Experiencing the thrill of Formula One first hand

“Your blood pressure is a little above average, but you should be ok”

Those were the words I was not sure I wanted to hear, as the Yas Marina Circuit doctor gave me the all clear to take a step into the unknown.

Suddenly, as this once in a lifetime opportunity loomed large, the bravado of the previous days had all but evaporated, the bad jokes had dried up and the reality of what I was about to do hit me.

Standing in the next building was the pinnacle of man’s obsession with speed and danger - a formula one car.

And in just a few short minutes I would be strapping myself into a carbon fibre bullet on wheels to be hurtled around the newest addition to the F1 scene at speeds of more than 300km/h.

Understand the nerves now?

But it was largely self-inflicted. These nerves started after I made the mistake of taking a look around the specially converted car when I arrived. The hole behind the drivers’ seat barely seemed large enough to fit a Chihuahua in with any comfort, never mind a human being.

There didn’t actually appear to be a seat and the car was so low to the ground that I began to wonder if even there was enough room to clear a group of ants that might happen to be crossing the pristine tarmac track. One falsely placed stone and I might find myself taking an unexpected trip to the wall at three figure speeds.

My biggest mistake was chatting with Noel Thompson, the man responsible for bringing and building these two seater rockets to Abu Dhabi.

He told me these beasts can sprint from 0 to 200km/h and back to zero again in under four seconds, joked that the braking is so intense that my neck might snap, and added that Bruno Senna (who would be driving me round) didn’t understand the phrase ‘friendly drive’.

Even as I was donning my race suit – “fire proof pants and vest; we’re not planning on you catching fire but its just in case you understand” – I was wrestling with my emotions, each second veering from uncontrollable fear to uncontrollable excitement.

When I was all kitted up, I took the long walk from the team paddock (we were using McClaren’s pit) to the garage.

Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the air and the second of the special two seater F1 cars came to a screeching halt in front of me.

The howling beast silenced and the Yas Marina Circuit emblazoned machine was wheeled backwards into the pit, just as I’ve seen a hundred times on the TV.

At this moment I instinctively glanced at the place I would be taking, the passenger seat. The man occupying that place had been equally as apprehensive but his initial grimace had been replaced by an ear to ear grin – like that of a 10 year old who found himself accidentally locked inside Disneyland.

It was at this point that the fears melted away. I carefully stepped into the car, inserted my earplugs which allowed me to hear the pit crew talking, had myself strapped in – very, very, very, very tightly and waited.

Eventually the tyre warmers came off, a noise which resembled 100 demons being tortured  filled the garage and the car was let off its jacks and let loose on the floor.

As the slicks slowly inched onto the circuit, a quick burst of acceleration acted as a jolting precursor. My head rocked back like a boxer who had just been tagged by Mike Tyson in his prime.

I relaxed into my seat as best as possible, I decided to try and talk my way round the track like a junior and (hopefully) less hysterical Murray Walker.

We snaked our way through a tunnel, clearly the most unusual pit exit lane in the world, and then bang…an explosion.

It was pure brutality. The visceral acceleration threw me back in my seat and left my stomach around 100m or so behind the car, then just as quickly Senna hit the brakes…hard. My head was thrown forward and into the back of his seat.

As he put his foot down out of the corner, my head was forced backwards yet again. The initial shock of my introduction to F1 had gone and my surprise was replaced by a smile the width of the circuit itself.

My attempts to commentate degenerated into a series of barely legible whoops and hollers. I was in on an adrenalin fuelled cloud nine. Greeting every turn, every stab of the gas pedal and every slamming of the brake with a bigger and bigger grin.

The highlights? Well all of it really. The experience of accelerating hard into the world’s longest straight (1.2km), listening to the engine singing a top note before the jackhammer brakes anchor the car from 300kmh to 80 kmh in less than 2 seconds.

The intense exhilaration generated by throwing the car into a corner at more than 200kmh and accelerating all the way round, your head being snapped sideways by the G force that feels like someone sitting on your shoulder and kicking you in the head.

And from a purely aesthetic point of view, the circuit is breathtaking. The long straights, coupled with the series of hard braking first and second gear corners make this a challenging circuit with plenty of opportunity for overtaking.

They really have created a beautiful track and it is spectacular enough when sitting in the stands. But flashing under the futuristic new hotel at more than 250kmh is an experience that is nothing short of amazing.

As the car came to a halt (around 45 laps sooner than wanted it would be), I shook his hand so eagerly that I may have broken it, the smile on my face was tattooed on and infectious.

Imagine the most fun you ever had and multiply it by 100, then you’ll be about half-way there.

Eventually, there are plans to turn this into a commercial venture, giving those willing to part with enough cash, the opportunity to experience the pure adrenalin of F1.

If you ever even get the sniff of an opportunity to take a trip like this, snap their hands off. Beg, steal or borrow your way into the seat.

As I write this it has been four hours since I got out of the car, my neck hurts, but I ‘m still smiling. I’m guessing the grin will still be there sometime in 2010.