar costs just #12,495 ($20,834) fully assembled, which, in motor racing terms, is an absolute bargain.
For some, championship is a means to an end. Several former racers have progressed to GT racing, and Ginetta is currently developing a G20 GT car to facilitate the jump. Others, though, view the championship as an end in itself. "I'm too big, too old and too underfunded to have a serious career in motorsport, so I'm here to have some fun," says Dean Chiddention. He trailers his car to each round, and his chief mechanic is also his workmate. "I reckon that it costs me around #5,000 ($8,337) per season," he continues, "but that includes all accommodation and transport costs."
Around half the cars are maintained by professional teams. Richard Hollebon is the boss of Richmond Racing, which is responsible for three cars. "We offer an arrive-and-drive package and specialize in helping novices," he explains. Richmond charges #7,500 ($12,506) per year, but this does not include such consumables as oil or tires. "I advise our drivers to budget for #15,000 ($25,011) all in," Hollebon concludes. It's a tempting proposition for those who have more money than time, but Chiddention's sixth place on the grid confirms the validity of either approach.
For your host, this is a one-off. I've been invited to sample the championship in the Gran Turismo 4 "celebrity" car, although in my case the word "celebrity" has been employed in its loosest possible sense. The plan had to been to arrive yesterday (Friday) and complete a day's testing before qualifying and racing on Saturday (today). But God had other ideas and cancelled the test with a ferocious downpour that mirrored the circuit with giant puddles. My first experience of the car in the dry was during the 15-minute qualifying session, and even that was red-flagged. In the circumstances, I was content to qualify 16 out of 21.
Over my lunchtime burger, I'd visualized a heroic start that put me on the tail of the top runners. But the reality dawned that I had no idea how to launch the car. Some said 5000 rpm would do the job; others suggested a more modest 2500 to 3000 rpm. As we form on the grid, I settle on 4000 rpm. Disaster. I sit there hopelessly as the Dunlop's spin their way to oblivion. I've lost at least two places by the first corner.
The G20's were designed to provide close, fail-safe racing. "A novice has enough to learn about racing without coping with an unfriendly car," said Ginetta's md, Martin Phaff. "When we designed the car in 2000, we wanted it to be safe and forgiving. You shouldn't get scared in a Ginetta." Despite its rear-wheel-drive configuration and the presence of a limited-slip differential, the car's natural tendency is to understeer, although much of this can be dialed out with an aggressive set-up.
My first lap would be best described as exploratory, but I still manage to move up a couple of places, as the nerves dissipate and my competitive instinct rushes to the fore. At the heart of the G20 is a 1.8-liter Ford engine, modified with a Pectel management system so that it develops 138 bhp. The car weighs 680kg (1,499 lb), so it's fast rather than furious--the pole time was set at an average of almost 80 mph around the 2.2-mile circuit.
By lap two, my confidence is gaining altitude, and I line up another pass on the run to the Island hairpin at the far end of the circuit. Two cars have spun off to the right and left, but the track is clear. I'm about to pull out when an orange Ginetta, in a moment of madness, decides to traverse the track in a bid to rejoin. A horrifying accident ensues as the car in front collects the recovering G20 and takes to the air. Darting right, I hit some of the debris but emerge unscathed. On the approach to the hairpin, I'm conscious that my heart has adopted a more strident beat.
The race, unsurprisingly, is red-flagged, and we return to the grid to be told that both drivers are unhurt. After a fluffed restart, I find myself once more at the back of the field. I pick off a couple of cars and settle into some sort of rhythm. The G20 is a car that can be driven with aggression. A more abrupt steering input than might normally be necessary helps to quell the initial understeer, and a determined throttle forces the rear through the bend. It lacks the agility of a Caterham, but time in the car brings an appreciation of its subtleties. The tail may be unwilling to wag, but finding the final tenths still requires patience and mental application.
Although the double wishbone suspension can be fine-tuned by adjusting the dampers or changing the springs and anti-roll bars, the focus is still very much on the driver. This is the beauty of single-make racing. In multi-marque or even multi-chassis championships, it's difficult to gauge one driver's talent relative to another. In a Ginetta, there's nowhere to hide.
Midway through the race, I'm on the edge of the top ten, grinning stupidly inside my helmet. The leaders may be some way in front, but my dice for position is real enough and the rush is enchanting. Then I hurry the change from two to three through the Knickerbrook chicane and the 'box slides into neutral. It's a couple of seconds before I find a ratio, and the loss of momentum allows two cars to pass.
A lap later, the checkered flag is waved: I've finished 13th. In parc ferme, there's a communal round of backslapping and paw shaking as anecdotes are swapped. Later, it's announced that the winner, Gavin Mitchell, has been excluded because of illegally modifying his engine. It's a sad end to a great day and wholly out of keeping with the spirit of the Ginetta Championship. I move up to 12th.
Like so many race drivers on a summer weekend, I begin the journey home pondering the "what ifs?" My lap times had improved to the point where I was beginning to feel genuinely competitive, and the racing bug, which had lain dormant for a couple of years, had suddenly sprung to life. This is a terrific series.
G20 Specs
L/W/H: 141 in./61 in./30 in.
Wheelbase: 84.5 in.
Track, f/r: 51 in./51 in.
Curb weight: 1,350 lb
Wheels: 7x15-in. alloy
Tires: 195/50-15, Dunlop
Suspension, f/r: Double wishbone, coilover adjustable shocks
Price: $21,400 to $28,000 (approx)
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