PRYCE IS RIGHT
Almost by definition, rally drivers are a breed apart. This won’t be at all surprising if you’ve ever had the good fortune to watch onboard footage of, say, Kris Meeke hammering Moll’s Gap in a Metro 6R4, or of course Frank Kelly, the most famous Tarmac Escort-chucker since Bertie Fisher departed this mortal realm.
To put it another way, rally drivers know full well that trees and dry-stone walls don’t flinch and that it’s invariably the car that comes off worst whenever the two are introduced, and yet they press on regardless.
That professional rally drivers are so ready to shrug-off the risks associated with piloting an internal combustion engine through a slimy forest probably says as much about their innate need for adrenaline as
