Classic Cars & Practical Classics.pdf

It’s no wonder you feellike part of the carSuspension of belief:you can tackle anycorner in the TyrrellConfidence grows with theincreasing downforceMICHELE ALBORETO AND TYRRELL 012-1Michele Alboreto drove for theTyrrell team from 1981 to 1983.Born in Italy on December 23, 1956,Alboreto was a highly talenteddriver with a particularly smoothstyle. Enzo Ferrari compared himto the great Alberto Ascari - highpraise indeed.He won the Italian F3 andEuropean F3 Championships in1980 and began his Formula Onecareer in 1981 when he drove aTyrrell 011 alongside Eddie Cheever.His first F1 win was in 1982 atLas Vegas and the second win,at Detroit a year later, has thedistinction of being the last victoryfor the iconic Cosworth V8.In 1983 Alboreto’s Tyrrell 012-1would have been up against 1982champion Keke Rosberg’s Williams,Nelson Piquet in a turbochargedBrabham, Nigel Mansell’s Renault,Rene Arnoux’s Ferrari and NikiLauda’s McLaren. His 1983 Detroitwin was the last non-turbo F1 winbefore the turbo cars were phasedout once again in 1988.In 1984 Alboreto left Tyrrell todrive for Ferrari, and in 1985 hefinished runner-up to Alain Prost inthe F1 World Championship. In 1989he returned to Tyrrell briefly andretired from F1 in 1994.In 1997 Alboreto won Le Mansin a Joest-Porsche TWR WSC andin 2001 he won the 12 Hours ofSebring, driving an Audi R8.Michele Alboreto died aged44 while testing an R8 on theLausitzring track near Dresden,Germany on April 24, 2001.With no clutch slip, no kangaroo stalling, the Tyrrell pulls offsmoothly. I trundle out on to the track, snick the lever forward,across then forward into second, with a satisfying clunk-ka-clunk.The Tyrrell feels just marvellous, and before I enter Curborough’sfirst tight left, I give it a bit of a squirt in second. Brake for the right,squirt again, clip the apex and position the car for another squirt tothe next apex on the left-hander. The grip seems unbreakable. I skirtthe rumble strips and sense my whole being settling within the car,like I am wearing it.Into the big hairpin, I turn in early, boot it and the tail moves alittle. A couple of corrective flicks of the wheel, the perfect balanceof just enough grip and just enough sliding. Poetry in blessedmotion. The Tyrrell is spat out of the corner on to the straight andI am smiling. My right palm flicks it back into third, I engage theclutch again, and plonk my right foot down. The mechanical slidethrottleLucas fuel injection is instant, the acceleration is staggering.I am at the end of the straight with 6K up and going into that longright-hander again. This time, just coming off the throttle won’tcrack it. I brake, heel-and-toe down to second and thankfully theTyrrell responds. These pedals feel like they have been tailored tomy feet. The brakes seemed good from the off, but now they’vewarmed a bit they are light with lashings of feel and give a greatfeeling of security. The steering is beautifully light and perfectlyresponsive. It’s almost as if those big slicks are alive, sending zillionsof instant psychic messages through the rack, up the steeringcolumn, into the Momo wheel and to my little grey cells.With my helmet and earplugs in place I don’t so much hear theDFV directly behind my head but feel it throughout my whole body.It’s like there’s a rocket strapped directly behind me. Under hard84