There will never be another sport compact car like the 2000 British Touring Car Championship-winning Ford Mondeo. Built when budgets were on the silly side of ridiculous, it's the ultimate expression of a hatchback, and for the Goodwood Festival of Speed, I'm the designated driver.
I can remember watching this car in its pomp, when it was piloted by Alain Menu, the Swiss driver who really should be in Formula One. Now in semi-retirement, it's part of a Ford display that horseshoes around the front of Goodwood House, the home of the Festival's patron, the Earl of March.
The Mondeo is being smothered by a crowd when I arrive. Faces are pushed against the windows as enthusiasts take a peek at the carbon-fiber cockpit. The doors lack a lock and there's no security, but people show the cars plenty of respect. Access is central to Goodwood's appeal and its popularity would decrease if these rights were rebuked.
Dave Wilcock, who was the chief mechanic for the car back in 2000 wanders over to shake my paw. He works for Prodrive and has been tasked with engineering the car for the Festival. The Ford may look like a Mondeo, but nearly every part is bespoke.
"We had a budget of #8M ($13M) for a three-car team in 2000," he explains. "It took six people just to keep it rolling." Wilcock opens the hood to illustrate his point. Inside is a compact carbon-fiber box mounted in the bottom rear corner of the bay. It hides a V6 that was originally sourced from Mazda. Ford had also used the engine in the Probe coupe, so it could be homologated for competition use.
"It was originally a 2.5, but we reduced it to 2.0-liters to fit with the regulations," says Wilcock. "We used a standard casting, but the cylinder head was completely revised. Forty individual parts were welded to the head and the process was so complex that just one in three of the heads we produced was of sufficient quality to be used on the car. The rest were just thrown away. At the time, a Touring Car cylinder head was more expensive than those used in Formula One."
Unsurprisingly, the price of each unit was astronomical. "A new engine cost about #85,000 ($138,000) and a rebuild took a week," he continues. "It was a crazy time."
The crowd turns its attention to this mighty slab of automotive art. I'm intrigued by the driveshaft, which seems to disappear through the heart of the engine. "We were determined to keep the center of gravity as low as possible," says the engineer. "So we devised a way of feeding the driveshaft through the Vee. The rear bank of cylinders had to be tilted through four degrees to make it fit." Never has the concept of a front/mid-engined car been so amply demonstrated.
Back in 2000, power outputs were guarded with feverish intensity. The manufacturer quoted 300 bhp, but Wilcock admits that the true output was 315 bhp, with 221 lb-ft of torque. Given that the Mondeo has a weight of 2,326 pounds including the driver, the power-to-weight ratio is an unspectacular 299 bhp/metric ton but these cars were built for agility rather than straight line thrust.
The bodyshell also warrants a story. "We went to the Ford plant in Genk," says Wilcock. "We removed all the unnecessary hinges and worked out the minimum tolerance levels. Then, over a Bank Holiday, we shut down the main production line and built 100 special bodyshells to last us a season. Only Ford could do that."
His favorite anecdote, though, concerns the rear windscreen wiper. "We were testing at Snetterton circuit and we were way off the pace. We'd tried just about everything so someone suggested that we put the rear windscreen wiper on. The cars went back out and suddenly jumped 10 places to eighth and ninth. The wind tunnel showed that it was worth 3 kg of rear downforce, which just shows how critical this thing is. Of course, we later hollowed out the wiper."
So much for the theory, it's time for my first run. The car will run twice today (Friday) and then I'll return to the track on Sunday. I scramble on board and sink into the Sparco seat. After attaching the steering wheel, I find myself peering awkwardly over the top of the carbon-fiber fascia. "I can't see anything," I mutter to anybody who'll listen. "Don't worry," says Wilcock, "we designed it like that to keep the center of gravity low. You'll not think about it on the track."
The crowd parts like the Red Sea and a marshal beckons me forward. I'm to run in the same batch as the 2003 Focus WRC and the '66 Le Mans-winning GT40. A series of toggle switches activates the ignition and fuel pumps, before a solitary button kicks life into the V6. The throttle is extraordinarily sensitive and the engine responds angrily to my clumsy right foot. I slip the clutch and stall. "Don't worry," yells Wilcock, "it's like a switch." I try again and stall again. Through my helmet, I can make out the titters of the crowd. At least they can't see my anguished expression.
If you want to show the world that you're incapable of driving a $13M racecar, then this would be a good place to start. At the best estimate, there are 60,000 enthusiasts here today. Deep breath. This time we're moving and with a jab of the throttle I exit the paddock and make my way to the start line.
It's approaching 40 degrees in the cockpit but the adrenaline is pumping and I need the toilet. A marshal's uplifted thumb is the signal to start. I feather the clutch and creep off the line as the engine bogs. Now it's pulling and the deep base grumble gives place to an intense scream. I tug the gear lever backwards to select the second of six sequential gears, without releasing the throttle or using the clutch. Then it's hard on the middle pedal, trying to kick some life into the still cold brakes.
Now turn in. Feed the power and struggle with the torque steer as the four racing wets search for grip. Up to third. I'm doing around 100 mph but the proximity of the crowd and the narrow gauge of the track exaggerates the sense of speed. I'm lining up a left-hander when, in my peripheral vision, I catch sight of a red flag. I slow quickly and a marshal arrives to direct me off the track.
The car in front, a Ford Sierra RS500 driven by Touring Car legend Andy Rouse, has speared off the road and undergone an instant restyle. My run is aborted and I'm pushed back to the paddock by the marshals. On my return I'm greeted by Wilcock who's surprised that we're still in one piece. "When I saw the red flag, I presumed that it was you and not Andy [Rouse] who'd hit the bails," he says with a huge grin.
Later in the day, I'm offered a re-run, and this time, I complete the course. My performance wasn't timed but I'm no doubt a world away from the course record of 41.6 seconds at 100.4 mph set by Sauber F1 star Nick Heidfeld in a McLaren MP4/13. But at least I didn't stuff it - Wilcock admitted that Prodrive lacked the parts, the manpower and the budget to rebuild it.
The parade back to the paddock proves just as enjoyable as the sprint to the top. The marshals wave, the crowd cheers and as my ego inflates, I'm given an insight into the life of a racing great.
When I return to the paddock, a grown man even asks for my autograph. I point out that I'm a nobody but his enthusiasm is undiminished. "But you might become somebody," he exclaims, as I sign my name next to that of ex-GP star Jochen Mass. Another guy then asks me to pose with his girlfriend for a photograph. "She just wants anybody in a race suit," he explains, somewhat alarmingly. Such incidents epitomize the spirit of Goodwood. It's one of the few top motoring events where the public feels wanted and part of the action.
When Sunday arrives, Wilcock announces that the Mondeo has a cam problem and will have to be retired. It's a disappointment, but at least it leaves me free to watch the rest of the action. I'm back in civilian clothes and no longer one of the chosen few. The autograph hunters ignore me and the Mondeo sits forlornly below the 40-meter high sculpture depicting Ford's Le Mans victory of '66. It may not be as glamorous as the GT40s or the F1 cars, but it deserves its place in the sun. There will never be another car like it, just as there will never be another event like the Goodwood Festival of Speed.
What is the Goodwood Festival of Speed?
This year marked the 10th anniversary of the event hosted by the Earl of March. What began as a gathering of well-to-do enthusiasts has developed into a global jamboree of huge significance. The 1.16-mile course is effectively the Earl's driveway and winds its way past the front of his family home, Goodwood House. The proximity of the crowd helps to give it a unique character.
Jordan, BAR, Toyota, Williams and Ferrari demonstrated the latest F1 cars and seven current grand prix drivers turned up to drive them. They were joined by stars of yesteryear such as Sir Stirling Moss and John Surtees, who demonstrated the cars that made them famous. And it's just a utopia for car fans. Historic 'bikes were also in action and Aussie ace Mick Doohan commuted between Goodwood and the Moto GP at Donington Park.
For road car fans, there was also a supercar run. Walter Rohrl demonstrated the new Porsche Carrera GT, and the Mercedes SLR McLaren and Ferrari Enzo lined up alongside a Bentley Continental GT and a Pagani Zonda. There is no greater gathering of man and machine.