“Lights, Camera, action!” Well just lights. That is the first thing I saw, as they opened the doors after my two week flight. What I saw was not the team’s workshop but a strange land, I felt as if I was meant to be here. As they rolled me out I could see their determined and hopeful expressions, big things were expected of me. Me being the plucky car I refused to move any further. The reason being: my tires had been deflated! It was just a panic after that.

“How do we get air in the tires?” said someone, “No we should just drag the car to the pits” said another. Thankfully saner minds prevailed and one wheel at a time we got the air into my tyres ,bippity boppity boop I roll could now.

Slowly we made it to my hotel room also known as the pit area. Everyone was scrambling to setup everything I would need for the next few days of judgement.

The night rolled in and the temperature dropped further. The team with their tired eyes gave me final look of pride and went away for the night. Tomorrow was a big day for me: Technical scrutineering.

Now technical scrutineering has to be the most barbaric and invasive thing ever. Every car is judged blatantly to see if we comply with certain “rules” and that we will not blow up for any reason. The human equivalent would be beauty pageants. Some guy in a green polo shirt with sunglasses for some reason comes up with a list that I need to clear. The team around me is wearing some Barbie inspired bibs. Perhaps I was at a horrible fashion show.

Everyone started (for lack of a better word) poking around me , smacking certain objects. The rest of the team looked on from beyond a caged fence, they all looked like those fans that stalk you to your house and only a restraining order would keep them away. Every time the fashionable man in green ticked something off on the list, my fans would give out a uproarious resounding cheer. But before you could say pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicvolcaniosis (that is a real word) I had cleared the dreaded technical scrutineering. What did I get for being shamed all that while? Two measly stickers… nice.

Now this memoir of mine is getting pretty long and I have more people to roast, so let us skip ahead to the design session. This is the part where the people who designed me are judged (finally!). Now a bunch of angels in blue polo shirts came up and started asking the team about me. People were getting in and out, checking the steering, and asking the world’s most boring questions. This entire cinema lasted about an hour. Where at the end the chief Blue shirt guy (chief judge) gave his final remarks. The only one that really stuck to me was when he said that it felt like the car was trying to throw him out. That was extremely mean of him. I was not trying to throw him out, but rather to run him down. So unprofessional.

Next came something called the cost event. I have no recollection of what happened in it because the guy writing this article was too useless and the team decided it was not worth having him at this section of the event. I am glad they made that decision because, just look at this article.

It had started raining. Everyone was complaining about the obvious, “Oh look it’s raining”. But in the pouring rain the team felt I needed a drink. So I was dragged to what is called a petrol station. But this one is different from the ones commonly seen. It was especially built to fuel formula student cars. Pretty cool I know. They started pouring in the hydrocarbons, it took really long because my flatulence would relieve some volume in my fuel tank. So after an eternity later I was completely fueled.

Now starts the endurance event.

Not really. This was the writers attempt to make me an inanimate object, which has been given animation for the purposes of this article, sound comical. Bravo Mr. Writer bravo, that was a horrible joke. For those who did not understand that was what is known as in the human world as sarcasm.

Class 2 jokes aside, I was headed to what was called a tilt test. Apparently it is to confirm that I will not leak fluids and that I am dynamically stable. Basically If I failed this test I would be the human equivalent of a toddler.

I was rolled onto a platform and strapped in. I was a bit confused as to where the tilt part of the tilt test was. Hol’ up a minute. The entire platform decided it did not want to live and started rotating. First to something like 20 degrees and then 60 something degrees. I didn’t have a protractor at hand. So excuse me approximations. Also because cars don’t have hands silly.

Much to the amusement of the Barbie bib wearing and obvious event noting (scroll up to the bit about rain) I did not leak and was stable. Ha! I am not a toddler. I had cleared the tilt test and got another sticker. The entire team must really like stickers because they started taking pictures of it immediately.

It had been a long day for all of us. The rain although expected (because UK) was not a welcome sight for anyone in the team. Tomorrow we had two final tests to clear. Noise and brake test.

The noise test for me is very contradictory. Imagine if you were asked to scream and if you had a natural capability to scream extremely loudly then you would have to find a way to literally choke yourself and decrease your volume. Basically my engines would be ramped up to their maximum capacity and someone would measure the sound coming out.

What ensued was a 10 hour marathon by the team to basically shut me up. Every time the marshals would go like, “Too loud”. This kept happening over and over again.

The day would end at 6:00pm and it was 5:45pm. Some designated members rolled me into the “Scream zone” (sound test) one last time for the day, It was imperative for the team to clear this test today, one more time my engine was fired up. Now it was more of a deep sound rather than a deafening one.

The marshal gave a thumbs up and my chauffeurs started rejoicing as if there was no tomorrow. I had cleared the “screaming just loud enough” test. On went another sticker. Followed by the sticker worshippers taking a whole bundle of pictures.

21st July, this was the last day of the event. I had to clear one last test: brake test. It was to see if my wheels would stop going around and round when the breaks are applied. If I cleared this final judgement, then I would get to go on track with the big boys.

I was pushed into the start line of the test and had to brake between two sets of cones. The driver sat in, noises of metal seat belt buckles clacking and fixing into place. Someone said,” Ignition on”. I roared into life; the driver shook me into gear. It was time to run.

I could feel the weight under me and the expectations of the entire team onlooking from the sidelines. I went around the obstacle once to inspect it, now was the time for the final run.

As we made the last turn, I had to rush on as fast as I could. Everything faded out, all I could see were the two pairs of cones as they loomed ever closer, the wind rushing by faster and faster. Suddenly everything started slowing down, the tires were complaining from the punishment they were being put under, I started to swerve left but stopped in time.

The marshal on my right gave a thumbs up. The marshal to my left, shook his head. Only one wheel had failed to “lock-up”. It was gut wrenching. Before we knew it, 4 o’clock rolled by. The gravity of this entire endeavor had forced time sprint ahead. Unfortunately, we failed to clear the test, only by one wheel. It was extremely disappointing, I felt as if all the air had rushed out of my tires. The team were consoling the few who had broken into tears, upset with themselves for not doing enough. But they had forgotten the gargantuan effort they had put in just to get me here. The massive improvement I had become from last year. If it wasn’t for their sleepless nights and 24-hour workdays, none of this would have happened.

As the event ended, I was rolled back into my container. Disappointed with myself. But I could still see the same hope and joy on the team’s face from when they rolled me out. I guess they were really pleased to have conceived me.