I don't scare easily in a car. Which is, of course, an important part of being able to drive quickly. Stop too long to ponder what could happen and you'll be reduced to trundling, windscreen licking wreck.
I should qualify that. I don't scare easily in a car in a setting where the risk is entirely my own. Whatever you're driving if you're going quickly enough to frighten yourself on the road you've got bigger issues regarding your social responsibilities.
That important distinction made I'm talking about the ability to compartmentalise fear. Anyone who's participated in a gravity sport will relate to this; with experience you can rationalise and/or deny the sense of peril and simply savour the rush of conquering it. Likewise there's the appreciation of how fear can be self perpetuating, tension increasing the likelihood of it going horribly wrong.
Obviously there's a balance to strike. Complete, gung-ho denial can be admirable, likewise the 'beginner's pluck' of those who don't know yet know any better. Luck is a finite resource though.
Hang on Dan, thought you said you didn't scare?
With the honourable exception of that
snappy, malevolent 991 GT3
that tried, repeatedly, to kill me on its Cup tyres and a sodden Silverstone Grand Prix circuit, wet track days are a good example. I'll share the collective dread in the briefing if there are puddles in the pitlane. But out on track I've often found myself having more fun than on dry days, the extra focus required enhancing the buzz. In the cold light of day I don't want to think what losing a fifth-gear drift in a Caterham and hitting the Armco would feel like. But it's only by setting that thought aside you stand a chance of dealing with it and preventing the nightmare becoming a reality.
I'll be honest though. Rallying that Defender scared the crap out of me. And for prolonged periods I felt a most unnatural sensation of simply backing off out of fear of what might happen. I just couldn't take my eyes off the trees, rocks, drops and other perils beside the track. I choked.
I think this is the difference between rallying and circuit driving. On a track there are, relatively speaking, periods of mental 'down time' between the bits that demand your full attention. It's a bit like an electric car's regenerative charging, just for your brain instead. What I learned in that Defender is that on a rally stage you have no such luxury. You have to be on it 150 per cent all the time. Only then will you be able to look beyond what's waiting for you if you get it wrong. This in a Land Rover with a 170hp diesel engine too. What must it be like in a proper rally car capable of covering the same terrain at twice the speed?
I already knew rally drivers were mentalists and a complete lack of imagination is a prerequisite. And I can watch onboards with known 'if in doubt, flat out' lunatics like McRae, Kubica and that Kiwi chap in his old Escort on endless repeat and never get bored. I love the ruthless, combative aspect of circuit racing. But get properly transfixed purely by the driving in rally cars. The motor skills required to do it I can just about comprehend. But the mental strength to carry it off? That's something else entirely. Respect! And as for the co-drivers...
Oh dear god
Scaring spectators
Kubica after dark
[Sources: humebob, LKMedia59 and stiepek89 all via YouTube]