WEIGHTLIFTING
Who’s the strongest of them all? Rallycross-style weightlifting should settle it
TEAM AMERIKA 1ST
Reverse psychology came into play during the weightlifting – for this we needed someone who could pilot the AmeriKa through a complex course, while not adding any actual extra weight. As our lightest crew member, Sam Burnett stepped up and was masterful. A neat, precise lap with all four tyres rubbing in the arches ensued, with a hearty BANG over the back hill that had us thinking that either Sam had rolled or snapped the car in half. He hadn’t, though we’re still not sure what position we finished in, simply because we were laughing too hard at Sam’s face over the final – large – bumps. We’ve since christened the expression ‘fearful constipation’.
TEAM GERMANY 2ND
The A6’s commodious boot swallowed the sacks of sand wonderfully. Given it’s done a quarter million miles in its life, it’s probably done endless runs of the M4 corridor with a urinal cube salesman behind the wheel and a boot full of citrusy yellow bricks. Or bodies. The suspension wasn’t as happy; groaning as the wheels smacked the top of the arches and the bump stops gave each other high fives. Still, Simon Bond’s commitment and local course knowledge brought home another solid second. See, consistency is key. And possibly chemo, given the black death now being belched from in, under and out the back of the car. RH
TEAM JAPAN 3RD
We had assumed that the Mazda MX-5’s boot would be too small to swallow all 350kg of ballast that the TopGear Summer Games weightlifting committee required, and so hoped it would be spread around the cabin for better weight distribution. Alas, the strongman squeezed every last kilo into the back – damn you Mazda and your practical convertibles – and the subsequent rear suspension sag gave the impression that the MX-5 had forgotten how to bow. The crash of metal on Lincolnshire rock could be heard at Mazda’s Hiroshima HQ, and upon crossing the line I realised my phone had pocket dialled 999. A demonstration of commitment, but some semblance of mechanical sympathy hampered our speed.
TEAM GB 4TH
I was quietly confident going into the weightlifting. After all, the mighty TXII was designed specifically to ferry the world’s weightiest tourists and their oversized baggage around the West End, so it ought to have no problem with a few kilos of sand. But I’d still need to deploy Full Send to overcome the performance deficit laid bare by the drag race. So when the flag dropped I buried my foot in the bulkhead and kept it there for, ooh, 90 per cent of the run. With a time only a second off the MX-5’s, I claim the moral victory. If not an actual victory.