SPEED KINGS
IT’S HARD TO TELL which is racing faster, your heart or your head. The runway is straight and hypnotic, and you have the better part of 1500 horsepower to harness. The problem isn’t so much getting up to speed, more the slowing down because we cannot use the full length of our airfield playground.
Early pluck has given way to intestine-wrangling tension – not that there’s anyone close enough to hear you curse. It’s just you, a Bugatti Chiron that is limited to 420km/h, and an ugly scar of blacktop that doesn’t feel level, even on foot. Take a breath. You know the drill. Word to the wise: if you absolutely have to talk to a car, for best results adopt a respectful tone. Launch… and we’re done with complete sentences.
Syllables bleed together in incomprehensible babble as self-doubt dissolves in rapids of adrenaline. Acceleration builds with brutal menace, each tug of the right paddle ushering in more commotion. The stats insist it will reach 200km/h from standstill in 6.5sec, but presumably that’s in the dry. It has been raining for much of the past week. If anything, it feels faster, to the point at which you realise that, yes, you just might be out of your depth, and by several fathoms. Nevertheless, you keep your foot in, at least until it’s time
