It’s easy to crash a car at the Goodwood Festival of Speed. The typical run up the hill usually involves you being introduced to your vehicle of choice about two minutes before you get flagged to go.
A representative from the manufacturer in question will give you a very quick series of instructions on how not to grenade the mechanicals, you’re belted in and left to your own devices for one of the most nerve-wracking minutes of your life.
Then it’s go time, on cold tyres, in an unfamiliar and often hugely expensive vehicle, in front of thousands of expectant fans and millions of viewers on the global feed. And all that before you’ve even factored in the pheasants. What could possibly go wrong?
As we’ve seen from this year’s event quite a lot, actually. Hyundai’s RN22e took top billing with its attempt to launch a set of hay bales to exit velocity but a BMW M1 Procar, a Porsche 911 GT1-98, a McLaren F1 GTR and an Adrian Newey-designed Leyton House Judd F1 car also failed to arrive at the top of the hill entirely unscathed. Or at all.
Molecomb Corner is the one that got the Hyundai and has claimed a number of scalps over the years. Remember Sir Chris Hoy binning then-Nissan boss Andy Palmer’s own R35 GT-R Nismo in 2014? Or Rod Millen’s Toyota Tacoma Pikes Peak the year prior? How can such an innocuous-looking left-hander cause such carnage?
Koenigsegg factory driver Robert Serwanski explains. “Molecomb corner is a 90-degree left hander which you reach at very high speed after being flat out. The tarmac has some dips and small bumps, which often can be felt quite significantly during braking.
This corner is the one that catches quite a few drivers out since you must brake before you actually can see the corner itself.”
That’s key. If you see the corner and then jump on the picks, you’re already destined for the bloopers reel. What Serwanski neglects to mention is that the heavily crowned track snakes subtly to the right in that braking zone, so even if you do brake in a responsibly straight line, you can still find yourself on the left-hand (read wrong) side of the track, again with that inevitable feeling that hay is in your future/teeth.
It’s almost the perfect ‘gotcha’ corner, which is why every year we see the same crashes repeated.
So spare a thought for the red-faced chaps who emerge from the bent metal. They’re trying to put on a show for us fans in circumstances that are often more testing than you’d give credit for. We’ve all pointed and laughed, but the last ‘moment’ I experienced at Molecomb was passengering in a Maserati Birdcage with Stirling Moss at the wheel.
If he could misjudge the bend, I reckoned virtually anyone could. Discretion has taken the better part of valour ever since. So while I wince at some of the footage from this year’s FoS, I raise a glass to all those people braver than me. Chapeau, chaps and chappesses.
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