If you throw lap times out the window, the thrill of driving different machinery around a track is the concept of build philosophy and their respective challenges.
Make it all about the tenths around one lap and ultimately we’ll all end up in the same builds, did somebody say Evo? Individual taste and their preconceptions make up just as much of the fun and fulfilment.
There’s the daunting task of wrangling around a big GT car around, controlling inertia and the seemingly limitless torque and horsepower.
If you’re into precision and exploring the thrills of tech on four wheels, jump into a contemporary GTR or any Evolution.
It could also be the finesse and delinquent behaviour of a RWD turbo.
To me though, the kamikaze nature of a lightweight FWD places the category and associated builds very high up in the list of must-try formulas for circuit work.
So much so that early eyes on Ralph’s CRX to any enthusiast will draw very straightforward conclusions. A CRX has no business looking like a sports car, but immediately you can see your favourite, all-action, full-speed ahead anime protagonist (like… Naruto?) as the owner of this panda chassis.
Those that haven’t had the chance to operate a light FWD in a performance environment probably don’t understand what I mean when I say that there is a unique method to the aggressive madness. All FWD track drivers know what it’s like entering a corner, vigorously throwing the wheel and pegging the car onto the apex, or scrunching their face in fury as they curb stomp the accelerator pedal as soon as traction is available.
Perhaps there’s less finesse, it’s not a pure art form like a RWD or a MR layout and ultimately science proves that it is inferior as a configuration to other performance options, but driving one at its limits is akin to the perfect rock anthem.
It’s adrenaline-driven, a concoction of intensity where any lulls are often the precursor to an avalanche of emotion. There’s yelling, screaming, all a bit chaotic but remains constant is a melody that grips you and never ceases to let go. Most certainly there is an absence of chill, you’ve moshed, felt alive and at the end of it all the sweat beads down your face and your shirt is soaked.
The high is so primitive and before you know it you’re yelling “WOO!” in unbridled euphoria.
“Any car at the limit brings this out” I hear you mumble, but hear me out here…
Humans have evolved to become the most cerebral the species has ever been. We applaud sophistication, thinking complex and using calculated methodologies and there is definitely no reason why it shouldn’t be admired.
To most people, driving a front-wheeler is a formula, cause and effect with significantly less hypotheticals over the course of a corner, which makes it less rewarding because you don’t have to think as much. The nuances aren’t as abundant, and dynamically it’s supposedly more restrictive.
At the end of the day though, we’re animals. Think back to the last time you shed tears of joy, anger, sadness. More than likely it came from something oh so simple. If you explore your favourite rock anthem, the composition too is likely to be simple, but all in its execution and more importantly, how engaged its listener is in the moment. It’s tropes touch on the most raw of emotions, everybody understands the appeal of rock, even if it’s not their cup of tea.
A FWD does this on track. It gives amateur, low-level drivers like you and I the most frequent opportunity to push ourselves to the limit and feel safe about the repercussions. Our investment into reaching those heights emotionally on track day doesn’t necessarily correlate to big damage in resources or financials. A full send and you’ll likely get an experience worth remembering.
Long Live the FWD!