2019-08-01_Men_s_Health_South_Africa

MH.CO.ZA/ August 2019 125

FUUUUU –

We’re airborne. I’m a passenger in a

supercar with the roof down and we’re

hurtling down the side of this mountain.

I noticed the speedometer at 170km/h

before I saw the road snake hard to the

right, a sickening feeling flooding my

body as we start... flying. My eyes clamp

shut, I bear-hug myself, willing my 1.8m

frame to disappear.

• UUUUUCK! I am going to die. I

assumed if I ever died in a car, I’d be the

one driving. Let it be quick. I don’t want

to slowly asphyxiate after breaking my

neck. That would suc –

A massive impact jerks the car

around. My butt lifts out of the seat but

the seat belt pins me. It feels like piano

wire trying to split me. Ambient light

seeping through my clenched eyelids

vanishes. It’s dark, and we’re still

careening at extreme speed.

Did we just roll? Are we upside down?

We are inverted and not slowing down.

Another enormous bang and we’re

right side up again, per my internal

gyroscope. We’re still airborne and

there’s a moment of nothingness,

just whooshing wind and that

stomach-dropping feeling, like on an

amusement park ride that plummets

you 15 stories in five seconds. Is this like

the eye of the storm, the calm before shit

gets real? Will the landing be what kills

me? When will we lan—

An explosive thud, and we’re rolling

over again. I can’t take much more.

Please, let this end. We slam around

again, and finally come to a creaking

rest. I blink twice, recalibrating my

eyes, blinded by the bright sunlight.

We’re right side up. Smoke from the

airbags and a cloud of dust envelop the

chirping car in a hazy cloud, but it’s not

on fire. Small victory there. My eyes

survey my body for blood or compound

fractures. No visible wounds. Next,

I spastically fire each of my limbs,

praying for painless function. Success.

My fingers frantically spider over my

face, feeling for gashes or anomalies.

Normal. The driver checks out, too.

I close my eyes. For the first time

since the car left the road, I exhale.

The recovered

McLaren 570S,

missing the front

fascia and still

wearing a coating

of mountain dirt.

SPEED