For me Goodwood is a highlight of the motoring calendar. In fact I'm going to say that these events are more exciting, for me, than Le Mans. High praise indeed. And enough to have me up at 5am on a Saturday and trackside at 7am, sipping coffee and listening to the event commentators talking about huge queues to get in. Here's why it was worth the early start...
Scream if you want to go- oh, you already are
On Saturday I endured a tractor ride to the rally stage so dusty I may as well have chugged a packet of Marlboro reds. There I joined
Mikko Hirvonen
, beside whom I'd be getting a flying lap of the Goodwood rally stage in a Citroen DS3 WRC.
As Mikko is swamped by eager fans wanting photos and autographs I struggle to get my sweaty self into some racing overalls. As Mikko goes out for a sighting lap I try to look pro in my team overalls. The giveaway I'm not being the brown loafers on my feet.
I'm then installed in the car and the harnesses yanked tight. Or so I think until a chap further 'adjusts' them to the point I'm almost winded! Seeing my face change he says "you need this if you hit a tree at 100mph." Er, thanks.
Intercoms on, Mikko and I share pleasantries. He loves Goodwood and relishes this track. "I won't go too hard as I don't want to crash, but we'll do our best." By now I am wondering why everyone keeps mentioning crashing.
From the rally stage to the hill with two legends
Jumping the queue - "Because we are a WRC car we get priority" - is a relief, given that the interior of the Citroen is a proper furnace. Time card handed in Mikko looks across and says "get ready." I hang on. Three, two, one ... head slams the seat, nonchalant hand on the roll cage becomes two. Bang, bang, bang through the gears. Sideways for a corner I can't see yet. Gravel noise, gearbox noise, engine noise and I can hear my idiotic giggles through the intercom, as can Mikko which is a bit embarrassing.
Focus Paul, focus! Look at the crowds, watch his movements, take in the track I tell myself but I'm being pummelled by G-forces and all I can do is hang on. A moment's silence as we get some air before crashing down and immediately going into a drift. A blur of corners and violence later and we're done. Two minutes and 43 seconds is all it takes. I say well done with some applause and he just shrugs. "It was OK, a bit slow. The car is powerful, but the torque is not so good. That's why I had to use the handbrake often to drift the car and keep the power on."
Ragnotti loves goofing about, on track and off
Fine by me Mikko, fine by me! A ride I will never forget, and I walk away from the rally stage dishevelled with a soaking wet shirt and helmet hair.
The following day and Goodwood at midday feels as hot as Nevada. I'm in the F1 pit looking for Jean Ragnotti and the Renault Twin'Run concept car, a 320hp, mid-engined V6 with sequential gearbox, full race interior and, as Jean tells me, non-race tyres.
Jean is a gentleman, charming and friendly despite the language barrier and he treats me like an old mate with handshakes and lots and lots of banter. First thing he tells me is that the clerk of the course has forbidden him from performing his trademark pirouettes. He is insistent that I don't call it a doughnut as he keeps the car moving, in fourth gear, rather than stopping. But he's taken the stern talking to seriously. I'm disappointed, as is he, but rules is rules.
Ragnotti and Garlick compare timepieces
Delays mean we end up loitering in the paddock for a couple of hours, Jean entertaining me by wearing my helmet back to front, heading off to find a watch 'just like mine' and, when the mood was a little quiet, hitting himself in the face with a rope! He's mad, in a good way, and always had time for the hordes of fans.
Finally we are in the car, and Jean fires the V6. F*** ME! He flat revs it for the crowd and my ears bleed, merging nicely with the sweat dripping from every pore. And I thought the WRC car was hot.
En route to the startline we're thrown back with some fairly jerky acceleration. "Sorry," says Jean, "the throttle is ... how you say ... rather sensitive." Noise is coming at me from all angles, violent noise, and the crowd hears us coming from a mile off. While other drivers are three-point turning to face the startline Jean simply boots it round on the throttle and grins.
Jacky Ickx - ice cool even in 30-degree heat
Launching of the line Jean saws at the wheel going flat-chat rather than showboating. He knows the crowd expect and he is hanging onto the grass, using all of the track and getting us perilously close to the walls. As we go hard across the finish line the car ahead is going much slower and I wonder if he can see it. Of course he does, he just likes to brake late, really late! A shake of the hand later I mutter thanks he doesn't understand. Instead he pats my shoulder. "Let's go and get a drink," he says, before leading me to the Drivers' Bar at the top of the hill. Mingling with Derek Bell, Jacky Ickx and Rene Arnoux he introduces me as his co-driver as I offer to get him a drink. He wants a Fanta, which sounds much cooler in a French accent. Outside I stand and watch the other cars arrive. Jean appears with Ickx and introduces me as his friend. I'm pretty blown away to be honest.
Back in the car and we decide to leave our helmets off for the descent. If I thought the car was loud with a lid on it's obscene without. I try to savour the moment as we head down the track - Jean's friendliness has been humbling, the car an assault on the senses and unbelievably exhilarating. I walk away from the pits almost four hours after I arrived and find a tree to sit under for a few moments of reflection.
Thanks to both Citroen and Renault for being so generous over the weekend. And huge, heartfelt thanks to Mikko and Jean for being such legends.