Standing unclothed in a Bavarian hotel bathroom is not my typical Thursday morning routine. Before me lay the first layer of my transformation: fire-resistant socks, long johns, and a long-sleeved top, all in a sombre grey and coated in a chemical called Nomex. The attire felt more suited to a space mission than a morning in southern Germany, but it was essential kit for the adventure ahead.
Gearing Up for the Ultimate Drive
Earlier that day, I had signed a waiver acknowledging the very real dangers of rally driving. As I pulled on the protective underwear, the reality of stepping so far outside my normal office-based life began to sink in. The full ensemble was completed with a branded WRC racing suit, specialised shoes, a balaclava, helmet, and a HANS (Head and Neck Support) device.
I had been granted a rare privilege by the organisers of the Central European Rally: a passenger seat alongside former World Rally Champion Ott Tänak during a shakedown session. This pre-event test allows drivers to fine-tune their cars, and for a champion like Tänak, every second gained here is precious. Over the rally's three days, competitors would race across closed-road stages in Germany, Austria, and Czechia.
The Logistical Nightmare of Entry
Approaching the Hyundai i20 N Rally1 car, its aggressive aerodynamics and massive wheels made it look like a toy brought to life. Getting inside, however, was anything but child's play. The protective roll cage turns entry into a complex puzzle. Attempting to step in leg-first, as you would in a normal car, is impossible. Instead, I had to fold myself almost in half, head down, and haul my body through the opening like, as I vividly recall, "an arthritic orangutan."
Gravity assisted in dropping me into the form-fitting carbon fibre bucket seat. The next challenge was the five-point harness, part of which had to be retrieved from underneath me before it could be secured. A team member ensured it was tightened far beyond my own effort, compressing my torso and leaving me in no doubt of its purpose: to keep me firmly in place during the immense forces to come.
Flat Out with a World Champion
With the final safety checks complete and a GoPro activated, Tänak gave a thumbs-up. The 1.6-litre turbocharged engine, producing around 360bhp, roared to life. The car vibrated with pent-up energy as we navigated public roads to reach the closed stage, a surreal experience in a machine capable of 0-60mph in under four seconds.
At the stage start, I handed over our time card—a crucial document in rallying—before stowing it safely. I asked Tänak how hard he planned to drive. His answer came not in words, but in action the moment the countdown reached zero.
The acceleration was violent, pinning me to the seat. The world outside the windscreen became a high-speed blur of autumn leaves and asphalt. Tänak, utterly composed, threw the car into corners with precision, the tyres screeching in protest. My attempts at commentary dissolved into a series of involuntary exclamations as we hurtled towards hay bales and clipped a marker pole, shattering a wing mirror.
For two minutes and sixteen point four seconds, every sense was overloaded. It felt simultaneously like an eternity and an instant. The car, a ferocious beast to me, was an extension of the Estonian driver's will, dancing perfectly to his inputs.
As we screeched to a halt, I was left giggling and utterly discombobulated. I later learned our time of 2:16.4 was the second fastest of the session. When people ask what it was like, the answer is simple. If you ever get the chance, let Ott Tänak give you the greatest ride of your life.
