By Mikhil Bhat/Doha


Anticipation is what brings the fear.
You are waiting for your turn, wearing a helmet that fits snug and blanks out ALL the noise. You end up listening to that annoying, yet inevitable, low frequency humming in your head.
Google says it’s some form of a condition of the ears which has a pretty unflattering name. You tell yourself - for romantic reasons - that it is the sound of silence. And despite these thoughts, your heart pounds harder and harder with every passing sight of that beast of a Toyota Hilux sliding around in the desert.
Beast, not only because of its size but also because it has been set up for the Sealine Cross Country Rally with a 5-litre, 8-cylinder engine whipping its 350 horses to work.
The Hilux belongs to Overdrive Racing, who have five entries in the event that kickstarts from Losail International Circuit.
The man at the wheel is Marek Dabrowski, a 42-year-old Polish driver who made the switch from bikes to cars one year ago. But that, by no means, is an indication of his prowess.
In his very first attempt on four wheels, he finished seventh overall in the 2014 Dakar Rally along with co-driver Jacek Czachor.
For Dabrowski, these taxi rides for media seemed nothing more than fun. At least his outfit of a shirt and a pair of shorts with a helmet seemed to suggest so.
And then you remember that before all the runs started, a mechanic had, with an almost demeaning measure, told him, “Don’t scare them, they are already scared.”
All in all, what would have excited, yet scared many who passed by the temporary rally route on their way to Messaieed or beyond, was child’s play for the cast and crew.
Back inside the helmet, you see a passenger get down from the Hilux with a body contorting movement that sends cringes and smiles across your face.
Entering and exiting a racing vehicle is nothing less than arduous (and ugly) movements for those watching. Among other things it is that one scale which tells you whether you are fit or otherwise without actually using a weighing scale.
If you get through easily, you get those quiet approving nods from those who know. If you don’t, almost everyone looks away because the sight is not pretty.
Here’s how it’s done: hold the crossbar, right foot on the footboard, lift yourself up, left foot inside the vehicle, turn your body sideways, slip in to the seat and lift your right leg over the roll cage into the car.
Done. Sigh.
Inside, it is a cocoon, the not-so-comfortable kinds, with only the bare essentials available. The five-point seatbelt and the seat itself are designed to keep you from bobbing around while the driver and the vehicle go around their business.
Between the driver and the passenger are two of the most used levers in rallying — gear and hand-brake.
The doors close with a thud, and the silence is interrupted with the sound of the revving engine.
First gear. Looks exchanged with the Dabrowski. A thumbs up. And off we go.
Now, there are production road cars which accelerate and decelerate VERY QUICKLY. But what these racing vehicles can do is plain… what’s the right word??… Savage.
Past runs in a Radical SR3 with former Formula One driver Jean Alesi and a Porsche 911 GT with Saudi driver Faisal Binladen said, the first five-ten seconds, when the car accelerates brutally, are key to whether you will puke or not.
With the mechanic’s word still lingering in his head, Dabrowski doesn’t unleash the savagery but cajoles the machine into some sharp turns and fast straight runs, interspersed with some quick gear changes.
After the first few moments have passed and after you have felt the ease with which the vehicle moves over the rough terrain, the kid inside you wants a more exciting joyride.
A small, rough dune approaches. The kind you know from watching rallies on the television will get your machine to fly, but Dabrowski has other ideas. He cuts left and steps on the gas once again to get the vehicle to slide around and kick up a dust storm.
And then you see nothing in front of you, except, well, dust.
But that does not stop Dabrowski from surging ahead into what you think is the unknown but the map in his head tells him it is the right way.
Out of that cloud, you clap and make any gesture that you think will get the Pole to go faster. This time, he pays heed. Faster he goes. 110 kmph. 111. 112…119… Ahh, damn those markers, which force him to go right.
The last stretch in sight, he steps on the gas once again. He goes flat out around a bush, sliding around to touch 137kmph before you realise, it’s time to get off.
He looks at you and asks if you enjoyed the ride with a thumbs up. You reciprocate, knowing you want more. Much more.