Skoda Rally Blog

At certain points in everyone’s life, there are disappointments. Be they moments where you realise that someone you’re in love with is sleeping with the postman, that you’re not going to walk on the moon or be a film star, or whatever. No matter how ludicrous the idea, it can come as a shock.

Yesterday saw us entering Newton Abbott Audi stages – our first forest event. It was only short – 25 stage miles and 17 road miles – far less than the 100 mile drive to get there. Due to the reverse seeding, we were second car on the road, following a Skoda Felicia (which was a late entry – otherwise it would have been behind us), and were due at 10:01. The stages looked pretty smooth, but it was raining heavily – a really grey, horrible chilly day, with vans getting stuck on the grass in the “service area” and all sorts of amusing shenanigans. Still, if you don’t bring a van, it can’t get stuck, can it?

It was scary. Very scary. And that was before the stage had started. And then it did start. Up a hill, and round the first bend. The first impression I got was that I had no grip or control whatsoever. I’ve driven on gravel a fair bit (mainly when I was younger, being silly), and I certainly wouldn’t say I was an expert, but I have some skill at controlling a car on such a surface. Or at least I thought so. However, the slow, snaking evidence of this stage would clearly indicate that either I lost whatever skill I did have, or I was delusional. I’m sure it looked pathetic from the outside, but it was terrifyingly poor from the inside. The car would lurch about all over the place, even in a straight line. Corners were hard work, and getting the power on to pull the car round the corner didn’t always seem to work – the car would dig in or slide and I’d have no idea what was going to happen next at any point. About three-quarters through the stage we got caught by two following cars (together), and I moved over to let them by, and found it difficult to get back onto the line. We pootled to the end of the stage, and registered and embarrassingly slow time.

Stage 2 was stage one run in reverse. Tried to do better, but about 1/3 of the way through re-entered the forest with a 45 left-hander. No grip at all. The back went, so I tried to correct it, and the car slewed side to side several times. And then just sideways, just like you see on the TV from the in-car. The car bumped up a couple of times as it hit things, and I thought it was going to get messy as we were now bumping into where there were cut-off tree-stumps. I saw one come perilously close as we drew to a stop, and the car angled up as it hit whatever it did. For a moment I thought we were going to go over, but we just settled back down onto all four wheels. I started it up again, but we were stuck fast. Kev seemed surprised when I told him he’d have to get out and push, but he did it and managed to almost lift the car out of the ditch on his own (with help from the engine, but you know what I mean). He dived back in, and we got going again, albeit very slowly. The rest of the stage was a panicked blur, although the car seemed fine. Unlike the contents.

Stages 3 & 4 were short one-mile sprints through a new spectator area, which was less treacherous than the other stages, but still slippy. But my confidence in my driving ability had totally gone by this point, and I really wasn’t looking forward to it. And having lots of people there probably didn’t help much either. We set slow times on both passes, and headed off for ‘service’, which involved some sandwiches – the car needed little doing to it, apart from a bit less pressure in the tyres and some fuel.

Stages 5 & 6 were back where 1 & 2 had been, with some alterations; the first bit went reasonably well but slowly, but the new section featured a narrow track with a small edge and then a very steep drop-off with trees growing on it. It looked like one error would cause a real problem (involving testing out the strength of the rollcage and an ambulance), and when the car slipped sideways at one point I really felt like I’d had enough.

The waiting area looked like one of the forests on endor, and was boggy enough to lose a foot in. Getting away from the like for SS6 was hard work as the mud was very deep, and the car just slewed sideways. Things got a bit better on this stage, but the car was still slipping all over the place, and there was a huge bump near the big drop-off. We were just limping about rather than driving at any kind of speed, and I’m sure most people’s grans could drive faster and better.

SS7 and 8 were back where 3 & 4 had been, but with some extra length added (where the waiting area had been before), and were run in reverse to 3 & 4 which was good, as the nasty log area which had been at the end was out the way early. There were some good sections where the spectators were, and I managed to get out of jail on one slippy corner by really nailing the throttle to pull the car round. Second time round we had to get out of the way for a Sierra Cosworth, but still made up some time on the first run, so it wasn’t too bad.

SS9 was back to bellever, and finally I managed to get a hairpin right and use the handbrake, although I’m sure it felt better than it looked. And then it was all over. Just a trundle back through the stage once everyone had finished, and then off to the pub (where someone nicked my wallet, it would seem), and then the 100 mile journey home. As ever, the Favorit performed perfectly throughout the day, not missing a beat despite being driven by an incompetent.

As I said at the beginning, there are milestones in people’s lives when they realise that the course they thought it might take isn’t what will actually happen, or that their abilities fall far short of what is required. I never had any illusions of coming into rallying to do well, I just thought I’d have a go and enjoy myself. And forest events more so – yesterday was supposed to be the realisation of years of wanting to do such an event. But it just showed clearly that I don’t have the natural ability to control a car in such circumstances, or the nerves of steel needed to learn at anything other than a glacial pace. Anyone who can control a car on gravel has my total respect. It’s certainly something that I know I’ll never be able to do to any degree of competence.