Mazda Heritage Day - BBC Top Gear Australia

06 October 2010 - 10:00

Manic Mazdas

Racing drivers, what a pack of PR-pimped prima donnas. Superhuman, are they? Preternaturally gifted? Hell, even The Stig is human, if you believe the evil mass media. The fact is, racing drivers have two hands and two feet, same as us, and turning a steering wheel ain't rocket science. Rumours that they're all titanically blessed in the testicle area were probably put about entirely by racers themselves.

I was left even less convinced of their other-worldliness after half a day at Wakefield Park taking part in the Mazda Motorsport Heritage Drive Day. Yes, as unlikely as it sounds in these OH and S daze, Mazda put six of its race cars on a track, with no cones or fluoro vests in site, and invited TopGear and a bunch of other grinning press people to drive them, as much and as hard as we liked.

And what I learned was that race cars, once you've been three-point harnessed into them by some big bloke who seems disturbingly interested in fondling your crotch, are almost laughably easy, and hilariously enjoyable, to drive. Seriously.

We're too often guilty in this job of saying this car or that "handles like a race car", and I'd like to retract every time I've clichéd out that old cliché. Race cars handle like cars in the same way that French champagne tastes like sparkling mineral water. They're distantly related, outwardly similar, but entirely, intoxicatingly different.

Put it this way, one of the six racers (they also had an original Cosmo Sports 110S Rotary there, but I didn't drive it, on the basis that old cars are all shit) was a Mazda3 Diesel Targa racer, and it was one of the best handling, most benign things I've ever had the pleasure of throwing at a corner.

It's not quick, obviously, but with its front diff cancelling out torque steer and all the race fettling money can buy, the chassis is sweeter than a sugar-coated peach. You can just do whatever you like with it and there's minimal tyre squeal, no understeer and total confidence at every turn. It's no surprise to hear that its driver, the enthusiastic Peter Brown, was flogging people in Evo Xs with it in Tasmania.

See the Heritage photos here

With a sense of increasing disbelief I jumped from that surprise package into a series of hardcore, semi-slicked vehicles, giggling like a loon. Even the Mazda2 rally car, while slower than a season of Master Chef, was a hoot to steer.

The 3 MPS racing car, which Dick Johnson had earlier belted us around the track in, was a serious highlight. It's what the road car would be like in a perfect world, basically. Now, because race drivers are, I'll admit, more insane than normal humans, I'd been somewhat put off driving the star of the field, the RX8-SP race car by a few laps in the passenger seat with its pilot, Targa tyro Steve Glenney.

After lunch, ie: the half day where I'd felt convinced of my hypothesis, and after it started to rain, the Mazda people insisted I strap myself in. There was a bit of shouting, and a bit of whimpering from me, and then I was told that "some idiot" had put some ruined rear tyres on in the lunch break, and some shiny new ones on the front. Did I mention it was raining?

The SP is a beast, a barking mad one at that, and just getting it around Wakefield on a gentle, careful throttle had me sweating large-calibre bullets, but what a machine.Torquey where the standard car is not, unfeasibly stable and chuckable, perfect steering, less than zero bodyroll and the brakes - they could stop Tony Abbott at full flight, so powerful do they feel.There's no feel, of course, and the idea of "dabbing" them to wash off speed is like just tapping someone with a speeding bullet.

But once you get used to it all, it's just an inspiring experience. But drive it fast? On slippery, snowy Targa roads? I wouldn't even try. After half a dozen laps in that monster, in those conditions, I had to admit, racing drivers are a bit special. A bit non-mortal, even if their cars do make it easy for them.

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