What it's like to drive a grand prix-winning F1 car

OK, that might be a slight lie, as regular readers may know I’ve been behind the wheel of an F4 car on a few occasions thanks to the Skip Barber Racing School. So that means I’m not overly upset that there is little track time in that machinery — one flying lap in total — having already kicked off the day with a similar run in an A110R to see the circuit layout.

At this point I’ll admit I’m not thinking about how little I had learned about the track, because the next step is GP2 machinery. A Dallara GP2/11 — last used in 2017 for the inaugural Formula 2 season — is a real step up from any single-seater I’ve driven before.

It simply looks more imposing, and a message from someone who has won in such a car, Jack Aitken, reminding me it would be harder to handle than the F1 car in many ways due to its lack of power steering, does little to calm my nerves.

But it’s a beautiful piece of kit. An F4 car feels like a Reliant Robin compared to the GP2 car’s modern saloon. A more refined cockpit and responsive steering are allied to a hand clutch that allows for a more comfortable two-pedal set-up.

Again, there are just three laps — out, full, and in — but by the start of the in-lap the smile on my face is enormous. I’m genuinely laughing at the scenario I find myself in as I round that same Turn 8 I was squinting at from afar the night before.

Part of the joy comes from the belief that I’m handling the GP2 well, and proving I can get behind the wheel of the F1 car, even if I still have no idea about references around the track.

And this isn’t going to be a case of driving just any F1 car. No, I might be getting the chance to drive the actual car that I watched race to a podium finish at the very first grand prix I covered in person as a journalist.

The 2012 Belgian Grand Prix is far better known for what the sister Lotus was involved in, with Romain Grosjean triggering a major first corner crash that wiped out title contenders Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso among others. It earned Grosjean a one-race ban, and overshadowed Kimi Räikkönen’s drive to third place behind a dominant Jenson Button and Sebastian Vettel.

It was a special weekend to be at a grand prix in a journalistic capacity for the first time, and my next trip was to India and Abu Dhabi that same year. The latter race saw Räikkönen’s iconic “Leave me alone, I know what to do” radio message as he took his first F1 victory since returning from a two-year break.

Those results came in the same chassis — E20-05 — and that was one of the two options that Alpine is running as part of the program. So when we reach that stage of the day, I’m not too proud to admit, I firmly place myself on the race-winning side of the garage, and would not have moved if anyone had asked.

That means my seat fit takes place in E20-05 and from this point I know I’m in good shape to drive it, if indeed I have proved myself capable in the few laps completed so far.

On a day as condensed as this one you’re never going to get the luxury of a full moulded seat, but in trying to get me positioned correctly I learn that the target viewpoint is to be able to see half of the Pirelli logo on the top of the front tyres.

I end up even closer to the wheel than in the F2 car, but it’s a reassuringly familiar position. This is a viewpoint we’re getting to see with increasing regularity thanks to the amazing helmet cameras bringing the sport to our living rooms each race weekend, so there’s nothing surprising about my vision, either.

Given the green light that I will be allowed to drive, there’s relief more than excitement, before a quick overview of a steering wheel that similarly doesn’t feel alien.

What does, though, is the acceleration.

I’ve had plenty of advice-givers suggest it will be the brakes or the cornering performance that will be most surprising about the F1 car, but when you’ve worked in the sport for even just a few years you’re fully aware that those would be special. Over two flying laps, though, you’re never going to truly push the aerodynamic potential unless you know the track like the back of your hand.

Mashing the right pedal to the floor in a straight line, however, is far easier to do. And what a thing to do.

Before getting in the car I was told about which lights on the wheel would indicate it was time to shift up, along with a beep in my ears. The shift indicators run from green, to red, to blue, and only after the green section was full would it be safe to shift, but the later the better.

It was great advice, except for the fact that the car accelerates so quickly the beeps come almost instantaneously. I put my foot down and feel like I’m flicking up through the gears as fast as you drop down them under braking, with that V8 screaming the whole time to add to the sensation of speed.

That’s a wrap on an amazing experience driving an @AlpineF1Team F1 car in Portimao

Plenty of features to come off the back of it, and a bunch of stories on my Instagram if you have nothing better to do with your Tuesday: https://t.co/b39OD6iYNf #F1 pic.twitter.com/ClkbDJhDd3

— Chris Medland (@ChrisMedlandF1) September 10, 2024

Something slightly less pleasant to indicate how fast you’re going comes courtesy of my helmet, that attempts to detach itself as the speed climbs. Lifting to the point that the chin obstructed my vision, it means having to get off the throttle long before any braking point, so the stopping power is frustratingly never felt to any great degree.

The helmet had felt tight, but according to former Alpine driver Esteban Ocon this is a clear sign it was nowhere near tight enough. At least it was on, though, as I’d climbed into the car originally with the straps undone as my mind raced with all of the different bits of information I’d been given.

The lack of visibility isn’t just an issue in terms of trying to pick a braking point, either, but in just keeping the car in a straight line. It’s extremely gusty in early September at Portimão and just holding the wheel down the pit straight is an ordeal as the car feels like it is dancing around in the tight grip of your hands. Relaxing is the key, but when you’re holding such an expensive and powerful piece of kit, that’s tough to do.

Rolling around carefully is hardly spectacular, but this isn’t an experience I want to tarnish with a spin into a gravel trap. If nothing else I’m fully aware that it takes huge amounts of skill and practice to be able to push an F1 car, and I was never going to get to do that over two full laps of a track I’d only previously completed three full laps of in total.

Climbing out, have I truly experienced an F1 car? Of course not, but I’ve been in full control of one. And I can now say I’ve driven the exact chassis that was a significant part of the season that started my journalistic career in earnest. Very few people can say that.