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producing a single carbon-fibre tub

probably costs about R140 000).

In the 570S Spider, the tub is the

stable, core building block upon which

bits are added to complete the chassis.

For example, the A-pillars – the sides

of the windshield – marry reinforced

aluminium to the tub. When I

expressed surprise that the pillars

didn’t crumple during our wreck,

because they had visible damage

from the impact, Wildig shared, “We

require those pillars to withstand

more than three times the weight of

the 570S being placed on the corner of

the windshield without breaking.”

Crashes like the one I survived are

extremely rare. “Rolling a McLaren

is really difficult, because of how low

the mass is to the ground. Driving a

McLaren off a slope is one of the few

ways you can do this – as you well

know,” Wildig said. “Crashing into

an object is over in 100 milliseconds,

and big aluminium beams up front

absorb that force in a front impact. In

a sustained crash like yours, where it’s

a long time before the vehicle comes

to a stop, shedding energy is vital to

surviving.” Our debris field meant

the kinetic energy from the crash

sloughed off the parts of the car that

were designed to disintegrate, like the

front fascia and even the frunk.

“We crashed one 675LT twelve

times,” Wildig recalled. “The tub

was perfectly fine after each test, so

we rebuilt the chassis around it and

crashed it again. You can’t do that

with a metallic car.”

The tub McLaren incorporates

into every model it produces represents

the apex of safety. Ordinary cars don’t

have a carbon cocoon, because the

likes of, say, a Nissan Micra aren’t

powerful enough to warrant it. Thanks

to solid crash- safety standards, though,

manufacturers have worked tirelessly to

build a (usually aluminium) version of a

safety cell into every vehicle, giving you a

chance to walk away from what might’ve

been a deadly crash just a few decades ago.

I’m typically not one to ref lect on

seismic life events, but when the event

is so catastrophic you mentally replay

it daily, multiple times, you are altered,

whether you like it or not. I drive

slightly more slowly now, especially

with a passenger on board. I get the

teensiest pang of panic when I’m on

curvy mountain roads. And I’m warier

of riding with anyone I don’t fully know

behind the wheel.

Before I left the site, a firefighter

handed me an indicator from under the

side mirror. “A memento,” he said. Still

caked with dirt, it resides beside my

bed. Whenever my eyes study it, I f lash

back to the instant when I knew we were

about to f ly off the mountain. Goose

bumps always appear.

Returning to work has been a largely

smooth process, with few hiccups. While

testing the new Ford Raptor, engineers

invited us to jump the pick-up on a closed,

off-road course. I was stoked until the

minute the wheels left the ground. The

sensation of falling in a speeding vehicle

snapped me back to the crash, and it took

a second to regain my focus. When I let

another journalist tear up the side of a

mountain in Abu Dhabi in a new Audi,

my brow was flecked with sweat. But

when I’m behind the wheel, when I’m in

control, I feel confident.

I will never be a racing-car driver, but

I feel a slight kinship, because the same

technology that protects them also saved

my life. “I’m terribly sorry this accident

happened to you, but I’m glad you were in

a McLaren,” Wildig said. Me too.

The side

mirror was torn

clean off during

the crash.

This A-pillar is

aluminium, but

is welded to the

“tub” and can

withstand more

than three times

the car’s weight

without crushing.

The buttress

behind the seat

backs helps offer

protection in case

of a rollover.