CONOR TWOMEYwent to the Goodwood Festival of Speed in a Lexus IS-F and found himself a little out of his depth
I’M PARKED on a leafy laneway on a sunny afternoon near the south coast of England. My Lexus is idling smoothly, the gear lever is in the Park position and, apart from the wind rustling through the trees, all is calm.
Suddenly, the un-muffled V8 of a 1969 Boss Mustang erupts into life and jolts me from my daydream. A gallon of adrenaline, from which my daze gave me momentary respite, floods my arteries once more and my heart begins beating so hard it drowns out the sound of the ex-Australian Touring Car Mustang.
It gets worse. In front of me is Alan McNish, two-times Le Mans winner, driving a German Touring Car Audi A4 and Stig bloody Blomqvist has just poked his head in my door to ask me about my Lexus. I look at at the World Rally Championship (WRC) champion blankly. Not only am I shocked he’s talking to me (he’s one of my childhood heroes), I also know very little about the car I’m driving.
Before I can say anything, he looks up the lane, says “we’re rolling” and sprints back to his Audi Quattro. In another Quattro, just behind Blomqvist, is Walter Rohrl, another ex-WRC champion and Porsche’s current chief test driver. It’s a who’s-who of motor racing. What the hell am I doing here?
Alcohol is to blame, of course. The recent Lexus RX launch in Hungary was the occasion and, because the Irish were the last group to attend the launch, the Lexus folks were in celebratory form. With no driving to be done the following day, I downed several gins and, while enthusing about the IS-F, the suggestion was made that there might be a drive in a “track-spec” IS-F at the Goodwood Festival of Speed going a-begging. In a fit of gin-fuelled enthusiasm, I insisted it was made for me. Of course, I completely forgot the whole conversation the next day. They didn’t.
A week before the event, it looked like I might have wriggled off the hook, though – Lexus called and asked if I had a race licence. When I told them that I hadn’t, there was much umming and ahhing. An hour later, they called back: “No worries, you can still drive!” Damn.
Arriving at Goodwood the day before my scheduled drive only increased my nerves. I had assumed, never having been to Goodwood before, that it would be the usual collection of classic cars under covers, while pretentious owners droned on about the car’s fascinating past.
But the vast majority of historic competition cars at Goodwood are here to be used and, when possible, driven by the drivers who drove them to victory. As I wander around, I see the Gulf-liveried Porsche 917 from the Steve McQueen snooze-fest Le Mans rolling off a rather unassuming trailer, itself hooked up to a knackered Transit.
Over there is Damon Hill’s championship-winning Williams, Fangio’s Mercedes-Benz W196 – and who’s that climbing into it? Oh yeah, Stirling Moss. To say I feel a little out of my depth is an understatement.
When I reach the Lexus pits, I want to cry. As I stand talking with the Lexus race team, this gigantic desert racer that looks like a Mad Maxprop chugs up and stops alongside us. It reverses into the pit slot next to us and out clambers Jesse James, the tattoed star of American TV show Monster Garage. (Funnily enough, I caught an episode only yesterday where Jesse and his crew turned a classic Lincoln Continental into a gaudy drag-racer.) His 800bhp truck, combined with his friendly nature, means there is a constant crowd milling around our pits.
Great for Lexus, of course, here to promote the race-bred nature of its high-performance sports cars. Bad for me, though. As I don my race suit and clamber into to IS-F, people are taking pictures, on the offchance that I might be famous. That’s all I need – more attention.
The drive is the easy part. The track, basically an access road through Lord March’s immaculate estate near idyllic Goodwood, is tricky and damp in spots, but doesn’t faze the slick IS-F. It drives like the road-going test car parked outside my home because, well, it’s basically the same car. The track-spec IS-F was built in just four weeks and the bodywork, most of the suspension, the 5-litre V8 and the eight-speed transmission are all showroom specification.
Lexus has changed the suspension bushings, springs and shocks, fitted a limited-slip differential (which, they accidentally let slip, will be standard in the roadgoing IS-F next year) and locked out the transmission’s eighth gear (as per the regulations). Apart from a roll cage, racing seat and fire extinguisher, the IS-F is completely standard. It has its original steering wheel and sat-nav screen, as well as the original brake discs. It simply didn’t need race-spec discs, I’m told. And yet, despite being so close to the production model, it came third in its class at the recent Nürburgring 24-hour race.
After 1.87km and just 10 corners, it’s over. I don’t think the drive even lasted a minute. Even so, I feel incredibly privileged to be in the same group as so many legendary drivers.
As I roll back into the pits, the car is surrounded by people, cameras flashing and there’s a genuine buzz about the place. I must have given the IS-F a really good run. As I climb out, two burly security guards dash in to keep the crowd out of the pits, at which point I start to get a little concerned. Did I do something wrong? It’s only when I pull off my helmet and see Sandra Bullock (Jesse James’ wife, in case you were wondering) sitting behind my IS-F, looking bored, that I realise what all the fuss was about. Seems it wasn’t my driving after all.
For what it’s worth, my travel companions reported that the IS-F “looked like it was stopped” and “barely made a sound” as I drove it up the famous hill past a capacity crowd, which I thought was a bit unfair.
With a largely standard exhaust system, a driver rigid with fear and stability control permanently on, what did they expect?