John Marcar’s Motorsport Diary: Chapter 3 - Test Day Nerves vs Excitement

The word test can be triggering. It often signifies some cognitive challenge requiring revision or a dreaded study session. For many people, the word test will trigger negative memories of school, college or university. Place the word 'Maths' before the word 'test', and I'll personally shudder as I think back to the misery of being a bit useless with numbers at school.

This week, however, the word test took on a whole new meaning for me. I attended my first-ever official test day as a driver with the glorious Ferrari 296 Challenge. I've attended test days before, but only on the organisational or media side. Test days allow drivers and teams to drive and tweak racing cars ahead of a competitive race event. The test days are non-competitive but do require a race licence to partake. This was the first time I was able to flash my new shiny blue racing licence, which would grant me the necessary wristband to drive.

It was more than just my first test day as a driver; it was also the first time I'd be driving the Ferrari 296 Challenge, complete with its new satin black wrap and Driven livery.

Nerves vs Excitement

Generally speaking, I don't suffer from nerves very often. A career in event and media production soon put a stop to that nonsense, meaning things like stage fright and apprehensive butterflies ahead of productions were all but quashed sometime in my early twenties. But on the night before my test day, sitting in the familiar comfort of my home and at the grand old age of 37, I was exceptionally nervous for the first time in around 20 years. My partner was the first to pick up on it; she could see I wasn't my usual self, and I think it's fair to assume that most people would feel similar the night before a day of driving somebody else's £450,000 Ferrari racing car around an F1 circuit. It wasn't all nerves, though; there was a good dose of excitement there, too.

I'm a visual thinker, so to help process my emotions, I imagined an instrument clock, like a car temperature gauge with a needle theoretically pointing upwards as a middle point. The left side of my imaginary guage is the scale of nerves. To the right is excitement. The needle pointing perfectly upward would represent a perfect 50:50 balance between the two emotions.

As I got into bed the night before the test day, the needle was very much pointing toward nerves. Admittedly, there was an element of excitement, but it was marginal in comparison. I didn't sleep much at all as I thought through the many scenarios that could potentially unfold.

Following an early start and a clear drive to the circuit the following morning, the needle was still firmly pointing towards the nervous side. I walked into the garage and saw the car going through its final stages of preparation, and the emotional needle straightened marginally upward to the 50:50 point as some excitement built.

As I got kitted up in my race suit and boots and prepared my helmet and Hans device, the needle didn't know where to sit. There was no going back now.

Introducing a hero to our story: Mr Miles Lacey

I have a tremendous supportive factor ahead of my first-ever competitive motorsport season: a friend and colleague called Miles Lacey. Those who have been following Driven for a while will already be familiar with Miles. For anyone new to the fold, allow me to explain. Miles Lacey is one of my co-hosts on The Driven Podcast. He's an ex-vehicle dynamics engineer for Bentley and now fills his diary with various media appointments, podcast recordings, road tests and (most importantly) motor races as a professional racing driver.

When the prospect of the Ferrari Challenge series came up, Miles kindly raised his hand and offered his services as my driver coach for the season. Seeing as we're making a media song and dance around Driven's participation in the series, it made sense for Miles to be involved.

Miles and I have known each other for a while, as both friends and colleagues, but the one thing we've not yet done is work together in a tutor-student environment. As many will know, taking a friend/colleague dynamic and transforming it to more of a 'do as I'm telling you to do' relationship doesn't always bode well - but - we had to give it a try. The first test day for the car and I would also be the first test for the relationship between Miles and me in a very new environment.

The Shakedown

Given Miles's extensive experience in racing cars, he kindly offered to take the car out first for a few shakedown laps and to condition the newly fitted Pirelli racing slick tyres. It would also be beneficial for Miles when offering tuition as he'd have a better understanding of the car and what it's capable of.

Miles went out solo for a few laps, pitted in once to consult with our engineer and then went out again for a few more solo laps. Once happy, he returned to the pitlane, looked in my direction, and said, "Right, your turn."

The First Drive

There is a particular art of getting into a Ferrari 296 Challenge car. A roll cage encroaches on the typical access point's upper, lower and forward angles. Then there's the bucket seat, which is incredibly comfortable to sit in but requires some contortion to bypass the roll cage bars and fall into it. Add on the factors of a crash helmet that exaggerates the size of your head by what feels like double PLUS a Hans device which restricts head movement for safety... and the simple act of getting into a car, something I've probably done more than 10,000 times in my life, suddenly feels like an entirely alien concept. It's a feet first, bum second, hands third approach... it'll get easier with time (I hope). Once in the driver seat, I was hooked up to an intercom system, enabling communication with Miles, who was now in the passenger seat beside me.

Miles offered some invaluable first tips, instructing me to become familiar with the controls, driving position and essential emergency aides if needed. Once we were both happy, the ignition switches were clicked into the on position, and a big red start button brought the car to life. Even with a crash helmet on, the atmospheric event that comes with switching on a twin turbo-charged Ferrari V6 is tricky to describe. Approximately 40cm behind mine and Miles' back is the beating heart of the 296 challenge. The engine has two uprated turbochargers with a maximum boost spool of 180,000 RPM (each). When idling, the car sounds fierce; it has a purposeful drone. Once moving, it takes on a whole new personality.

I click the right gear paddle back to engage first gear, and with that, we're off to a start. I pressed the throttle with caution, just ticking it, which caused the engine tone to change as the clutch engaged. We started to roll forward. A whine from the gearbox joins the drone from the engine, and the car vibrates with purpose as we head out of the pitlane and onto the world-famous Silverstone Circuit.

Miles offers some sound advice immediately, "let's give the brakes a sanity check". We do this for two reasons: firstly, to check that they work and, secondly, to get a feel for them. Even for a test tap, the brakes feel stronger than anything I've ever experienced on four wheels. We take the first couple of laps steadily to build up heat in the tyres and the brakes, and eventually, Miles instructs me to push on a little harder.

Prior to the day in the car, Miles and I spent a day on our very own driving simulator, which runs iRacing. The set-up was kindly put together by one of our sponsors, GeekaPC, who built us a dedicated PC and assembled a driving rig with a seat, frame, three screens and a top-of-the-range wheel and peddle set from Moza. The sim set-up has been a vital tool for refreshing driving lines and braking points. Whilst an exact model of the 296 challenge car doesn't exist on iRacing, there is a 296 GT3, which is close enough for similar characteristics. I have consumed every spare moment in the office by driving the Ferrari on iRacing at all the circuits we're driving this year... it's work, honestly.

Out in the real thing, in the real world, on the real circuit, the knowledge that the sim had granted was put to good use, but there is no substitute for real-world driving; simulators will never be able to replicate true g-forces or physics from braking, steering and accelerating. Thanks to the time spent on the sim, I'm pretty sure that my driving lines are better than that of a total novice, and I've also been fortunate enough to drive the Silverstone circuit a few times previously in a selection of my own track day cars. Due to the power of the Ferrari 296 Challenge, though, some aspects of the circuit were frankly unrecognisable.

The fastest car I'd driven at Silverstone prior was my own BMW Z3M Coupe, a tuned and lightweight version of what was already a fast car for its time. But my old BMW only produced around 320hp; the Ferrari 296 Challenge produces more than double that power, with peak power at over 690HP.

With Miles' guidance, it was time to get a better feel for brakes and steering, which, like the power, were more substantial than anything else I'd experienced before. To give the brakes a descriptive word, I can best use: 'savage'. Hitting the brake peddle hard causes a sensation that all of your facial features are attempting to tear themselves off of your own head. The racing harness keeps you secured to the back of the seat, but the g-forces from stopping can be felt internally. Of course, the reality of what I was experiencing was only mild compared to what we would be building up to later that day.

After around 20 minutes of driving and 10 laps, give or take, Miles suggested a break and a breather to allow some processing time before heading back out.

We pulled into the pitlane and stopped. I clambered out of the car almost as un-gracefully as the process of climbing in, but with the most incredible sensation of adrenaline and satisfaction. The emotion gauge was now firmly pointing towards excitement, and it felt great.

After a 15-minute break, Miles and I jumped back into the car and returned to work. The speeds increased, the braking points came later, and the driving lines were all tidied up thanks to Miles's fantastic instruction. Another 20-minute session passed us by in a flash, and my confidence in the car was growing exponentially.

Lunch Break

We stopped again, this time in time for lunch and following some food, Miles and I sat down in front of a laptop to watch back some of the footage we'd recorded so far with a VBOX race software system that's installed on the cars. The VBOX records everything on video and overlays information, including speed, g forces, and even the positions of the peddles and steering angle. With the footage the system had captured in the morning, we were able to look through and break down where driving lines could be tidied up and where the technique could be improved. It was clear that I was hesitant with both the brakes and the steering, and this was something we needed to work on in the afternoon.

'I think this might just work.'

Lunch was over, and it was time to get back to it. As before, it was more of the same, with better lines and more purposeful braking points. The communication between Miles and I was fantastic, and once we'd both relaxed into the environment, we were able to share more than a few laughs, usually at my expense, for being either too cautious into corners or a bit too ambitious. I realised very quickly in this first session after lunch that having Miles by my side as my driver coach for the season was going to work well. As my confidence grew, I pushed harder to the point that the slick tyres reached the end of their life.

Slick tyres are a marvel; when at their prime, they change how you think about driving by offering a grip that a road tyre could never reward, but when they expire, you know about it very quickly. What had been a sensation of a super-glue-like grip transformed very quickly into something more resemblant to PVA glue until, quite suddenly again, they simply stopped providing the grip I'd become accustomed to. Upon realising this, we pitted in again for some new rubber and one last break.

Let's quit whilst we're ahead.

The final session came with a set of fresh rubber, and Miles offered yet more invaluable advice by explaining the importance of conditioning new slick tyres.

Miles explained that getting heat into the new tyres is best built up with longitudinal forces - i.e., straight-line acceleration and braking as opposed to transverse side-to-side weaving. At over £2,000 per set, you want to get this right, as getting it wrong could result in the new tyres being worth little more than a trip to the nearest wheelie bin after just a few laps.

Once the tyres were sufficiently bedded in and up to their prime, it was time to push on for one last session. This time, I broke later, turned in faster and accelerated out of corners using the best possible lines.

After another 20 minutes of driving, I was satisfied with the day. There would also be enough rubber on our second set of slick tyres to use at our next test event in a few weeks.

We completed our last lap, drove back into the pits and came to a stop for the last time. The feeling was sensational. I'd got to know my Ferrari 296 Challenge car and was feeling much more prepared for what was to come. The hypothetical needle on my imaginary emotion gauge was now firmly pointed towards excitement, which felt incredible.

It's all starting to feel very real now.

As I got changed out of my racing kit and back into the more familiar combination of jeans and a t-shirt, I couldn't help but smile from ear to ear. The car had been flawless, Miles' tuition had been priceless, and I could now look ahead with a far greater understanding of what was to come. Who knows, I might even be quick!

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John Marcar's Ferrari Challenge Diary:

The Prologue >> READ HERE
Chapter 1: 'Ready 2 Race'>> READ HERE
Chapter 2: 'Let's Start Off by Winning'>> READ HERE
Chapter 3:' My First Official Test Day' >> (YOU’RE HERE)

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words by John Marcar
photography by Henry Faulkner-Smith