The silent Bathurst 1000? Why EVs at The Mountain won’t work…

Logic would tell you that time and experience make you wiser, and thus you will be wrong about fewer things as you get older.

But in actual fact, more time on the planet only seems to add up to more time in which to discover how wrong you are.

The amount of things about which I’ve been wrong would fill a book I really wouldn’t enjoy writing. So it’s highly possible that I’ll be wrong about motorsport as well.

People I know and almost trust have been to Formula E races and they tell me that the experience is nowhere near as awful as I am convinced it would be.

When pondering the idea of motorsport without the sound of screaming engines I am reminded of the idea of silent sex – something I’ve only been unfortunate enough to experience a few times when women have fallen asleep in bed with me – no doubt exhausted by my prowess.

And even then, I was still making noises like a steam train and a team of cheerleaders (cheering for myself, of course).

Silent motor racing is wrong.

There’s a reason that silent movies died when the talkies came in, and it’s the same reason they’ve never made a comeback.

I watched the Top 10 Shootout at Bathurst this weekend and was comforted by the roaring noises, even as I mourned for the shouty sounds of the bogans who weren’t making a mess on The Mountain.

Imagining Bathurst without noise is like imagining it without booze. Or fires. Or idiots with no teeth.

Frankly, Formula One hasn’t been the same since they made it quieter. I remember thrilling to the fact that you couldn’t listen to the old V10 F1 cars without earplugs, because if you did, not only your ears but your eyes would bleed.

I took my Dad along once, a veteran of many Bathursts and the man who made me fall in love with big, shouty motor racing.

As the F1 cars warmed up I told him to shove his earplugs in and he looked at me – as he often does – as if I was the softest and most pathetic weak-kneed, slim-hipped Nancy Boy he’d ever been unfortunate enough to meet.

And for once I smiled back.

Then the cars ripped past us down the straight and he just about howled in pain. Then he shoved the ear plugs in to his head so deeply we needed pliers to get them out.

That sound, that visceral scream that wobbled your insides and loosened your bowels, was a large part of what made F1 magic, particularly when attended in person.

The modern cars sound bit more like what happens with loose bowels, a bunch of wet farts.

But it’s still better than Formula E racing, which I just can’t take seriously, as much as I can sense the inevitability of its prominence and the correctness of its zero-emission mission.

And the fact is I’ve been wrong about very similar things before. I was convinced that all EVs would be dull but worthy, like the first few I drove.

And then I drove a Tesla Model S and was strangely disappointed by how good it was, because it pointed out what a dick I am, and how crap I am at predicting the future.

And then I drove a Model 3 Performance and that was even worse. Or better.

So I know EVs can be fast, and fun, and that those two things should make them well qualified to become racing cars. But the noise is just so … good.

The key, and a global pandemic or two might help with this, is not to go and see it live.

On TV, I’ve learned, the crowds don’t really matter, and you can’t really tell how quiet and droning the F1 cars are. And I’m still loving the racing.

V8 Supercars, though? Bathurst? The Great Race But Silent?

I just don’t know. I mean, it’s not called “V8” racing for nothing, is it?