KEY POINTS:
Many non-professional sportspeople have an overinflated opinion of their own skills, particularly when it comes to driving. And driving a race car has nothing in common with sitting on a couch, holding a PS2, and setting lap records using just your thumbs.
The closest I'd come to experiencing the thrill of driving in a V8 Supercar race was being a passenger in Shane Price's No 7 Jack Daniel's Holden at a round of the Australian V8 Supercars earlier this year.
But now it's the real thing - well almost - as I squeeze into Paul Manuell's Orix-sponsored NZV8 Holden.
Even getting in is a feat in itself. I have to climb through steel bars, bend my head until my chin touches my chest and try to slide in.
The straps are so tight it's hard to breathe and I can hardly move. My bravado is rapidly diminishing - maybe this is going to be harder than I think.
The Holden starts with a series whirrs, clunks, and a horrendous bellowing, making me wonder if the V8 is about to blow up.
The combination of whining straight-cut gears, limited-slip diffs, booming exhausts and no soundproofing makes for a hell of a racket. As we lurch, pop and bang down the pit lane I'm waiting for the blue smoke to come pouring into the cabin.
Accelerating down the straight, things smooth out - to a certain degree. After just one lap I can't equate driving a Supercar V8 with any other sport - these conditions are really tough. After a couple of laps it gets hot inside the cabin, the noise makes it hard to think. And the gearbox is primeval - straight-cut gears and no syncro. It takes a lot of physical effort to manhandle 1350kg of steel and plastic around a track. And there are the G-forces, particularly when breaking at the end of the straight from 240kph to about 50kph for the hairpin. The harness bites into your shoulders and it's difficult to keep your feet on the pedals.
I was breaking at the 200-yard marker but Manuell and the other professionals brake at the 100-yard marker - and they're going faster. It hit home that you have be able to carry great corner speed in order to go fast down the straight.
This is definitely not like driving the family car. You need lightning reflexes and must anticipate when the car is about to let go. And you need a high level of concentration. The brain is constantly multi-tasking to analyse what's going on - where the car is on the track, what the revs are, what gear you're in, anticipating the next corner, and looking out for braking markers. I was lucky because there were no other cars on the circuit, but professionals have to think about all those factors while contending with about 20 other cars, sometimes within a few centimetres of the door handles.
Driving one of these things isn't about putting your foot flat to the floor - it's about handling, balance, cornering and braking. It takes a lot of finesse to control anything at 240km/h, be it in a straight line or around a corner.
As you start to turn the steering wheel, you also start to lift off the brake pedal. As you exit the corner, you begin to press on the accelerator, at the same time correcting the car's drift and getting it set up for the next corner.
Being smooth is the secret - anticipating and then applying the controls before you need them.
I now know I can drive a race car, just not at speeds that could be regarded as competitive.
Who knows what would happen if there were other cars on the circuit sniping at my rear end?
There's some science, too, in driving a car like this. Mastering the skills needed to go fast requires an understanding of the equal and opposite reactions of every action behind the wheel. It also takes a lot of guts.
One thing I certainly learned: when it comes to hard-out driving such as this, we're never as good as we think we are.
