A BMWCC track day at the miniature Green Hell.

[Procion]

As no one else wanted to post anything thought I'd have a go!

 

Belt on, seat brought forward, headrest adjusted to accommodate helmet, steering wheel raised and pushed forward for ease of rapid turning, seat bolsters tightened to maximum. Feeling a bit edgy so wriggle in the seat and phaff with things.

Start the engine, reverse out of parking spot, eyes darting everywhere, senses heightened. Muted rumbling from an M4 adjacent that’s about to follow in my wake. Conscious of the now tightened stomach. Slowly turn left between the wooden fenced driveway entrance and gingerly crawl down the tree lined slope to the marshalling / scrutineering area.

Guy in a red overall to the right by the office gestures to stop. Wrist band, wave right arm and point to it. Points to neck, wants to see chin strap done up. Finally, gesturing again to put the window up. Eh? Oh Bugger! Forgot.

Palms now wet, heartbeat audible inside the helmet, the M4 behind is growling. Passing traffic on the circuit, waiting for what seems like for ever. Find myself fiddling with the iDrive, the ventilation, the wipers for no reason. I press the sport button, the display turns green, knock the stick left with the back of the hand into M/S. Come on for gawds sake.

The B5s V8 is purring softly, 740 ish revs, auto hold on, why is my foot on the brake? The red overall indicates to pull on the slipway, another red overall waves a flag and swings an arm in the direction of the circuit. I press the throttle, the V8 purrs again.

The big B5 catapults forward onto rubber marked tarmac in front of the clubhouse. Glance in the mirror, surge forward with stomach displacing speed, chop across the kerbs, no time to look at anything than the ever faster approaching right hander of the old hairpin. Stay left, find the kerb, looking right for the insanely downhill apex, scanning track for damp & leaves. All this whilst braking like hell.

Back off the brakes, turn hard and fumble to find the power before I straighten her up. The head up crosses my vision, 48 mph, must be in 2^nd, M4 filling the mirror. Stuff it, full boot down what seems like a cliff, the cambers the wrong way, bugger, the big beasts dash lights up as I desperately tried to lose the excess of applied speed before hacking across the apex of Barn corner. The M4 is right behind, howling its presence. I floor her, the engine note drops, the bonnet lifts slightly as she inexorably starts to walk away from the growling yellow M car. Downhill to the start/finish line, she’s at 125 and rising fast.

A structure whizzes past my peripheral vison, the rev counters at 5500 and spinning dementedly upwards. The sweeping left hander leading up the hill beckons, I’m now doing a 135, time to brake and stay right. A considered press of the brake knocks off 30mph, the rising ground takes another 10. Too fast, too fast! A panicked prod drops another untidy 10. The stability control flickers and the ABS buzzes as I point her up the hill. I turn the wheel and feel the oversteer creeping in as the Pirellis run out of grip.

Power full on, she sorts herself out romping up the hill with effortless abandon. Move left and ease back the power for the gentle right curve that’s Charlies. Balancing the beast on the power I feel the nose washing in and out according to my foot as she lunges towards the straight. The M4 has gained ground in the curve, I floor her once more, the gap reopens. Traffic ahead, thankfully indicating for me to pass. I canon along Park, past a Mini that’s perhaps doing 90. There’s a 3 series ahead, again indicating. The M4 is a yellow smudge to the distant rear. I’ve now hit 142 and rising fast, the quad tips bellowing the V8s song in full voice. I momentarily think how glorious the sound before realising, I’m running out of road.

Three cones at 100 mtr intervals and I’ve just passed one. Hard, hard, hard on the brakes, franticly toggling down the gears trying to lose speed as the red and white kerb approaches. I over cook it, the beasts tyres squeal in protest. I saw at the wheel desperately seeking grip, she gently but unstoppably floats left, leaning heavily as she does so. The nearside Pirellis contact the grass. The buttocks tense, the prospect of a roll over flashes through my mind.

There’s some sort of concrete structure underneath the grass, with a boot full of power she regains her poise. Powering round the sweeping curve once more I’m conscious of the Goose neck approaching. Get it right, it’s awesome, get it wrong the car becomes a lawnmower. I get it right; I realise I’m holding my breath, the M4 is catching again. I plunge down the hill wearing big boy pants.

Into Mansfield. Brake early, brake hard, she’s in 4^th ready for a full power exit and a stroll up into 3 digits. Traffic ahead, the circuit is wide here, the bus stop, rocket past them. Chop across to the white shed while braking for the hairpin.

I enter at 70 something, toggling down into a cruel 3^rd. I manage to exit at 60, somehow having maintained a straight but tyre squealy line. The track narrows sharply, brake, drop to 2^nd for the mountain. Rapid 90’ right turn, full power, the Mountain, I can’t see over its blind summit. Leap of faith. No waving flags, keep it full down. ½ way up she slams into 3^rd,  I hit the crest at 80 something. Gravity shoves me down in the seat, the revs suddenly peak, the steering goes light, the tyres squeal. I’m bloody air borne (or at least the suspensions at full stretch) in 2 ¼ tonnes of estate car! It feels like forever, we land, I back off the power for Hall bends, the clubhouse flashes past my left while the trees to the right grow ever denser.

Indicator on, the M4 shoots past. A bead of sweat drips off my nose, my hands are soaked, I’m absolutely buzzing with adrenaline. Another lap for cool down, no shrieking tyres this time around, relax, cool down and appraise the last slightly under 2 mins. What I did right, what I did wrong, what I could do better. Could I tidy up the approaches and gain a few of seconds?  Check the car out, tyre temperature was 70’C +, listen for any odd noises, feel for any vibration, let the turbos cool before a fag & coffee in the carpark.

I potter round, or so it feels, arriving at the base of the mountain and departing the track.  I park up, take off my rather moist helmet and step out of the car. I’m trembling slightly, the gentle breeze alerts me to how damp my clothing now is. I stand there admiring the car, I’m grinning like a demented fool and chuckling quietly to myself. Fumbling to spark up a fag I eventually manage to light it, inhaling slowly and deeply.

A fella comes up to me and starts telling me how amazing the car sounds at full whack before launching into his automotive life story. We idly chat for a few minutes discussing other participants, cars, grand prix and the weather.

The guy with the M4 rumbles in. He clambers out, removes his helmet, and comes sauntering across to talk. He’s blown away that a hulking great estate car can simply power away from him in a straight line. We talk cars for 10 mins.

To be honest, for me, a track day is the most fun you can have with your clothes on. A public day is just too dangerous for an expensive car that also happens to be the daily. Mixing it with looneys in Radicals and kids with lightening reactions but no hazard perception in stage whatever Fiestas can get hairy. Especially true in braking zones or bends where the no overtaking rule gets ignored. You might be within your capabilities but more often than not some others won’t be.

Car club days being private events means a lot of folk know each other and the standards of behaviour both on and off track are much better. Pacing rather than racing is the order of the day. Sure, someone will run out of talent but your very unlikely to experience misfortune unless its self-induced!  If you get chance, do one.

[duncan-uk]

Thank you, great write up and sums up track days - still remember my first in my e28, it was Cadwell Park, it was cold and raining, my tyres were not the deepest of tread.

First lap i saw a dolphin grey e30 M3 ended up in the barrier at the esses, the track under the trees at the end of the pit straight was greasy as and the rear kicked out, i drove like an absolute kitten but it was an amazing day - did many more - just don't have something suitable these days