COLIN CLARK

“Time to panic: I headed straight for the barrier...”

I know, I’m a bit odd for a motorsport correspondent. I really don’t like to drive fast. I know my limitations, my skills behind the wheel only just about stretch to negotiating the daily school run. And sometimes, even with that relatively simple motoring challenge, I fail.

I’ve been traumatised by rally drivers, yes, thank you very much Hayden Paddon. And I’m not too much of a bloke to admit that those were genuine tears of terror when you took me for a wee spin in your Hyundai i20 WRC in Finland a few years back.

I get more than my fair share of thrills by immersing myself in the world of rally and marvelling at the outrageous skills and talents of our rallying community. So hands up, deep down, I’m a coward. But I’m also a Scotsman, and a massively stereotypical Scotsman at that. And that’s where this little story starts – at the car rental desk in Geneva Airport. “Would you like a car with winter tyres sir?” asked the smilingly courteous desk boy. “It’s only an extra 150 Euros.” Bloody hell, don’t be daft, that’s more than I paid for the whole car for the week, why in the world would I shell out that much for four rings of deep cut rubber?

Oh my goodness, that was one very poor judgement call on my part.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon, Sebastien Ogier has just taken Monte Carlo win number seven after the most gloriously engaging battle throughout the course of the rally with Thierry Neuville. I’m back in Gap, just about to set off to return to Geneva – across the mountains.

Now, snow has been noticeable by its absence on this Monte, but this is the Alps, and it can come at any time. And Sunday afternoon, it dumped with startling speed and vengeance on my summer-tyre shod VW Polo.

I steadily climbed the hill through driving rain, then slippery sleet, and a few miles out of Gap, full on blizzard conditions. And that is when my wee Polo started telling me to think about plan B. The traction control went into overdrive, the tyres spun madly and I was going nowhere. Time to turn around and head back down the hill.

But heading downhill in full snow is so much more challenging than heading up hill. As I was to find out on the first hairpin. Now this was a steep hill, but I was only doing 20mph. There was a hairpin approaching. I applied the brakes, slowed the car and gently turned.

I’m a passenger. We actually sped up, with the wheels locked, the steering obsolete and I was heading straight for the concrete barrier.

It was time to panic. It didn’t last long though, because before I knew it, I’d smacked, banged, scraped, shuddered to a halt. I was in the barrier.

The Polo actually absorbed the majority of the impact, so having had a quick and sheepish check around, I was good to go. The moral of the story – don’t be so bloody Scottish all of the time.