Race tracks have an aura about
themselves. There are not merely random asphalt spaghetti laid down between
patches of field and grass. But rather, they string together a heightened sense
of danger and anticipation that no other normal road can. As you approach a
race track, you become aware of the clings of automotive wrenches and hushed
tones. Somewhere in the distance you can hear a distinctive growl of a
combustion engine only to be followed by squealing wail of tires through the
crisp fuel filled air. The trees rustle innocuously as men amble towards their
machines. All, a mere precursor of the tire shredding that is about to follow.
themselves. There are not merely random asphalt spaghetti laid down between
patches of field and grass. But rather, they string together a heightened sense
of danger and anticipation that no other normal road can. As you approach a
race track, you become aware of the clings of automotive wrenches and hushed
tones. Somewhere in the distance you can hear a distinctive growl of a
combustion engine only to be followed by squealing wail of tires through the
crisp fuel filled air. The trees rustle innocuously as men amble towards their
machines. All, a mere precursor of the tire shredding that is about to follow.
 |
| The Nordschleife |
Some tracks have far more mystique
than others. These are usually the ones with fascinating histories. There are
tragic events, fatal even, that define the character of the race tracks, and
the drivers that push themselves on it. Others follow the topography of the
land that they are based in and highlight the character of the land. But then,
there are some that lay etched in history of racing forever, as legends, never
to be forgotten.
than others. These are usually the ones with fascinating histories. There are
tragic events, fatal even, that define the character of the race tracks, and
the drivers that push themselves on it. Others follow the topography of the
land that they are based in and highlight the character of the land. But then,
there are some that lay etched in history of racing forever, as legends, never
to be forgotten.
One such magical race track lies
draped around the village of Nuerburg, Germany. Built back in the 1920, it had
the definite purpose of showing German Automotive and racing skills. Over the
years, much has changed, including the layout. Today, the “Nordschleife layout”
remains steadfast in the menacing middle mountains of Germany. Unchallenged
over 22 odd kilometers and over 170 turns, it is perhaps the most daunting of
them all. Labeled as the “green hell” by Sir Jackie Stewart and consisting of a
left turn called “Lauda Links” mere because it consumed his ear in a fiery
crash, the track had attracted all of me ever since I first read about it.
draped around the village of Nuerburg, Germany. Built back in the 1920, it had
the definite purpose of showing German Automotive and racing skills. Over the
years, much has changed, including the layout. Today, the “Nordschleife layout”
remains steadfast in the menacing middle mountains of Germany. Unchallenged
over 22 odd kilometers and over 170 turns, it is perhaps the most daunting of
them all. Labeled as the “green hell” by Sir Jackie Stewart and consisting of a
left turn called “Lauda Links” mere because it consumed his ear in a fiery
crash, the track had attracted all of me ever since I first read about it.
To get over my fear, attraction and
combined lust for all things terrifying, I decided it was best I try out myself
what it feels to drive a car on this track as fast as I could possibly dare.
With a fellow minded nut, I rented a race car with just enough power to ensure
that I can get killed if I went berserk but allowed me to have a blast if I decided
to pay heed to stormy winds. The car was equipped with the necessary race grade
brakes and tires, a roll cage to remind us of impending thrill and we ourselves
wore helmets to add some sincerity to the event.
combined lust for all things terrifying, I decided it was best I try out myself
what it feels to drive a car on this track as fast as I could possibly dare.
With a fellow minded nut, I rented a race car with just enough power to ensure
that I can get killed if I went berserk but allowed me to have a blast if I decided
to pay heed to stormy winds. The car was equipped with the necessary race grade
brakes and tires, a roll cage to remind us of impending thrill and we ourselves
wore helmets to add some sincerity to the event.
Of course, before I even got close to
track, I had known enough about it to respect it. I had, then, in the weeks
before spent time looking at countless videos and reading expert reviews on
which lines should be taken. But quickly I realized that the information had a
common string. That one must drive at least 100 times to even have a slight
clue of what is coming next and then even after such false confidences, almost
every turn is blind and is eagerly awaiting your broken metal parts, if not
your soul. However, when such dangers are clearly listed, it makes the task at
hand easier to accept.
track, I had known enough about it to respect it. I had, then, in the weeks
before spent time looking at countless videos and reading expert reviews on
which lines should be taken. But quickly I realized that the information had a
common string. That one must drive at least 100 times to even have a slight
clue of what is coming next and then even after such false confidences, almost
every turn is blind and is eagerly awaiting your broken metal parts, if not
your soul. However, when such dangers are clearly listed, it makes the task at
hand easier to accept.
I approached the track with
anticipation and fear but largely excitement. I was about to drive on an
historic race track, that before me, had humbled the best in the business.
anticipation and fear but largely excitement. I was about to drive on an
historic race track, that before me, had humbled the best in the business.
The first lap was the lap of awe. My
heart raced as I hurled up and down through some incredible elevation changes.
I negotiated each blind corner with a very small resemblance to the racing
line. I constantly feared what would come flashing across and I promptly forgotten
all the research I had done until that point. As the track laced around the
forests and the dense greenery, every nickname given to this track began to
make perfect sense. However, it wasn’t the green hell but rather the green stairway
to automotive heaven. The lap also felt endless. I saw the mile markers count
up but driving 22kms at the limit is an exhilarating and exhausting experience.
Inside my helmet, my mind raced, my eyes focused and my mouth dried out. Coming
across the start finish line after about 10 minutes, I exhaled silently.
heart raced as I hurled up and down through some incredible elevation changes.
I negotiated each blind corner with a very small resemblance to the racing
line. I constantly feared what would come flashing across and I promptly forgotten
all the research I had done until that point. As the track laced around the
forests and the dense greenery, every nickname given to this track began to
make perfect sense. However, it wasn’t the green hell but rather the green stairway
to automotive heaven. The lap also felt endless. I saw the mile markers count
up but driving 22kms at the limit is an exhilarating and exhausting experience.
Inside my helmet, my mind raced, my eyes focused and my mouth dried out. Coming
across the start finish line after about 10 minutes, I exhaled silently.
 |
| The Karussel |
The second lap, my courage had found
its way back through a narrow slit. I trusted the cars electronic aids to allow
me to act stupider as I pushed on a tad more. This time I focused on
remembering the corner names and even managed to find the racing line
occasionally. There was of course the world famous “Carousel” that I went jumpily
on. I preserved my ear through the “Lauda Links”. I let the car sit and drive
out of the “fuchsroehre” and I promptly missed the apex on the notoriously
blind chicane of “Adenauer Forst”. By the time I got to the “hoheacht” I had
climbed about a 1000 feet in 13 odd kms to the highest point of the race track
only to come back barreling down again. One race track had multiple
personalities. From the slower blind chicanes to the extremely fast straights
with dangerous kinks, it had every thrill that a driver would want and perhaps
too much of it. I managed to shave off 47 seconds from my previous time yet
that meant nothing in terms of an objective measurement of the fun I was
having.
its way back through a narrow slit. I trusted the cars electronic aids to allow
me to act stupider as I pushed on a tad more. This time I focused on
remembering the corner names and even managed to find the racing line
occasionally. There was of course the world famous “Carousel” that I went jumpily
on. I preserved my ear through the “Lauda Links”. I let the car sit and drive
out of the “fuchsroehre” and I promptly missed the apex on the notoriously
blind chicane of “Adenauer Forst”. By the time I got to the “hoheacht” I had
climbed about a 1000 feet in 13 odd kms to the highest point of the race track
only to come back barreling down again. One race track had multiple
personalities. From the slower blind chicanes to the extremely fast straights
with dangerous kinks, it had every thrill that a driver would want and perhaps
too much of it. I managed to shave off 47 seconds from my previous time yet
that meant nothing in terms of an objective measurement of the fun I was
having.
The third lap though was a stark
reminder of dangerous realities. The truth is that driving fast of this track
during an open public access day without instruction, know-how and oodles of
patience is a fool-proof recipe for disaster. I witnessed Supercars blasting by
on the straights alongside smaller sedans on pleasure cruises. Motorcycles
whizzed past cars on the same track and the entire spectrum of driver skill was
on display through varying machinery. Predictably, I witnessed a few sobering
crashes and a track closure for 15 minutes. Enough for me to call it quits and
consider myself lucky that we had managed to drive over 60km each on a race
track and drive home unscathed with a bagful of delightful memories.
reminder of dangerous realities. The truth is that driving fast of this track
during an open public access day without instruction, know-how and oodles of
patience is a fool-proof recipe for disaster. I witnessed Supercars blasting by
on the straights alongside smaller sedans on pleasure cruises. Motorcycles
whizzed past cars on the same track and the entire spectrum of driver skill was
on display through varying machinery. Predictably, I witnessed a few sobering
crashes and a track closure for 15 minutes. Enough for me to call it quits and
consider myself lucky that we had managed to drive over 60km each on a race
track and drive home unscathed with a bagful of delightful memories.
 |
| A corner to remember |
It is a resume of sorts. These experiences
that I am having, in this third land of mine and this Old world of ours, are
contributing to an enrichment I hadn’t envisioned. I am forever grateful for a list
of firsts that are slowly filling up the bookshelf of my mind. The fact that
this one was a four wheeled on just makes it that much more special, and
likely, unforgettable.
that I am having, in this third land of mine and this Old world of ours, are
contributing to an enrichment I hadn’t envisioned. I am forever grateful for a list
of firsts that are slowly filling up the bookshelf of my mind. The fact that
this one was a four wheeled on just makes it that much more special, and
likely, unforgettable.
