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Clunk.
The legendary Welsh rally driver, sat to my left, drops his Mitsubishi Evo
9 into first gear. Ahead of us is a straight stretch of tarmac that reaches
into the distance and over an incline.
“
Ready?” asks Gwyndaf.
“
Yep.”
We launch forward, reaching 0-60mph in just over four seconds. We blitz through
the gears. 80.90.100.110. I’m becoming moulded into my bucket seat. The
brow of the hill flies up. I grip my seat. 120.130. Over the hill. Road opens
up. JESUS! Fecking hay bales in the road! He hasn’t seen them! He hasn...
Gwyndaf slams on his brakes, lurching my body forward. Then, incredibly, with
the deftest of touches he lines the car up and floors the accelerator. We blast
through the hay chicane, missing the stacks either side by a matter of millimetres.
For a moment I relax.
Then he throws the car into a sharp right, sliding us sideways at speed over
the grass and onto the dirt track. Accelerating, we straighten up onto the
back straight and open the throttle.
I’ve spent many an evening on driving games on my PlayStation. Up until
now, rallying consisted of pressing the ‘X’ button and pointing
the car in more or less the right direction. This is different. Very different.
As we reach 130mph we hit a mound in the road and for a few seconds, we are
at one with the birds. I imagined how cool we must have looked as we sailed
through the air like one of those slow-motion James Bond scenes. Crunch. Back
to the dirt track and a hairpin approaching fast. Very fast. The brakes are
nailed at the last possible second, and we slide through a series of hairpin
bends. Grunting on the accelerator but still in control, Gwyndaf dances on
the pedals like Fred Astaire, sliding the car through the tight S-bends and
skids to a stop. The engine idles calmly as if nothing has happened. Suddenly
it’s quiet.
“
You OK?” asks Gwyndaf. “Yup” I say, remembering how to speak.
I’m at the Welsh Motor Show to catch up with Wales’ godfather of
rally, Gwyndaf Evans. I’m having second thoughts about my idea of an
in-car interview, though. While we are waiting for clearance for a second run,
I ask him why the car is a left-hand drive. Gwyndaf, ever the gentleman replies: “I’ll
tell you after. I need to concentrate.” I grip my seat and we have lift-off
once more.
Track. Blur. Skid. Dust. Sky. Grass.
After steadying myself with a strong coffee, I take my chauffeur through a few
questions. Your man Gwyndaf has been driving ever since his feet could reach
the pedals of a car. “I grew up on a farm: at the age of 10 I was taking
out a relative’s car across the fields. It gave me good grounding when
I think about it: the car would slide a lot and I got used to handling a car
in that way.” He was then banger racing at the age of 15.
Like any true master of their art, Gwyndaf has grafted the hard way. “Bad
days have thankfully been few and far between. They came mostly at the beginning
of my career when I realised that I wanted to become a driver but had no means
or funds to go forward and do it.”
However, his desire and commitment paid off. “It was just before Christmas
1989 when I got the call from Fordworks asking me if I wanted to become a full-time
development driver and rally driver. It was all my previous 25 Christmases all
rolled into one. I could hardly believe it!”
Read the full interview in the current issue of RedHanded.
FULL THROTTLE
Patric Morgan hangs on by the seat of his pants as Welsh rallying legend Gwyndaf Evans takes him for a spin