Our Man in the Cockpit
Being a motorsports journalist has its advantages: you get to interview people you have admired since you were a kid, you get to hang out with drivers you were used to seeing only on television, and, sometimes, you get paid to do things most people would only dream of. That's how, for a weekend, Mark Glendenning became Nick Heidfeld. Well, sort of...
I can pinpoint the exact moment that the sheer coolness of what I was doing fully sunk in.
It was at Turn 11. It's a tight-ish uphill left-hander that I'd spent most of the day taking in second gear. But after consultation with Mike The Instructor, the plan this time around was to hold it in third, keep the right foot planted, and see what happened. If it worked, the car would lean into the corner's steep camber, launch up the hill, I'd grab fourth on the way into the swooping Turn 12, and feel like a hero. If it didn't work, I'd run wide and head off towards the desert.
There's not a lot to hit at that particular part of the Bahrain International Circuit, but keeping the thing on the track was still my number one priority. It's a bit hard to pretend that you're Nick Heidfeld when you are bouncing towards a sand dune.
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