How to drift

Step one, find a car. Step two, tape up the handbrake button. Step three, understand that you MUST be prepared to abuse the bejesus out of said vehicle.

It sounds easy, and Mad Mike – aka Mike Whiddett – makes it look easy. But understanding and executing a controlled drift is more challenging than brokering peace in the Middle East.

I’ve done this sort of thing a few times and the only sustained ‘success’ I’ve ever achieved was at the hands of the Ford Focus RS with shagged tyres. And let’s face it, that’s cheating because the car drifts for you.

Trying the same thing in a Mazda RX-8 with just 211Nm of torque on a surface that’s a patchwork of wet and dry surfaces is a respectable challenge.

Forget everything you thought you knew
Like snorting Fanta up your nose then spitting it out of your mouth, drifting can be frustrating, painful and – at least from an outsider’s point of view -- pointless idiocy.

Some drivers find it almost impossible because it goes against the grain of what they’ve been taught and practice each and every day. Others pick it up easily. Pour moi? It took a bit of doing.

In a nut-shell, drifting is counter-intuitive to pretty much everything you’ve ever done in a car.

To a large extent, it’s about breaking those mental rules we’ve had drilled into us since first getting our car licences. You have to unlearn some things. But the sense of freedom gained when you finally get it right? You’ll soar like an eagle.

OK, so yours truly nose-dived like a maimed seagull, but the sense of satisfaction – even for a fleeting moment – is intoxicating. Because the learning curve is so steep, even the smallest victory feels amazing.

Speed, handbrake, counter-steer, repeat
As my highly-skilled drift teacher Mad Mike explains, you need lots of revs, lots of steering lock and a fair bit of courage.

That’s particularly so in this case because the RX-8 has less torque than a dozy four-year-old attempting a Chinese-burn.

It was wet early on, which means less smoke “and a higher level of difficulty”, says Mike.

The RX-8 is a bit slow off the mark and Mike suggests I bounce it off the 9000rpm limit to get the rear hoops spinning.

His first task for me? Simply perform some donuts and get a feel for how the car pendulums around.

Then things get technical – make the donut wider. That means counter-steering and modulating the throttle, which is tricky.

After a few botched attempts Mike seems convinced I’m ready to attempt a drift. His instructions are simple – I need speed, then handbrake to initiate the slide, then lots of revs following by counter-steering.

Do or do not, there is no try
My first few efforts aren’t too shabby. Slide initiated via the handbrake and a bit of steering lock to provoke it, I held a drift momentarily but ended up spinning out like a bridegroom on his buck’s night.

Then, after a few efforts, things seem to click. It pays to focus on regulating your breathing, relaxing, easing the car around with soft hands, rather than gripping the wheel like a life raft in stormy seas.

I hold the slide – a little too long, almost hitting the wall – but it feels awesome. A few more attempts and it’s almost as if the brain has created new synaptic pathways.

Perhaps the best part of the day is Mad Mike taking me for a ride in his Mad Bull ‘RX-7.3’ drift car, which wears classic RX-3 front-end styling and is powered by a fire-breathing, naturally-aspirated 2.6-litre quad-rotor engine.

“It’s not turbo which makes it really challenging to drift,” says Mike, as he blitzes around the race track in his insane RX-7 that’s now behaving like a slightly inebriated ballistic missile.

I nod sagely as if I too had finished third in last year’s Formula Drift World Championship.