Virtually real: Exchanging track days for PlayStations

If anybody ever gives me grief for not curing cancer, I’m blaming Gran Turismo 3.

During my crucial final high school years – when I should have been cramming my mental cache with as many algebraic formulas as possible – I was instead faffing about at Laguna Seca in a Dodge Viper GTS R.

Instead of committing to memory passages from Jane Austen novels, I was trying to find a tenth around a tortuous time trial circuit in a Porsche 911 Turbo.

And instead of, well, smuggling cigarettes and other contraband into the family household, I was developing blisters on my right thumb from getting down into the 1:12s in a Polyphony 001 Formula One car at Monaco.

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But then something happened: I got my Ps.

Almost overnight, I lost all interest in Gran Turismo 3, and then 4, 5 and whatever else it’s up to now. Somehow, a three-cylinder, manual Daihatsu Charade – with about as much power as a Nutribullet – was infinitely more interesting.

As my pals continued to swap war stories about Forza Somethingorother, Assetto Corsa and then iRacing, I’d interject with an anecdote from Gran Turismo 3, as if mentioning my favourite VHS in a conversation about Netflix shows. My knowledge of racing games was frozen in time.

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The other day, however, something inexplicably changed in the real world that’s piqued my curiosity in the virtual one once again.

I found myself in Victoria’s High Country – a very happy hunting ground – in Toyota’s new GR Corolla.

It was as enjoyable as ever, but as I wound up to six tenths, then seven, then eight, I couldn’t help but think, what if a cyclist appears in the middle of the next blind corner? What if a deer runs out in front of the car – as has happened to me in this region on more than one occasion?

What if the next oncoming four-wheel-drive, lumbering around a corner, is not just on the middle line, but a bit in my lane?

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These are thoughts we’re all normally able to successfully swat away, but this time around they seemed… stronger.

Of course, it could have been the Corolla’s Yokohama tyres which, when icy cold, might be good for a rope swing and little else. But the stakes did feel a little higher than usual. And not just because modern cars, even hot hatches, are capable of carrying some serious kinetic energy.

I also recently watched a YouTube video of an Australian man who sold his Mazda MX-5 track day car and basically replaced it with a $20,000 sim rig. His rationale? Track days are expensive, for him anxiety-inducing and take him away from his young family.

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With a highly realistic sim in the spare bedroom, he can kiss his child on the forehead goodnight and then minutes later be theoretically racing (the real) Max Verstappen through Eau Rouge in a Ferrari 296 GT3 car.

Maybe I’m getting old – or maybe I’ve been living in Victoria too long – but I reckon that’s pretty damn cool. Cooler, though, than the real thing?

Many of you would know first-hand that driving in both the real and virtual worlds can be a complementary thing – you don’t have to choose one over the other. And I can see the merit in porting across some of the risk from reality, to PlayStation.

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In an old shitbox like the one in my garage – undoubtedly worthy of a negative ANCAP rating – that’s a lot of risk. It might be time to pick up where I left off… in 2004.

As for anyone pinning their hopes on me curing cancer, let’s just say Gran Turismo 3 wasn’t the problem.