"WRC drivers are a different breed”. It is probably the most overused comment on every rally video on YouTube. But with very good reason. You watch some of the runs and on-board footage where helicopters are trying to keep up, and it humbles you instantly. It makes your palms sweat just watching it on screen, so you could imagine the adrenaline rush one would get being inside one of these monsters.
Luckily, I had the opportunity to experience that in a Skoda Fabia RS Rally2, a full-bore WRC2 rally car based on the fourth-gen Skoda Fabia. And to make it even more exciting, it was piloted by former WRC2 champion and Skoda development driver Jan Kopecký. Safe to say, there were plenty of emergency “sick bags” on standby.
The Fabia in RS Rally2 spec gets the full rally treatment with a stripped-out interior, screens that read out what seems to be numbers from a space station, a roll cage welded in, a 291hp, 430Nm 1.6-litre turbocharged engine and a soundtrack to die for. Fast doesn’t even begin to describe this Frankenstein.
As I wrapped my face in a balaclava and snuck a helmet onto my head, I could hear the exhaust and subsequent fireworks from almost a mile away. In no time, the cherry red Fabia appeared out of a corner with a cyclone of dust and braked hard three feet from me.
As I watched another journalist creep out as though he’d seen a ghost, it was time for me to ride the lightning. Climbing into a rally car with 35.8 metres of roll cage requires gymnast-level flexibility, and once in, you are strapped to the race seat via a three-point harness that feels like being crushed by an anaconda. Gasping for breath, I managed a customary nod at the Czech champ and prayed that he would go flat-out. And boy, did he oblige! With the engine screaming at the start line and handbrake on its last threads, he let it rip.
The first 50-60 meters were a complete blur, and for a moment, I thought my spine was intertwined with my heart. Thankfully, a quick braking point restored everything to default. The sheer raw pace and acceleration are what astonish you at first, and then there was Jan, who looked like he was on a Sunday drive to the market. The grip from the tyres and the stiffness of the suspension make you feel you’re on rails through the bends. As he yanked the handbrake for a hairpin turn, I could feel a wheel lift off, but before I could react, we were on a straight with dips and crests.
The sweet sound of the turbo flutter was equivalent to birds chirping as we ripped through the forest with Jan yanking on the 5-speed sequential transmission. On roads which you would drive at 40kph, Jan was blasting over 165kph before slamming the brakes and throwing the damn thing sideways. I was yelling and screaming, but all in vain as the engine drowned out every sound.
Two rapid corners later, the Fabia screeched onto the final start/finish straight and almost threw me out the windshield as he braked from 140kph to a dead halt. I was speechless. We exchanged a gentlemanly handshake, which was basically me admitting I’d never be able to drive like he does. I crawled out of the scaffolding, and while my body settled every part in place, I joined a dejected group of journalists who thought they were top drivers until they actually met one.
As Jan took off on yet another jaunt to humble another one of us pretenders, it became clear that just having a fast car isn’t enough. You need to be special to do what these guys do. Committed, skilled and, of course, a different breed.
