Ever since I can remember, I've been fascinated with trucks, or as they are more usually known in this newspaper, lorries. When I was a child, much to my mother's chagrin, I would sit for hours digging up her chrysanthemums with my Tonka toys. As I got a little older, I would waste my Saturday mornings watching movies such as Smokey and the Bandit and Convoy, where the brightly coloured Kenworth and Mack trucks carried as much star power as the spectacularly mustachioed Burt Reynolds and epically bearded Kris Kristofferson.
They also heralded the CB radio craze, at the vanguard of which were my brother and I (at least in our street, anyway). We would sit up late chatting to long-haul heavy-goods drivers, listening to their strange on-air language: “Breaker Breaker 1-9, this is Fizzy Duck, who’s got their ears on out there, over?”
No surprise then, that when I was offered the opportunity to test the new range of industrial vehicles from Renault, on a racetrack, I jumped at the chance.
So, replete in red plaid shirt, obnoxious baseball cap, Ray-Ban aviators and sporting a moustache that Hulk Hogan would envy, I headed out into Qatar’s boondocks to the windy Losail International Circuit to finally become a bona fide trucker.
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It was three o-five in the dyin’ light, of a Qatar afternoon.
We arrive at the circuit in the early afternoon, keen to get our hands on the big boys’ toys. But, as is the nature of these events, les grands fromages were keen to extol the virtues of the new C and K range vehicles, which we’ve come to experience.
We learn that Renault has been developing these models for several years, from the ground up, using cutting-edge virtual-reality technology and 3-D printing at the design stage. Also, that there’s been a significant input from its solid global customer base, some of which came from the strong dealer network it has here in the region. Renault has been rigorously testing these beasts in the wilds of Oman to ensure they’re ready to take on some of the hostile working environments found here in the GCC, and they expect to see a 30 per cent growth in Gulf operations with the Expo 2020 and the 2022 Fifa World Cup fast approaching.
It’s all very interesting, but as we sit there, my eyes continue to wander, catching tantalising glimpses of the trucks in the Losail pit lane, glinting in the quickly dropping sun. After many questions asked by very serious PMV (parcel and miscellaneous van) and specialist truck journalists (most of whom treat my levity with some disdain), we’re finally split into groups.
Sadly, I’m in the second group, meaning we still have to endure an hour or so of “workshops”, which basically reiterate a lot of what was already said. After 45 minutes, a few of us are getting visibly antsy, wondering just how much opportunity we’re going to get on the track.
Eventually, though, we’re hurried to the pits, before Renault’s people are forced to pay Losail’s management extra to switch on the floodlights.
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The dust was high, and so was I, as the trucks began to move.
Those readers who follow the near suicidal antics of Valentino Rossi et al and their two-wheeled stallions will know Losail well. Every year, it hosts the first night race – and the only Middle Eastern instalment – of the MotoGP calendar.
It’s a circuit that’s very much “built for purpose”, so a lot of the time in the workshops I spend ruminating on exactly how these Gallic big rigs are going to cope with the tight corners and hairpins that litter the course. Apparently, so had the Losail management and, deciding that 10 30-odd-tonne trucks might cause a bit of damage to the asphalt on the corners where motorcyclists hang their backsides on the ragged edge of safety, have concocted an “interesting” course, with off-road run-offs acting as turning areas.
So, it’s with a sense of excitement that I climb the steps into the cab of my Euro VI-emission class C480. Not so much a long-haul vehicle, though probably more than capable, it’s geared more for the construction industry, with a long flatbed mounted on the eight-by-four rigid trailer (meaning eight wheels at the rear and four at the front) and some kind of crane-effort attached at the back.
Thinking back to the days when I worked in a goods-in yard, whipping around in my Linde forklift, I would often talk to the delivery drivers who would be full of bile and hate for their trucks, complaining about half-gears and uncomfortable seats.
Being my first time behind the wheel of one of these bad boys, I want to keep it as simple as possible, so I ensure that the 480hp engine also comes with the company’s seamless Optidriver “robotised” automatic gearbox, which controls 12 forward-drive and two reverse gears. The system, as I understand it, also automatically switches between on– and off-road differentials, and delivers 2,400Nm of torque.
As for comfort, it’s a brave new world with Renault trucks, it seems, because the hydraulically suspended seat is like sitting in a slightly sporty La-Z-Boy that’s hovering on a cushion of air. The cab, too, is well laid out, with buckets of space, clearly visible instrumentation and everything within easy reach on the wraparound dashboard.
After being given a quick tour of the C480’s basic functions in broken English by my French driving companion, and posing for a few photos, it’s time to, as they say, truck off.
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We were driving hard and we rolled out fast, with Smokey on our tail.
Press the brake, engage the Optidriver, ease off with the left foot and, with surprising ease, we’re under way. We roll at a gentle pace to the edge of the pit lane, and out onto the main straight. There’s a maximum speed of 60kph on the track and 25kph in the corners, but I’m already doing 70kph as we approach the first corner. The acceleration is imperceptible to the point of inertia, though I should imagine with a full load you’d feel it more.
My approach to the first corner is a little nervy. Basically, two planks of wood, each seemingly the width of a Yorkie chocolate bar, and the narrowest corridor of little orange cones is our path onto the run-off gravel.
All of a sudden, I feel sympathy for Kim Kardashian when she tries to heave on a pair of skinny jeans. Tight doesn’t quite cover it. A bit of heavy braking puts me right in line and I manage to coax the C480 into the turn, but on the exit, I find myself a little too far to the left when I hit the gravel.
A quick adjustment has my eight rear tyres kicking up dust into the face of the truck behind, but I make it without any conical casualties.
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In a Renault truck with a crane out back, we were shootin' for Losail.
Considering that just a month ago, I was nervous about negotiating the prow of a Rolls-Royce Ghost II through the narrow streets of London, I’m amazed at just how easy it is to drive this 30-foot behemoth. Admittedly, it makes the Rolls look positively sprightly, but in terms of effortlessness, the Renault isn’t far off the trucking equivalent. The power steering is quite magnificent, and makes the C480 feel like a car. I’m only really caught out by its girth.
It lures you into a bit of a false sense of security, because it’s so easy to drive. It’s easy to go into autopilot and think that you’re driving an SUV. I find that I’m getting a little exuberant with the throttle and I’m becoming slightly too fast on the approach to the corners.
My co-pilot shows me how to activate the engine brake, which is an engine retarder, slowing the truck down mechanically, once pressure is removed from the accelerator pedal. There are three settings, offering different extremes of retardation based on the speed and the load you would normally be carrying. Most importantly, it allows the C480 to slow enough to turn into the corners more effectively and efficiently regardless of my approaching speed. Had the Aventador Roadster that I pranged in Miami been fitted with one of these, I might still be getting invited to Lambo’s press gigs.
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We’ve got ourselves a convoy, trucking on through Qatar.
So here I am. Foot to the floor. Pedal to the metal. Finally rolling “Eastbound and Down” in a real-life Tonka truck, contemplating a future on the open road.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a CB radio, nor a friend with a Pontiac Trans-Am Firebird. What I do have, though, is an epic moustache, eight trucks in my rear-view mirror, the last rays of a setting sun on the horizon and a dream to chase.
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We’ve got ourselves a convoy, but we ain’t got to drive too far.
Sadly, though, the pit lane is now closed and the PRs insist that we have a bus to catch. Still, for one fleeting moment, I finally had myself a convoy.
weekend@thenational.ae
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