I like to consider myself a relatively brave man. I don’t, for example, fear spiders, or snakes, or very big dogs. Nor do weird noises in the night concern me (it’s the fridge, it’s always the fridge). And strangers – that last bastion of unnecessary worry – have, to date, caused me little concern; of the hundreds I have met in my life, only three have taken the time to rob me (turns out it’s not always the fridge after all). But, right now, here, strapped into a vehicle that comes with neither roof, nor doors, I’m scared. Actually, I’m more than scared. To be quite frank, I want my mum.
The reason for this trauma is threefold: 1) We are travelling at more than 190kmph. I have my foot firmly on the accelerator and the sudden arrival of a red cone at the side of the road informs me that a corner is imminent, and it’s probably time to start braking; 2) The Italian racing instructor sitting next to me clearly doesn’t believe in ‘braking’ and, via a hand signal traditionally used to startle bulls, urges me to keep accelerating. This immediately leads to trauma number three: understanding that both factors one and two are clearly going to override any daft hand signal and I’m seconds from stamping hard on the brake. But the nice Italian man does something rather unexpected – he puts his hand on my knee. Now, the last time a man rested his hand on my knee was during a Sunday Matinee at the Swiss Cottage Odeon and it did not, let me assure you, end well. This time however, it’s a ruthless manoeuvre designed – successfully – to keep my foot firmly on the gas. The speedo leaps from 190 to 210, the rev counter thunders towards 10,000rpm, the dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree and I know but one thing: if I turn into this corner we are both going to die.
Now, let me take you out of the car and pop you in the 50,000 capacity grandstand – front row seats, lucky you – about 200 yards up the road. Imagine a warm summer night at the Yas Marina race circuit. In the distance you can hear the throaty rumblings of two Aston Martin GT4 racers, and the more vigorous whine of the two-seater, open-top Supersport SSX’s, part of the flagship fleet of the newly formed Yas Marina Racing School. Designed to allow novices (you) the chance to drive racing cars alongside handpicked instructors – there are even a few names from the F1 Ferrari team in there – the school will soon have 15 three-litre, V6 single-seater racers to join the Astons, the two seater, V10, 700bhp F1 race car and, of course, the open-topped Supersports, one of which is rapidly approaching.
Cutting through the peaceful night air like an enraged banshee, its piercing howl tells you they’re moving fast. The driver must be good. He must have skill. Nobody could take the corner this fast unless he was really clued-up. And then they pass! A grim-faced Italian, holding the knee of a ruddy-faced buffoon who is literally begging for his mother to be made available for an emergency cuddle. We didn’t die, and I may not have learnt to be the best driver in the world, but I have learnt one thing, if nothing else – fear.
Ross Brown does not have his own racing team, but he is the editor of Time Out Dubai.
The lowdown
The price: Dhs950 for a drive with an instructor in the Aston Martin or Yas Supersport SST. Two laps in the F1 two-seater is Dhs7,500
The fleet: They are still flying the cars in, but ultimately it will boast 10 SSTs, seven Astons, 15 single-seater racers, two F1 two-seaters, eight hatchbacks and 30 go-karts
To book: www.yasmarinacircuit.ae or call 800 927. Drivers must be 18 and hold a full driver’s licence
