UAE GT Championship. Round 6. Drivers Diary

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It’s particularly satisfying to note that both Paul and I seem to have developed in parallel as drivers this season, investing time to learn more about our cars and our technical skills, rather than just jumping into the driver’s seat and hoping for the best. We’re both in a transition period, trying to make the jump from enthusiastic amateur to, well, something else. It seems to be working – what little time we get to focus on our motorsport education we’ve converted into results that put us at the top of the table, particularly in Paul’s case.

nfortunately every time I watch a world-class driver like Sean at work, I realise I’m never really going to make it. To truly succeed, you need an understanding employer, lots of seat time, copious amounts of cold towels on head to analyse the data, hours of setup work, bundles of cash, and an unfeasible amount of genuine talent. Looks like I strike out on all counts. Stick to the day job, Harris.

OK, now focus. Race face on. Strap in.

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Paul and I line up on the grid side by side, with Paul’s pole position putting him on the inside line. That’s fine with me – I prefer to tread the extra rubber laid down on the racing line going into turn 1. I glance across to see if I can catch his eye but he’s well and truly in the zone. My stomach is churning as we wait on the grid for the 5 second board, and my mouth goes dry. Damn, why am I not able to control this feeling? A quick prayer and an obsessive compulsive check of the extinguisher toggle switch, and we’re off on our warm up lap.

Past turn 15, the safety car peels in to the pits as we roll in a gurgling, spluttering, slow-motion convoy onto the main straight. Anxiously tighten tensile grip on my steering wheel. Not too tight, Harris, stay loose, be cool. All eyes up to the gantry, second gear, stick to the bumper of the GTA Porsche Cup car in front, wait for it, wait, wait, BANG! The lights go out and 28 rear wheels light up in unison.

YEAH!

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If right now I could punch the air for the sheer joy of living, I would.

Nervous anticipation that makes you physically ill disappears with that first healing slug of joyous acceleration that punches your body back and unleashes the primeval spirit within. There’s no high quite like it: the intense class A adrenaline rush into the first crowded corner; the cacophonous riot of sound, colour, smell and intense suffocating heat. Hell, I even love the heat and the sweat it generates. Racing sweat. Life-reaffirming man sweat. I am alive again.

The outside world doesn’t get it. Unless it’s taken the most powerful mind-bending drugs, it cannot even begin to comprehend the sheer addictive ecstatic thrill of wheel to wheel motor racing. You’re either a racer or you’re not. Racing is life – everything else is just waiting.

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My start is perfect. For a split second I almost feel I can squeeze round the outside of the 997 Cup in front, but once the Cup gets its power down, I’m happy enough to be leading the GTB pack into turn 1. Paul’s GT3 is a predatory orange presence in my rear quarter window on the inside line, and I opt for a slightly wider line into turn 1 to avoid a coming together. As the old saying goes, “to finish first, first you have to finish.”

There’s another predatory orange presence bearing down on my rear left hand side: it’s GTA Championship leader Karim Al Azhari in his monstrous Callaway Corvette, relegated to last place on the grid due to a technical infringement in qualifying. I’m somewhat surprised that it took him this long to catch me, but then I recall that he has been specifically instructed by He Who Must Be Obeyed (Fraser Martin, the Clerk of the Course and our safety car driver) that he is not to overtake any car until he passes the gantry (as opposed to when the lights change). Before the race started he gave me a friendly reminder that he would be on a charge and that I should keep an eye out. Gulp!