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Welcome to Jaisalmer. Welcome to driving heaven.
I doubt anybody introduced Jaisalmer as the driving capital of the country; most of us go there to step into some cow dung in the fort (incidentally the largest inhabited fort in the world) or camel dung at the tourist trap that the sand dunes have become. Most land up in clattery Taveras or Indicabs having taken five hours to get there from the airport in Jodhpur (Jaisalmer airbase is more often than not closed for civilian flights). Through bleary eyes you may even have noticed that the roads are fantastically surfaced and arrow straight till the horizon. If you were in a fast car the realisation may have dawned that the road you were on is probably the best road in the country; exclude the expressways and it definitely is the fastest. And to set our theory in stone we’re here with what’s arguably the best supercar in the world – Audi’s R8.
If you recall this isn’t our first test of the R8. Exactly a year ago we took part in an Audi driver training program at the Eurospeedway Lausitz in Germany, a dozen R8s placed at our disposal as we attempted to gauge our and the car’s limits. On a race track though there’s nothing to hit - if you make a mistake you run wide, lose a few seconds and rejoin. This, though, is no race track. This is an Indian highway. And this is a car that costs Rs 1.7 crore. It’s the only one in the country - the other one ran over a speed-breaker, killed its water pump and had to be sent back to New Zealand. Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?
A road is a nice place to put things into perspective. You don’t immediately jump in and drive, you notice things that you just wouldn’t on a race track. Like the tiny exposed shard of the alloy rim catching the early morning sun, gleaming from underneath the multiple and tightly wrapped dust covers. And as anybody who’s been assaulted by a G-string winking from a tightly cut and low riding denim will know, nothing heightens the sense of anticipation, makes your heart beat harder and your trousers go all tight like a naughty hint of the treasures that lie beneath.
I’m sweating. Don’t know if it’s the anticipation or the merciless Rajasthani sun but all the time spent unwrapping and unloading the R8 gives me ample time to soak in what’s a beautiful and properly dramatic supercar shape. It doesn’t have the frightening aggression of a Lamborghini in vivid orange or the please-help-yourself-to-my-left-hand desirability of a Ferrari in red. What it does have is a maturity, a German desirability mated to classic supercar proportions (long, low, wide) and its heart, the engine, mounted jewel-like beneath a glass hood for all to see.
Things are really hotting up now so I jump into the car and notice just how comfortable it actually is. It is low but getting in doesn’t give you a hernia. There’s ample space for two. The cabin is beautifully built, just like any other Audi’s, and everything is just where you expect it to be.
Jaisalmer to Pokhran is arrow straight for the most part but there are a few corners, a handful of corners to be precise, and each and every one of them is open, well surfaced and very fast. These are corners that in any normal car you barely need to slow down for but in a fast car it helps to know the corner and the lay of the land. Having recceed the road I know most of the corners but I still slow down for the first corner. Needn’t have.
The R8 turns crisply, Quattro all-wheel-drive grips tarmac like a lizard running upside down on your ceiling, and she turns. No drama, no shenanigans, just cool, clinical efficiency. I turn around and attack the corner again, now in fourth gear, and she flies around.
