14 Sep 06
The fourth day of our 600-mile Indian rickshaw rally starts with a stern message from the organisers: put in 75ml of oil per litre instead of 50ml. 'The way you guys drive, you'll need that.' But you have to drive rickshaws flat-out, which is 38mph in our case. In the absence of a speedo we ascertain this by maxxing it alongside a support vehicle. Cruising speed is 35mph, which sounds gentle, but the rickshaw has the most sensitive steering I've ever experienced. Really, this thing makes a Caterham feel like a Routemaster. Sneeze at 38mph and you've wiped out that herd of goats.
It also feels really planted in corners, right up to the point when it becomes a two-wheeler. We've discovered that if the passenger hangs out like a sidecar racer, we can massively diminish the chances of that and increase cornering speeds. With very little suspension to speak of, weight distribution is the key to avoiding the tedious loss of momentum tight bends otherwise inflict.
We can even overtake, but with just 7bhp from the 150cc engine, it needs planning. Because the driver's in the middle up front, the passenger behind him moves across to more accurately call the road ahead. (Co-driver Simon calls it McLaren F1 seating.) Just as batsmen do, we've banned 'no' and 'go' because they sound so similar over the infernal engine buzz. Shamefully, we've also become quite Indian in that we'll force motorbikes right over to make our pass, just as oncoming buses, cars and trucks regularly push us onto the dirt. If you don't enforce your place in the highway hierarchy, you're moved directly to the bottom.
It helps that we're actually the fastest rickshaw of the 16, a fact that really grates with the three ultra-competitive Hungarian teams. We can only think it's down to the new tyres fitted by our rickshaw's sponsor, Ceat. Called Autoraja (hence our rickshaw's name) and designed specifically for the tiny 8" wheels, their appeal to the average taxi driver is the ability to withstand retreading up to three times.
