Audi Ice Drive Experience: The most fun you can have with your clothes on

Scratching a big one off the bucket list starts with taking a very long flight. Except I nearly missed it. The 10pm Air India is delayed; two hours in Pune, a further half hour taxiing in Delhi, and then another 45 minutes for the bags to arrive. By the time I scamper from T2 to T3 Lufthansa’s counters are shut. I find a guy loading their signs on to a trolley who finds a lady – god bless her soul – and that’s when my gold status kicks in. Calls are made, I’m taken to a counter that looks like an emergency system by-pass, boarding passes are issued, they even take my suitcase stuffed with jackets, thermals and boots (mentally I’m prepared to abandon it), I give another thanks for digital immigration, and I make the flight. I’ve never missed a flight; missing the one taking me to what’s always been the highlight of the year would have been spectacularly stupid.

I sleep like a baby on the upper deck of the 747 – Lufthansa still is the queen of the skies! A shower at Frankfurt, another three hours on an affiliate airline, and we land at Kittila airport where everybody goes to shake hands with a broad-shouldered chap. Must be important, and I let him and the equally muscular lady he’s travelling with alight ahead of me. Two hours later I’m introduced to Neeraj Chopra and his wife. This business of being able to recognise a car by half an inch of the grille but being clueless about everything else is getting ridiculous.

Dinner takes so long I attack the bread baskets like a bear and excuse myself before the reindeer steaks arrive. Tomorrow is a long day and it starts with signing three indemnities, trying on a smart Audi jacket, and being paired with self-same Olympic gold medallist with instructions to, “Take care of him.”

A week ago, I took pictures with Roger Federer. Now I’m “taking care” of Neeraj Chopra. Somebody pinch me.

Audi India’s brand ambassador drives an RS Q8 back home but his favourite fast-Audi is the RS6 GT. The 305kmph Avant with the white wheels inspired by the original Quattro. Clearly he’s an enthusiast; the next two days are going to be fun. Little do I know the next two days will be a masterclass in the focus, competitiveness, hunger for perfection and dedication to the task that separates Olympians from the rest of us. Also, the astonishing humility that defines Mr Chopra. He’s a national hero, and he exudes zero airs. “Namaskar ji, pehle aap,” and thus he beckons me to take the ’wheel. That humility is a trait that defines the leadership at Audi India – brand head Balbir Dhillon and I were once colleagues (he the head of sales, me the head of press at Porsche India) and from him I learnt how productive a human being can actually be, and how self-same productivity layered with quiet humility can take you places. We go back a long way and so I chance my arm. “When will the S5 come to India, Balbir?”

“Let’s keep something for later.” My friend is clearly media trained.

The S5 will of course come to India but not in the Avant body style that I am now drifting and showboating to my passenger. This is my seventh time on a frozen lake of which five have been with Audi and it’s an experience anybody can sign up for. Costs 4000 euros (plus your flights) and from the moment you land in Kittila until you depart three days later, everything is taken care of including an excursion to watch the northern lights and another evening on board snow scooters. Not cheap but it’s the absolute best automotive experience you will have, plus it’ll make you a much, much better driver. 16 years ago, legendary rally driver Jochi Kleint – the very same person whose twin-engined Golf broke down within sight of the finish line (and record time) at Pikes Peak in 1987 – taught me to do the Scandinavian flick in an Audi S4. That was the single biggest catalyst for me to enter the Indian National Rally Championship, which would prove to be the most character-building (and most fun!) period of my life. I’ll always be grateful to Audi for lighting that fire in me, and now it’s my turn to stoke the very same fires in a certain gold medallist.

Neeraj is new to this drifting business, but there’s no place like a frozen lake to learn how to drift. In its new avatar the S5 makes 349bhp and 500Nm which is plenty enough to break traction, and our cars are specced with the sport rear differential that enables torque vectoring and more control when the car is sideways. Our lessons begin with weight transfer, feeling the effect of said weight transferring from tail to nose as we get off the gas and apply brakes, and then using the loaded nose to turn the car while the unladen rear swings sideways. Sounds simple enough but takes time and patience to get a feel for it. There are fellow participants for whom this isn’t the first time on a frozen lake and yet are violently thumping the snow banks and calling for the recovery tractor, much to the irritation of our instructors.

Not that Neeraj is a stranger to the tractor but he is recovering from injury to his throwing arm and can’t dial in full opposite lock, at least not quickly enough to prevent excursions into the snow bank. But with every lap, every session, he hangs the tail out more and more extravagantly, looks where I tell him to look, and by the second day nails the four-wheel drift – front wheels pointed straight, the S5 setup in a beautiful drift, revs in the meat of the torque band, both of us looking out of the side window and squealing like 8-year-olds in an ice cream shop. Who says you cannot drift an Audi?

And he wants to keep going. Halfway through the session on a snake-shaped track I want to rush back to our hut to take a pee and he asks how old I am that I cannot hold it in. He obliges the photographer in the breaks so they don’t trouble him during driving sessions. Lest we forget, Neeraj is here on holiday. There’s no pressure on him to do anything except have a good time. But he can’t help but push himself. Every time he spins he asks me what he did wrong, thinks about it for a minute and doesn’t repeat the same mistake again.

Time to pit what we’ve learnt against the clock. I go first, Neeraj my hype man, egging me on. 4 minutes 44.1 seconds. We swap seats and wait. Some guys have gone off and the tractor driver’s walkie is dead in the minus 30 degree cold. By the time we get going our rhythm is gone, except Neeraj’s first split time is surprisingly close to mine. Wow, this will be close. But then self-preservation kicks in. His right arm is a national treasure. Avoiding a snow bank isn’t worth aggravating the injury. We plough into said snow bank. I am as gutted as he is. Getting him on the podium of our little Audi winter Olympics would have validated a dream I’ve harboured for a while.

I’m not that far off the big five-oh and at this age you start to wonder what retirement would look like. In my mind’s eye I’d be spending the winter months doing drift training in Finland, ideally on the Audi Ice Experience. And what’s better than having ‘trained an Olympic gold medallist how to drift’ on your resume!

Drawing a pension while having the most fun you can with clothes on? That’s at the top of my bucket list.