Autocar India's Editor Hormazd Sorabjee: What a feeling! Nothing can prepare you for the exhilaration of piloting an F1 car

SELECTION ROCK ON THE ROAD

I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Here I was strapped tightly into a full-blown Formula One car ready for the most exhilarating driving experience of my life. It all happened so fast and thanks to a giant bug for speed that wormed its way into the pants of my old friend, Gautam Singhania, better known to the world as the Chairman and Managing Director of Raymond. Gautam's driven some of the world's fastest road cars but wants more. There was only one thing left, the final frontier of a Formula One car.

Wildside Adrenalin Sports, based in Britain, offers you the ultimate driving thrill of driving a real, honest-to-God Formula One car (See The Ultimate Driving Experience) and if you have the cash and the guts, it will give you a glimpse of the elite world Schumacher and Co. belong to. Gautam was their first customer from India (and probably their best ever) and booked 110 laps in an F1 car with the idea of splitting some with me. "I don't want to enjoy this alone so why don't you come with me," he offered. It didn't take much to convince me and my next call was to my travel agent.

The plan was to fly to Paris and drive three hours south to the Lucy Lervis circuit where Wildside had set up this drive programme. Our group of seven consisted of people from different backgrounds and different countries, the only thing common was this mad desire to drive an F1 car.

There was no need to bring any driving gear, just your licence. At the track, there's a big wardrobe of overalls and boots and a rack with different sized helmets. You can find the size that fits you best and this is important because the last thing you want is to be uncomfortable from an ill-fitting suit or helmet.

Stephane Auger, our very French instructor, gives us our briefing for the day. He explains the circuit design, the braking points (which he warns are not to be violated) and the starting procedure for the car, which didn't seem as simple as driving off in a Santro. After the briefing, Stephane drove us around the circuit in a Fiat Multipla, showing us the correct lines. "Watch out for that bump," he warned. What bump? "You'll find out when in an F1 car."

Two Larrouse LH 94s powered by 700bhp, 3.5-litre Cosworth V8 engines were ready. These cars competed in the 1994 Formula One world championship, alongside Schumacher who won his first world championship that year.

Raymond's CMD Gautam Singhania: Speed freak Singhania wanted more than just the fastest road cars

First out on the track is Gautam, in the red Larrouse. Ten laps later he's back and the expression on his face says everything: "You cannot believe the power it has. It's just unbelievable!" I can't wait but I have to. The others go before me, which gives me time to closely watch how quickly these cars accelerate down the straight and chew on some of the statistics Stephane has fed us. The Larrouse is geared to accelerate from 0-100 kph in 2.4 seconds and to 200 kph in 4.9 seconds. Top speed is 320 kph in sixth gear whilst the max speeds in first, second, third, fourth and fifth are 120, 160, 200, 240 and 280 kph respectively. "If you exit the corner before the straight quickly, you should hit 300 kph down the straight before the braking zone," says Stephane.

My big moment soon arrived and with it a sudden rush of nervousness. What was worrying me was that there were no introductory laps in a quick car to get familiarised with the circuit. No chance to prepare yourself for the occasion. I was hoping for a few laps in a quick road car just to dust the cobwebs off my reflexes and lessen the impending assault on my senses.

The last thing I drove before boarding the flight to Paris was a Zen! Now here I am, about to get into a car that has 12 times more power, and weighs 200 kg less! Will I cope? It's too late to think about all that as I slip into the Larrouse. The cockpit is not as claustrophobic as I imagined with plenty of room for my 44-inch backside. You sit nice and high with just a tiny aeroscreen to steer the turbulence up and out of the way. The tight squeeze is the area around the thighs where there's a thick carbon fibre arch with a very narrow opening.

I stretch my legs out in a half-sleeping position to feel the pedals that are very closely placed in the tiny pedal box. Anyone with feet larger than size 10 is going to have a problem.

The mechanics strap me in with a six-point harness that is pulled so tight that it's hard to breathe. The 'half' steering wheel is then clicked on and it sits pretty close to me. Just as well because the steering is extremely heavy and you need good leverage to turn it. The gearshift paddles sit behind the wheel, the right one to shift up and the left to change down. I try and remember not to mix that up. There's a red button on the centre boss that selects first gear or neutral and most important is the ignition switch, which is tucked away on the right of the 'dashboard'.

The rear wheels are jacked up, ignition switch flicked on. A compressed air gun turns the engine and the Cosworth V8 explodes into life directly behind my ears. The car is dropped off the jacks and Stephane gives me the signal to select first gear. The clutch pedal is incredibly heavy and needs considerable force to depress. Stephane raises his hand, which means increase revs. So I push the right pedal gently, my heartbeat rising along with the crescendo from the eight cylinders firing in perfect unison. I gently release the clutch and... stall! Not a great way to start, but predictable enough.

We have to start the whole procedure again, but at least I've got a taste for the snappy clutch that has no more than an inch of travel. Second time round, I let the clutch in a bit more slowly. There's a sickening jolt, but the engine keeps running and I bunny hop out of the pits. I can't believe I'm actually driving an F1 car. I feel like I'm dreaming but with my eyes wide open.

Thank God, I won't need the clutch anymore. F1 cars use automatic gearboxes and the clutch is used only at the start. Shifting gears by operating the paddles behind the steering is easy to get used to. All you need to do is lift your foot off the throttle pedal to shift up or down.

It's only when I am onto a straight part of the track that I dare put any pressure on the throttle. Even a gentle squeeze elicits a disproportionate increase in speed. Floor the throttle and the reaction is more violent than I'd expected. So violent that I instinctively lift off the throttle pedal and pull the right hand paddle to shift up into the next gear. The acceleration was terrifying in any gear and I needed to look at the led display above the steering wheel to know the gear I was in. The easiest part was the gearshift. You could change up or down with just one finger, the shift engaging ever so smoothly, you feel you're operating a PlayStation wheel.

The bump Stephane pointed out on the circuit, which felt like a pimple in a road car felt like a massive speed-breaker in the Larrouse. With virtually no suspension travel to speak of, my feet flew off the pedals every time I hit that bump. The carbon fibre body felt so incredibly stiff and transmitted every bit of the road back to the fingertips.

With my first 10 laps behind, it was difficult not to get overwhelmed. There's so much happening so fast that your brain can't take it all in. My eyes constantly glued to the road meant that I only took a cursory glance at the LCD tachometer. Back in the pits after my first stint, I wondered why the tacho hardly registered. "You've got to rev beyond 6,000 RPMs to get it to work," I was told!

With the fear of the unknown now gone, I was looking forward to my second stint. And yes, this time I was determined to make that tacho work all the way to the redline! I picked the red Larrouse that had an easier clutch and thankfully didn't stall it. Out of the last corner on the straight, I floored my right foot and held it there. It was then that I discovered the true acceleration these cars are capable of.

The briefing: Don't bang the car was the bottomline of the compulsory briefing before the F1 drive

Past 9,000 RPM, the Cosworth explodes and rockets you forward as if you're strapped onto a surface-to-surface missile. Third, fourth, fifth at 13,500 rpm down the straight, the acceleration literally winds you. The sound of the screaming Cosworth is absolutely glorious. I'm nudging 280 kph and it is difficult to keep my head straight. The combination of the ferocious acceleration, buffeting from the turbulence and the bumps in the track, blur my vision. I am hurtling to the next bend at frightening speed. Panic. I stomp hard on the brakes and I can feel my eyeballs getting pulled out of their sockets. My head flops forward, chin meeting chest, and all I can see are my knees. And guess what? The corner still hasn't arrived. In fact, I have to accelerate up to it! I could never ever come to terms with the mind-blowing brakes, and however hard or late I tried to brake, it was always embarrassingly early. Through the corners, the lateral g-force also took its toll on my neck and I found it difficult to keep my head propped up in the faster corners. In fact, it's your neck that takes the maximum pounding with the sheer ferocity of accelerative forces it is subjected to.

My second stint was a 20-lapper and by the end of it, I was panting so hard that my visor began to mist up. These cars are unbelievably demanding. The speeds are phenomenal and the forces your body is subjected to leave you completely drained. Dizzy with excitement, I staggered out of the cockpit but after a cold Coke and 20 minutes to get my breath back, I was ready to get back in again. I did two more stints of 10 laps each and it was amazing how each time round, I gained confidence and actually began enjoying the experience.

The frustration is knowing how much more the car is capable of and that you can't come anywhere close to its limits. By the end of the day, I reckon I must have got to around 50 per cent of the car's capability. Part of the reason I couldn't push further was because I just wasn't fit enough. The morning after, every muscle in my body hurt. My neck felt like it was on fire, my chest sore from the strain of pushing against the harness straps, and my triceps ached thanks to the heavy steering.

My respect for any Formula One driver went up a hundred-fold after that day-they are all Gods out there. You too can play God for a day if you have a lakh of rupees to spend. Believe me, its worth every rupee and if you're an F1 fanatic, this is the closest you'll get to heaven without killing yourself. The sad part is that everything else I drive from now on will always seem a step down!