My first ride with a World Rally champion

An early alarm call and voyage into the Alps beckoned the following morning; the sight of Hyundai service trucks indicating that we had made it. Out we got to scope out our surroundings for the day, but realizing I’d forgotten my bag I headed back to the car and a familiar face was coming the other way: Mr Fourmaux.

Handshake and ‘happy new year’ pleasantries done, I walked the opposite direction blown away by how comfortable the Frenchman already looks in this team despite not starting a WRC event for it yet. His team-mate was the one who was camping in my head rent-free, though.

Neuville accidentally became something of an obsession for me. Casually flicking through Instagram stories, I noticed Thierry had posted. He’d be with us at 11.35am, half an hour from now.

At this point, we were well up a road which would tick a bucket list item for both Eliot Barnard (DirtFish head of video) and I as Fourmaux got his eye in. Even though it would be hours yet before it was my turn in the car – Eliot sitting in with Fourmaux before Neuville gave me a spin – already I could feel the apprehension building in my body.

But I had to forget about it: we had a job to do, filming B-roll and pieces to camera for our video project.

The conditions were classic Monte and caked in snow, making the stage a real challenge. But Fourmaux was still desperately impressive as he snaked the i20 past us through a series of S bends. The rhythm of the car was majestic.

Walking to the next corner, we spotted a familiar face.

“Bonne année!” we shouted, greeting Alex Coria whose ride for the day was being poached. But he smiled at the prospect of the likes of me getting a feel for what he’s paid to do.

“For me I think it’s very important to enjoy the moment,” he advised me. “It’s a big chance for you to come in a car and as well also for me, it’s important that all the people and the media is coming in the car when they have time to.

“The season is long but too short, it passes quick, but now for sure it’s a good day for you I think.”

As I turn to walk away, Alex senses my nervous energy: “Just enjoy it,” he smiled. “It will be good fun.”

Of that I had little doubt, but I’m an introvert. As exciting an opportunity as this was going to be, being thrust into any sort of limelight doesn’t come easily to me.

We headed back towards the shed Hyundai had hired for the day to interview the drivers. My mind was back at ease: this was my comfort zone, and I had a good chat with both Neuville and Fourmaux as we stared at the jaw-dropping snow-covered mountains before us.

For the content, but secretly largely for myself too, I had to ask Neuville what I should expect alongside him.

“For you I put four slicks!” he grins.

Neuville chuckles, as do I but somewhat more sheepishly.

“I mean obviously we will be driving on snow, so it will be not very fast and maybe even a bit slower with the Hankooks,” he continues, “but yeah just try to feel the flow and wave to the spectators.”

In the end, it was Thierry who did the thumbs up and waving as things got a bit hairier than I’d wager he planned… but we’ll get to that shortly.

Now, it was lunchtime – and if interviewing drivers is my comfort zone, this definitely is. Having skipped breakfast to try and be as lightweight as possible, I was starving and had no issue putting away a plate of pasta and salad with a few slices of brie. We were in France after all!

Belly full, I made my way to the storage room where a pair of Hyundai Motorsport overalls were waiting for me. Balaclava sourced and helmet fitted, it was time to don the overalls and make sure I was ready for the call up. And so the waiting game began.

I should’ve checked my daily steps before and after lunch, as I’m sure I clocked a few thousand in this relatively small time window, endlessly pacing around with my nerves firmly winning their battle against my brain.

I’m lucky enough to have been a passenger in a rally car before. I’ve even competed as both a driver and co-driver, but I hate being powerless to control a situation. I knew I was going to be getting in the car soon, so I just wanted to be in it. The waiting around for it to happen was eating away at me.

But then the unmistakable rumble of a Hyundai Rally1 car broke the heavy breathing: Neuville was back. It wouldn’t be long now. Eliot ushered me outside to shoot a sequence for the video, and I was awful. I just couldn’t really concentrate. I felt self-conscious. I felt out of place.

The car, weirdly, would be my saviour here. In there, it’s just me, Thierry and the camera recording us – but that beats physical people looking at me. Of course they weren’t looking at me, but that’s what it felt like.

So with a bout of Dutch courage I walked over to the car, pulled my balaclava over my face and strapped up my helmet. My mouth was dangerously dry and my demeanour embarrassingly awkward, but the silence was calming.

I’d remembered this feeling from when I competed a year and a half ago. With the helmet on, you’re disconnected from the outside world and all of your thoughts associated with it. You can’t hear it, and you’re essentially no longer part of it when travelling down a road faster than should be possible in a rally car.

But first, I had to get in the car. With their advanced roll cages, this isn’t the simplest task in a Rally1 car – and predictably I messed it up.

“Lower your arse in more!” shouted a mechanic.

Backside lowered, a new problem presented itself. Shall we just say Rally1 cars aren’t designed with gentlemen the size of me in mind. A fair bit of padding needed to be removed to actually get me in – and my chauffeur noticed it.

Sauntering over, as calm as you like, Neuville peers into the cockpit, turns to Eliot’s rolling camera and asks: “He’s fitting in the seat, or… we need to buy an extra large?”

It was like a scene from The Office. And Neuville wasn’t done.

“Looks like he fits, [but] we don’t need seat belts, he is properly fitted!”

The worst bit is I had no right of reply. I couldn’t hear a word of it, instead sitting there helplessly as Hyundai’s best worked hard to strap me in comfortably. I am that cliché who’s trying to lose weight as a new year turns; this only served as extra motivation.

I digress. Finally, little old me was belted into a cabin usually reserved for heroes. Immediate impressions? It’s bare. There are a few screens displaying data I was never going to pretend I could understand and of course the sequential shifter and handbrake positioned between driver and co-driver, but it’s an intimate place to be. Even my feet were narrowly wedged together on the kickplate which contained buttons for the wipers and something else, which embarrassingly I can’t remember such was my anticipation.

The door shuts, and Neuville clunks the car into reverse. The sound of sequential gears being selected at a standstill is one of life’s simplest and greatest pleasures. But even the tempo at which Neuville did it was a tell-tale sign of who I was dealing with here.

With the utmost respect to the handful of drivers I’ve been lucky enough to sit with before, this was like meeting the final boss. It was the equivalent of taking penalty kicks at Iker Casillas, or playing a doubles match with Novak Djokovic.

We trundled our way out of the garage and towards the stage, and radio communications opened up between Thierry and the sweeper car ahead of us. As daft as this might sound, it’s exchanges like this where I realized just who was sitting next to me. You really can’t see a lot either side of you with the wings on the seats, tightness of the seatbelts and design of the HANS device restricting head movement.

But yep, there was no mistaking it. Those gloves really do say ‘Thierry’ on them, and that really was his voice. Wow.

Travelling to the stage with the world champion is a bonus I wasn’t expecting, so I needed to take the opportunity to ask him some questions about what he would be doing if this were a real rally. But before I get the chance, the Belgian slams his right foot to the floor and slams his left one even harder on the brakes. OK, he’s not messing about! We are in the full warm-up phase.

The violence of this sequence of events serves as the perfect appetiser. It dawns on me how comfortable an environment this is for Thierry. Everything he’s about to show me is simply a walk in the park to him, yet a mind-blowing experience for me.

We reach the start of the designated stage, but have to wait a few minutes to get going. Suddenly, I can appreciate the frustration drivers feel when stage starts are delayed; all that work to warm the car up and get in the zone evaporating with every passing second.

I relay my observations to Thierry, but his answers are getting shorter. The concentration is increasing, and just like that we get the clearance to go.

Neuville wastes little time in getting on with it. First, second and third gears are dealt with ridiculously quickly as my world goes into warp speed. What must this acceleration have been like when hybrid was still around?

There’s no time to think about that, as we’re into an S-bend and Neuville’s playing with the car, manipulating the throttle as we slide through the switchbacks. Need I remind you there are snowbanks lining either side of the road – this is perhaps the only pure section the sun has managed to melt as the day progressed. But the fog is descending, just adding to the challenge.

We’re on Hankook’s winter tire that features studs, but on a road as white as this any rubber was going to struggle. Still, Thierry’s pushing the car from bend to bend, beginning to talk me through the importance of visibility and finding the ruts in the road to gain the bite he needs.

The view ahead was deceptively Sweden-esque, corners defined by the height and structure of snowbanks rather than what lay beneath them. On a snowy surface like this, the brutality of before has been traded for what can only be described as a dance as we slide from corner to corner. It starts to feel like I’m on a (rare) really, really good run on EA Sports WRC, yet it’s all happening for real. How someone can have the skill to control a car like this, and more importantly the belief that the car can actually handle this, is staggering.

But even world champions make mistakes.

We’re approaching the half-way point of the three-mile route, and with vision clouded by the fog we are staring at what can only be described as a plain-white haze. Corners are hard to pick out, particularly when you’ve got a stunned journalist sitting beside you instead of Martijn Wydaeghe.

“Houp-là!” Neuville cries as he immediately spots what’s going to happen. It doesn’t take long for it to dawn on me either that the left-hander we’re approaching isn’t the one he thought it was.

(Houp-là by the way translates as ‘whoops’ in English. My internet search history is interesting trying to nail the exact French expression he used!)

Opposite lock engaged and pedal to the metal, Neuville does his best but is powerless to avoid our fate. The rear of the car drifts into the bank on the outside, pulls the front around and we spin. Not a part of the authentic rally experience that was sold to me, but I’ll take it!

My emotions don’t really change, despite the drama. My hands are still glued to my knees as I remain locked in a rigid, silent state; struggling to comprehend where I am and what’s happening to me. It’s as if my life had been uncontrollably sped up with my brain was left back at the start-line, only to be returned to my head five minutes after I’d got out of the car.

Neuville’s emotions don’t flicker either – granted we’re not in a competition, but it’s a great example of the composure world champions have. Despite a stall, he’s as calm as you like as he flicks the car around on the handbrake and mashes the throttle to be greeted with significant wheel spin; his Hyundai desperate for some Tarmac to bite into. Traction salvaged, we’re on our way again as if nothing ever happened.

Eyes still firmly on stalks, I decide to avert my gaze to the work Neuville puts into the control, and what a treat it is to watch his hands and feet at work and the results they can achieve. Snowbanks are played with as if we’re testing for Sweden; the thrill of the thud as Neuville swipes one on my side, using it to straighten the car, is instantly addictive.

More reminders of the conditions are served via the feeling of fresh snow hitting my face through the roof vent as the Hyundai works its way down the road. This really was one of those times where I wasn’t Luke Barry the rally journalist, but Luke Barry the lifelong rally obsessive who still can’t believe the access he has to this sport.

Still unable to digest the assault my senses were being hit with, we’re suddenly back at the start and Neuville pulls the bar to spin us around 180-degrees. I shake his hand, preparing to get out and gather myself together. But little did I know I’d be staying in for another run.

The car’s hoisted up at the front, then the rear, as the Hyundai mechanics check everything over. Eliot pokes his camera in to try and capture some of my thoughts, but just like right now through the medium of writing (which I usually find the best way to convey my emotions), I just couldn’t find anything coherent to say. How do you sum up an experience like this?

The Hyundai hits the ground, and Neuville’s itching to get back to it. “All good for you?” he quizzes. “Yep.”

Allez. Doors slammed shut, we’re locked in. My head is glued to the back of my seat once more as Neuville unleashes everything he has beneath his right foot.

There are no incidents this time around, but a couple more ‘houp-làs’ as even I can feel the grip available is not as good. “Can you see how much worse it’s getting with the fog?” Thierry asks. I’m in no position to disagree. But I get my moment to step up; Thierry checking with me that the approaching corner is indeed the one that caught us out last time.

Even now, days after the experience, the whole thing doesn’t feel real. Eliot hooked me up with a screenshot from the crew-facing GoPro and every time I look at it, I can’t help but smile. There I am, sitting next to Thierry Neuville in a pukka, factory rally car.

I’m happy to report there is a smile etched across my face, too. I’m not someone who typically shows excitement outwardly; I feel it inside instead, or after a thrilling event has occurred. But there’s a first time for everything.

So as Thierry brings us back to safety, I let him know rather emphatically how special a talent he is – my emotion briefly getting the better of me as memories of watching Neuville when the WRC felt out of reach all hit me like an avalanche. The famous Corona incident in Mexico, that epic powerstage showdown with Ogier in Sardinia, his heroics in an M-Sport Fiesta.

I used to make video compilations and write terrible blog posts on this guy; now I’ve just sat next to him ahead of the defense of his World Rally Championship title.

So heading back down the mountain and back to base aboard the Hyundai minivan as media guru Seb Scott played with the happy stick through the tight hairpins, the vibe was immaculate. For everyone else, at least.

Normally, I’d have loved it too. But today it wasn’t quite cutting it as a thrill. How could it, when an hour earlier I’d just come up that same mountain with the World Rally champion in his Rally1 car?

Rallying remains one of the few sports on earth where simply doing it is a spectacle in itself. But to now have that appreciation of how the best of the best go about it is a privilege that’s not lost on me, I promise.

It’s a serious game for those at the sharp end of it. Drivers, co-drivers, team personnel, journalists – we are all extremely fortunate to call this sport our livelihoods, but as with any profession there are pressures associated that can sometimes cloud its beauty.

Saturday put that all back into perspective. I’m left with magical memories and insights into how it feels to be one of our heroes. What’s incredible is, in Rally1 terms, this was slow. These cars and drivers are capable of so much more; maybe one day I’ll unlock the honor of that experience too.

For now, all I can express is a massive thank you to Hyundai Motorsport and an even bigger thank you to Thierry Neuville.

(And to answer the really important question here, yes we did pick up some corn on the cob despite my reticence.)