For most, a Thursday morning involves a commute and a coffee. For me, it involved standing naked in a Bavarian hotel bathroom, pulling on fire-resistant long johns. This was the surreal start to an unforgettable day as a passenger in a World Rally Championship car with former champion Ott Tänak.
Gearing Up for the Ultimate Adrenaline Rush
The journey began with signing a waiver acknowledging the very real dangers of rallying. Then came the specialised kit. The first layer was a set of dull grey, calf-length socks, long johns, and a long-sleeve top, all coated in fire-resistant Nomex fabric. This was covered by a full WRC-branded racing suit, complete with dainty racing shoes, a balaclava, helmet, and a HANS (Head and Neck Support) device.
I was at the Central European Rally, a three-day event spanning Germany, Austria, and Czechia. The organisers had granted me a rare privilege: to join Estonian driver Ott Tänak in his Hyundai i20 N Rally1 car for a shakedown session—a final test before the competitive stages began.
The Logistical Nightmare of Entry
Approaching the car, a safety briefing emphasised not touching the protective roll cage. Then came the challenge of actually getting in. This is not a normal Hyundai. With its massive carbon fibre spoilers and wheels, it shares only basics like lights and a door handle with the showroom model. Clambering inside is a feat of contortion.
You cannot enter leg-first. Instead, I had to fold myself in half, head down, and haul my body through the roll cage like, as I noted, an arthritic orangutan. Gravity then helped lower me into the moulded carbon fibre bucket seat. The next indignity was fishing out the five-point harness from underneath me before securing it. A team member promptly tightened it further, squeezing the air from my lungs and making comfort south of the border a distant memory.
Under the bonnet sat a 1.6-litre turbocharged engine producing around 360bhp, capable of 0-60mph in under four seconds. As Ott leapt in effortlessly, the engine awoke with a vibrating growl. We drove on public roads to the stage, a bizarre experience sitting behind a family saloon in a machine desperate to unleash its fury.
Two Minutes and Sixteen Seconds of Pure Terror
At the start line, I handed our time card to an official—a crucial document in rallying. With a three-minute gap to the car ahead, I asked Ott how hard he planned to drive. As the countdown hit zero, he answered with his right foot.
The launch pinned me to my seat. On paper, the car is brutally fast. In reality, the acceleration is visceral. My eyeballs felt forced to the back of my skull as the world became a blur of golden leaves and approaching corners. Ott sawed at the wheel, dancing the car left and right with impossible precision.
I attempted commentary, but it devolved into a series of involuntary ‘oh Lords’ and ‘Jaysus’ exclamations. My heart rate peaked at 117bpm as we hurtled towards a giant hay bale, only for Ott to flick the car through an impossible sequence to avoid it. Mid-stage, we clipped a pole, shattering a wing mirror—a reminder of the fine margins.
Beside me, Tänak was the picture of calm concentration, a swan gliding above water while his feet worked at a frenetic pace beneath. He was in complete control, bending the car’s ferocious power to his will.
Suddenly, it was over. We came to a halt beside the timing steward. I was giggling uncontrollably, utterly discombobulated. I later learned we completed the 3-mile stage in 2 minutes and 16.4 seconds, the second-fastest time of the session.
People have asked 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.
