Thrashing a 986bhp McLaren P1 GTR against a helicopter

I can’t remember what was said after that, other than I felt slightly dazed as I walked back up the office to tell my colleagues that McLaren was sending a driving instructor out to impart some tips. Bruno is imparting tips. I’m trying to listen, but I’m feeling slightly overwhelmed. I mean, just look at the GTR.

More specifically, look at that rear wing. That’s 400kg of downforce right there. It’s nuts. Earlier I watched it being backed off the truck. We all did, in fact, because although there’s some mighty tasty metal in the pitlane, this is, well, this is it. The star of the show. The big kahuna. The main event. So we gathered as a stadium tour’s worth of cables, trundle cases and spares was offloaded and watched as the McLaren roadies (OK, pit crew) set up shop in garage 19. And while the rest of the team whistled at the Inconel exhausts, pointed at the wing, said “Wiiiiiiing!” and picked up one of the aluminium wheels clad in slick Michelin rubber (“Sliiiiiiick!”), I retreated to the back of the garage to take stock and drink in the scene.

Charlie Turner, who’s sensitive to these kind of things, came over, “Just be safe, mate,” he said, “no one’s expecting you to be as fast as Bruno. Enjoy it.” From across the garage, Tom Ford piped up, “He’s only saying that – you’d better be bloody fast!”