Tuesday 23^rd March: Oulton Park, despite the bitter winter recently endured, is already ringed by a host of daffodils, shining brightly like so many tiny street lights.  The famous copse of Oak trees that shrouds the difficult and dangerous Druids bend is however still bare, dark and foreboding.  At 08.00 I study my newly minted race licence and copy carefully the six digit number onto the circuit’s official “signing on” papers; at 0805 I treat myself to a bacon and sausage bap.

Over to the Racing Line garage where Matt, Andy, Richard Howson (who will be my personal technician for the season) and the rest of the team are already busy preparing the four cars that RL is running today.  There are other VW Cup teams here too, with about a dozen of the championship entrants (current total 29) running their cars.

A watery sun tries to heat the Tarmac, but the air temperature is only eight degrees and as I slide into the seat at five minutes to nine, Richard reminds me that cold secondhand slicks mean that the first laps will feel like I’m driving “on ice”.  He’s right, but in fact I’m over-cautious and my first session is rubbish as I fail to generate any meaningful heat into the Hankooks.

The second session is better as the track is warming, but trying to emulate one of the faster Golfs is nearly my undoing and I run out of road at the exit of the third gear Lodge Corner.  The car hops over the exit kerb onto the “grasscrete” that lies in wait, with malevolent intent, for errant race cars.  At more than 100kph the car slides and bucks before I can guide it back onto the black stuff.  Next time round I notice plastic debris on the track – I say a silent goodbye to another front splitter moulding.  It will be missed, but at £200 a pop, replacement of what is essentially a cosmetic part will not be a high priority.

During the day, I’m overtaken by many and overtake a few.  The Team’s (unofficial) timing suggests that I have set my personal best time around this track – this makes me happy.  In context, I’m a long way behind the front runners, but I do feel there is a chance that on the big day I will find some cars to race with.

By the time of my fourth 30 minute run, a severe vibration is suggesting that the brake discs have warped, but just as I’m thinking of driving back into the pit lane, it begins to rain.  Still on dry weather slicks I decide to continue, driving as hard as the fading brakes will allow.  The surface gets wetter and the tyres begin to lose temperature; soon I’m playing truth or dare with the changing grip level.  If rain does come during a race, this experience could be useful, but it’s a mentally demanding exercise.  As the track gets wetter, I struggle to process the grip data that the car is feeding back to me while simultaneously dealing with my imagination, yelling at me to slow down before something bad happens.  After three laps of this torment, I’m relieved to see the chequered flag that ends the session and the day.

The Team takes shelter in the garage as rain falls heavily.  Drivers and technicians talk.  I speak to Andy about the lessons we may have learned today; there are some options for chassis changes open to us, but eventually we decide not to change anything.   The pre-race job list for number 24 therefore, is a short one; we will fit new brakes and the Championship decal set.

So that’s it.  I’ve enjoyed two days of testing and at the end of them the decision we reach is to do nothing of any substance to the car.  At first I don’t get it, after all, if I need to go faster (and I do), why don’t we make some changes to the dampers, or the anti-roll bars, or the ride height, or something?  But then through the fog of fatigue that has suddenly enveloped me, I see the light.  We’re doing nothing to the car because at this stage the biggest room for improvement is still with the driver.

April 5^th edges closer.