Going Hypersonic at Silverstone!
31/03/2012
I have a confession to make - I am an F1 fan and am delighted that the fast cars are back on the small screen. I have enjoyed watching the first couple of races from the 2012 Grand Prix season and today I got as close to having the experience of racing an F1 car as I am ever going to get. Would you like to know more? Read on if you are intrigued.
This afternoon saw me at Silverstone, my local friendly racing circuit; my visit purpose – to enjoy the Hypersonic Experience (which, you have to admit sounds damn cool, even if you don’t know what it is).
The Hypersonic Experience means having a most wonderful time as a passenger in a two seater racing car – and not just any fast car – a 3.7 litre V6 Ford Cyclone powered tandem ride designed and created by Fabrication Technique race engineers and weighing only 650kg. Other vital statistics include a six speed sequential racing gearbox, 340bhp per tonne, 0-60 in 3 seconds and a top speed of 150mph. Sometimes statistics really can sing to you.
This vehicular thoroughbred; gaudily attired and shod with some significant rubber looks so evolved as to be the spaceship to my trusty Skoda’s push bike. Still it would be difficult to pilot from Daventry to Milton Keynes on the daily commute down the A5.
The car looks like a single seat racing machine but there’s a second seat behind the driver for a passenger! This afternoon the second seat had the pleasure of getting acquainted with my posterior.
I arrived at Silverstone with my excitement levels building – it was cold but importantly dry – no reason then for the run to be cancelled. I signed in and waited expectantly for my go.
Once my turn came around, I was presented with a helmet and liner and, unexpectedly, knee pads. The elasticated knee pads, obviously deemed necessary by the instructors, did have the drawback of raising the level of my jeans by a couple of inches so that the hems hung above my shoes. The Homer Simpson socks and encased ankles were therefore exposed and, in the minutes before I could get in the car, my usually high standards of sartorial elegance were, if I am honest, a tad compromised.
Getting into the racing car was entertaining, I didn’t exactly need to be a contortionist but let’s just say that it was a good thing that I wasn’t more rotund or more elongated of form.
You lift your legs over the side pods and then you have to lower yourself into the cockpit and it’s a pretty snug fit! Essentially you sit a few inches off the track with your legs stretched out in front of you. Because of the fact that the driver is seated ahead of you; your legs end up running either side of him (and my chauffeur pretty much caught my ankle with every gear change – I didn’t care but it probably annoyed him).
Once ensconced, the instructors treat you to some five point harness bondage. And, when you are thoroughly trussed (it’s a good thing I don’t want anymore children), you are ready to begin your journey of F1esque discovery. And, let me extol, the wait was well worth it.
A short run out of the makeshift pit environment and the track beckoned. My chauffeur obligingly planted his size nine (or thereabouts) to the metal (well perhaps carbon fibre) and we were off, and I mean off like a shot. And can you guess? I found zero to sixty in three and a half seconds to be rather appealing. Let’s just say that on Monday the Fabia will feel distinctly lacking in the vehicular testosterone department during my trip to work.
My Stig like companion conveyed me with some aplomb around three laps of Silverstone’s racing circuit at considerable speed. We accelerated, up and down shifted, braked rigorously, met apexes, caressed curbs and surfed the Gs. I was, let me tell you, enjoying myself immensely. Various super cars were also enjoying some track time but the Ferraris, Aston Martins and Nissan GTRs were no match for my steed. Track etiquette also demanded those lesser vehicles got out of the way, which was no bad thing from my perspective.
The g-forces were interesting, at a few points I could feel my helmet being pulled up my face – it was good that the chin strap was firmly anchored because I envisaged the helmet coming off and bouncing down the track otherwise. When the g-force changed the helmet returned to its standard position. The movement was probably tiny, it just felt odd.
In the rear seat, I had to move my head left or right to see any more than the ‘A’ frame of the roll bar or the brightly coloured head gear of my pilot. I found that I was looking ahead to anticipate the next change in velocity or direction, I even started to get familiar with the circuit. I had time to concentrate because I wasn’t scared at all. Don’t get me wrong, it was still an adrenaline rush but there was no real risk – I was in the hands of a professional and completely safe.
A funny thing was that I could see myself in the car’s wing mirrors – and thanks to my clear visor, I could see the excitement in my own eyes (just in case I needed more proof that I was having a great time).
After what felt like much too short a time (well about five minutes actually), my initiation was over and it was time to let someone else warm seat number two. I maneuvered myself out of the car, shook Stig’s gauntlet, handed in my helmet and wandered, slightly dejectedly, off to the car park. It was a shame that it was all over but like an ending relationship it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
And love it I did. In fact, I want another go and at the current price of £59 for five minutes of pleasure, it’s not exactly unobtainable. Still that sounds like the kind of thing a gentlemen that visits ladies of the night might say, so I’ll stop now.
Going hypersonic made me smile so much that my face ached and on that basis I’d recommend the Hypersonic Experience to any thrill seeking petrolhead out there. In fact why not book your ticket right now? Here’s a link MIMO.
Back to Reviews and Recommendations Home
Home
I have a confession to make - I am an F1 fan and am delighted that the fast cars are back on the small screen. I have enjoyed watching the first couple of races from the 2012 Grand Prix season and today I got as close to having the experience of racing an F1 car as I am ever going to get. Would you like to know more? Read on if you are intrigued.
This afternoon saw me at Silverstone, my local friendly racing circuit; my visit purpose – to enjoy the Hypersonic Experience (which, you have to admit sounds damn cool, even if you don’t know what it is).
The Hypersonic Experience means having a most wonderful time as a passenger in a two seater racing car – and not just any fast car – a 3.7 litre V6 Ford Cyclone powered tandem ride designed and created by Fabrication Technique race engineers and weighing only 650kg. Other vital statistics include a six speed sequential racing gearbox, 340bhp per tonne, 0-60 in 3 seconds and a top speed of 150mph. Sometimes statistics really can sing to you.
This vehicular thoroughbred; gaudily attired and shod with some significant rubber looks so evolved as to be the spaceship to my trusty Skoda’s push bike. Still it would be difficult to pilot from Daventry to Milton Keynes on the daily commute down the A5.
The car looks like a single seat racing machine but there’s a second seat behind the driver for a passenger! This afternoon the second seat had the pleasure of getting acquainted with my posterior.
I arrived at Silverstone with my excitement levels building – it was cold but importantly dry – no reason then for the run to be cancelled. I signed in and waited expectantly for my go.
Once my turn came around, I was presented with a helmet and liner and, unexpectedly, knee pads. The elasticated knee pads, obviously deemed necessary by the instructors, did have the drawback of raising the level of my jeans by a couple of inches so that the hems hung above my shoes. The Homer Simpson socks and encased ankles were therefore exposed and, in the minutes before I could get in the car, my usually high standards of sartorial elegance were, if I am honest, a tad compromised.
Getting into the racing car was entertaining, I didn’t exactly need to be a contortionist but let’s just say that it was a good thing that I wasn’t more rotund or more elongated of form.
You lift your legs over the side pods and then you have to lower yourself into the cockpit and it’s a pretty snug fit! Essentially you sit a few inches off the track with your legs stretched out in front of you. Because of the fact that the driver is seated ahead of you; your legs end up running either side of him (and my chauffeur pretty much caught my ankle with every gear change – I didn’t care but it probably annoyed him).
Once ensconced, the instructors treat you to some five point harness bondage. And, when you are thoroughly trussed (it’s a good thing I don’t want anymore children), you are ready to begin your journey of F1esque discovery. And, let me extol, the wait was well worth it.
A short run out of the makeshift pit environment and the track beckoned. My chauffeur obligingly planted his size nine (or thereabouts) to the metal (well perhaps carbon fibre) and we were off, and I mean off like a shot. And can you guess? I found zero to sixty in three and a half seconds to be rather appealing. Let’s just say that on Monday the Fabia will feel distinctly lacking in the vehicular testosterone department during my trip to work.
My Stig like companion conveyed me with some aplomb around three laps of Silverstone’s racing circuit at considerable speed. We accelerated, up and down shifted, braked rigorously, met apexes, caressed curbs and surfed the Gs. I was, let me tell you, enjoying myself immensely. Various super cars were also enjoying some track time but the Ferraris, Aston Martins and Nissan GTRs were no match for my steed. Track etiquette also demanded those lesser vehicles got out of the way, which was no bad thing from my perspective.
The g-forces were interesting, at a few points I could feel my helmet being pulled up my face – it was good that the chin strap was firmly anchored because I envisaged the helmet coming off and bouncing down the track otherwise. When the g-force changed the helmet returned to its standard position. The movement was probably tiny, it just felt odd.
In the rear seat, I had to move my head left or right to see any more than the ‘A’ frame of the roll bar or the brightly coloured head gear of my pilot. I found that I was looking ahead to anticipate the next change in velocity or direction, I even started to get familiar with the circuit. I had time to concentrate because I wasn’t scared at all. Don’t get me wrong, it was still an adrenaline rush but there was no real risk – I was in the hands of a professional and completely safe.
A funny thing was that I could see myself in the car’s wing mirrors – and thanks to my clear visor, I could see the excitement in my own eyes (just in case I needed more proof that I was having a great time).
After what felt like much too short a time (well about five minutes actually), my initiation was over and it was time to let someone else warm seat number two. I maneuvered myself out of the car, shook Stig’s gauntlet, handed in my helmet and wandered, slightly dejectedly, off to the car park. It was a shame that it was all over but like an ending relationship it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
And love it I did. In fact, I want another go and at the current price of £59 for five minutes of pleasure, it’s not exactly unobtainable. Still that sounds like the kind of thing a gentlemen that visits ladies of the night might say, so I’ll stop now.
Going hypersonic made me smile so much that my face ached and on that basis I’d recommend the Hypersonic Experience to any thrill seeking petrolhead out there. In fact why not book your ticket right now? Here’s a link MIMO.
Back to Reviews and Recommendations Home
Home
|
|
