Finally England got some snow. While most people work from home, I drag race on an active runway.
I immediately booked a day off, picked Rhys up, and bought some overpriced plastic sleds – the red ones that break every year without fail.
In the forest there’s a huge, crazy steep hill that was a thing of legend back in school. Literally the second ride down this towering behemoth and my sled shatters into a dozen pieces beneath me. We stroll through the snowy forest, admiring the views and testing if a recycling bin lid can be used as a toboggan.
Not knowing when England would get any snow next, we hop in our cars, head out to the nearest airfield, and Rhys unexpectedly pulls my handbrake, sliding us across a frozen puddle. Following this discovery of how to handbrake turn, thus followed a day of drifting round the airfield at 60mph. A sign warns “authorised personnel only,” but there’s a blizzard reducing visibility to around 50 feet, and so nobody notices us sliding sideways at unreasonaly dangerous speeds.
Once I had perfected the Mission Impossible stunt of reversing fast, then drifting round 180° before continuing driving forward, then came the ultimate challenge. We’d been planning to race our little cars for ages, and what better place than here. Imagine how cinematic this is: drag racing down an active runway at full speed in the middle of a snowstorm.
Got to love the snow.