“It’s okay,” I thought “it’s only twenty quid.”
What a twonk.
Yes, it was “only” twenty quid to have a go in HERO’s 1971 Alfa Romeo 1750 GTV and their 1964 Mini Cooper S at Race Retro. That’s pretty good value really, even if you do only get a short go in each car. Where else can you get a go in a classic rally car – or indeed, a classic car of any sort – for a tenner apiece?
What that twenty quid doesn’t tell you is what happens when you’ve had a go behind the wheel of two iconic classics.
Since the stupid £20 note won’t tell you, I’ll tell you instead.
You start wanting one, that’s what bloody happens. You spend an insignificant twenty notes on a couple of minutes of driving, and you step out of the car wanting one of the sodding things. So that twenty quid could very easily turn into a few hundred more quid to get an extended go.
Or maybe a few thousand, when you fancy having more than just an extended go and want one on your driveway. Which is the situation in which I find myself at the moment.
I’ll start with the Alfa, as thankfully old GTVs are well beyond my price range and as such, the prospect of putting one on the driveway cannot be accidentally achieved should an opportunity present itself.
The Alfa looked gorgeous, and started the day as the car I most wanted to drive. I had to wait a while as it seemed to be a popular choice, but once ensconced it proved snug, and any thoughts I may have had on the driving position have escaped me – which on the plus side, means it must have been good enough.
I do remember the clutch being chuffing heavy though, but once on the move the paucity of gear-changes meant it wasn’t an issue, and the shift itself was suitably slick, as I’d been led to believe.
I’d also been led to believe the GTV was a relatively delicate thing to drive. That might be the case with narrow tyres and a large, thin, wood-rimmed steering wheel, but equipped with fat tyres and the steering wheel off a go-kart the first corner felt like an arm-wrestle with Mariusz Pudzianowski.
The chicane was a workout too, as the tiny rim conspired with a slow rack to make it an arm-flailing scramble from left to right. A hairpin offered the opportunity of some tail-out action and I duly obliged, but the resulting dab of oppo turned into more of a bludgeon of correction. Frankly, I was relieved when I made it to the end of the stage, but the grin on my face told the story – rarely have I had so much fun with such a recalcitrant object.
Truth be told, it felt a little disappointing, but not in isolation, since my run in the Alfa had taken place after my run in the Mini.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Mini either. At a standstill, the steering also felt heavy, again due to the tiny steering wheel. The driving position was comical, and the clutch pedal had the same angle and feel of an old foot-pump for inflating tyres.
I’d also made the mistake of getting in, adjusting my seat, tightening the belts, and then being unable to get anywhere near the ignition key, about a foot from my fingertips. Luckily, my co-driver from HERO did the honours. The engine fired instantly and settled into a lumpy idle, awakened by the odd blip on the throttle.
Lined up on the start, I was determined to make a cleaner getaway than the other drivers had, their starts a flurry of wheel spin and tyre smoke but little forward progress.
The on/off clutch had other ideas and I launched away with the front tyres scrabbling at the dusty concrete. The car immediately felt alive and the previously heavy clutch suddenly became ideal for a quick change to second.
With barely a sniff of lock the nose scurried around the first cone hairpin and then darted left, right and left again through the chicane. Each “stop adjacent to the cones” section required a hefty shove on the middle pedal and the occasional screech as the fronts locked up, before another smokey getaway beckoned.
I’d be surprised if I hit more than 30mph the whole time, but the experience felt more like a run over the Col du Turini. On my card, the lady from HERO wrote my time. 59 seconds. Was it good or bad?
Average, as it turns out. A sneaky peek at other drivers’ times revealed a few around the 54 second mark, and a few over a minute.
My racing driver excuse is that on the laminated card I’d been handed before the run, it read “Please treat the car as if it was your own”.
I’m a fairly careful chap normally so I’d not over-driven it, but some of the cars I encountered on the drive home revealed that it was certainly possible to drive the Mini quicker if you drove it like your diesel Citroën Picasso or Audi A4.
That it was seen with the bonnet up after a few more people had driven it suggests it was driven a little harder than the other vehicles, and it’s also my racing driver excuse for not snapping any photos. Anyway, I’ll remember for next time.
Damn! There it is again – I’m already planning to spend more money. With a Beetle in bits in the garage the last thing I need is another classic, but the draw of a Mini is strong.
Twenty quid? My backside.
Words and Photos // Antony Ingram
