5pm, Silverstone – Andrew Frankel reports
It was only on the last sublime lap, where the car’s speed and the angle of the oncoming corner were so utterly impossible to reconcile, that I forgot who was at the wheel.
As Bridge hove into view after a terrifying right-hand flick at the end of Farm Straight, Senna had the Honda howling past 100mph. I was awestruck but not concerned. He had done as much on the last lap and I could still remember where he would brake, shed 30mph and guide the nose of the NSX to the apex and beyond. But it seemed Senna had forgotten.
As we sailed past the point of no return at unabated speed, my voice, which had tried to record every detail of this ultimate experience for posterity, fell silent on the tape recorder. The time for talking, it appeared, was over. I started to curse that devil within me that had sneakily switched out the Honda’s traction control before Senna climbed aboard.
Then I remembered the man sitting just an armrest away. The man with more pole positions than anyone else in history and more grand prix victories than all but the considerably older Alain Prost; the man treated with more respect and trepidation than any other in motor racing. I was about to find out why. In an instant my faith returned, and although I knew that not even Ayrton Senna could get the NSX through that corner at that speed, I also knew that, somehow, it would be all right.
He twisted the wheel into the corner and then he braked. As he did so, the rear of the Honda flew into its inevitable, almighty slide that said unequivocally: “I am taking you and Mr Senna off this track and I’m not coming back.”
Mr Senna, however, had other ideas and simply pressed the pause button. This facility, denied to you and me, allows the finest drivers in the world to slow down the action to a more manageable speed and, in the case of a fast-moving NSX tail, stop it altogether. With a twist of opposite lock and just the right amount of throttle, it slid no further. It didn’t come back; there was no need. It just hung there in a state of suspended animation, a few degrees off line, waiting until the nose kissed the rumble strip on the apex before snapping straight as we swept back towards the pits.