Inside Sport was recently invited to step into V8 Supercar star Russell Ingall’s office and take a seat. We survived to tell the tale … just.

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Russell Ingall, V8 Supercars, hot lap Image: Getty Images

Peruse any home entertainment retail catalogue and you’ll receive the same pitch: “Buy all this awesomely loud, hi-def stuff and you’ll feel like you’re actually there.” It’s easy to take the bait; those enormous TV screens ‒ the ones sitting in McMansions across mortgage belts ‒ are getting cheaper, and surround sound equipment is plenty affordable for today’s aspirational class. So you’re all set for that big-match TV experience. Your mind doesn’t have to imagine anything anymore; all you have to do is sit and let your eyes and ears soak in all that noise and bright lights ... But does it really feel like you’re actually there?

Inside Sport arrives at the real thing, Sydney Motorsport Park, which used to be Eastern Creek raceway, to find out. We’ve been invited – or dared – to step into the lair of two-time Bathurst 1000 winner Russell Ingall who, like his fellow V8 stars, as you read this be steeling himself for Winton, and the last race on the Supercar calender, the Telstra Sydney 500 in and around the former Olympic precinct from November 30-December 2.

Petrol dominates the nostrils even from the outer gates to this greater western Sydney motor racing kingdom. Cars of various categories are being flung around the circuit by cashed up privateers, and are like Aussie backpackers: you definitely hear them before you see them.

When Ingall swings into view in his Supercheap Auto-adorned Holden atop the main straight, the team gets ready to pounce. The Supercar, moving ever-closer, sounds like God clearing his (or her) throat. Once parked, it sits, heaving, like a giant, livid dog, exasperated about being brought in early from chasing its stick. The heat generated from one of these machines can be felt a good 20 metres away, while the sound is something which can actually be felt through the chests of both busy and gawking bystanders.

Ingall invites his passengers aboard his cage of metal safety bars, awaits for them to be strapped in six ways across the torso, then launches his machine onto the track from the pits like a pine nut being fired from a sling shot. Two questions race through the mind: how could this much power and speed be generated this quickly ... and are we going to be able to round that sharp left-hander that’s coming up without rollin’ it?

It’s not the speed along the straights that leaves the passenger hot and bothered – that’s the fun part. It’s the G-forces created by sudden braking and stopping which causes trauma on the body. These V8 drivers must have strong abdominals (well, strong everything) to hold an upright position as the car tries to throw them around the cockpit at each and every turn.

The whole experience is horrific on the ears, too. No clever door or floor trimmings to prevent road noise here. What’s on and in the car is there ‘cos it’s needed to make it go fast (can’t imagine what 30 of these souped-up monsters sound like from the cockpit of the car in the middle of the pack racing up Bathurst’s Mountain Straight).

After the lap (much later, after your author’s heart has stopped trying to smash through his chest), we ask Russell if what we had been through earlier was a carnival ride for just another curious punter, or even remotely close to the real thing. “This track has only just opened back up after being renovated, so each and every lap here is precious to our experience. I was going as hard as I could out there.”

No doubt “The Enforcer” will be scooting around Olympic Park a little bit quicker without a lumpy journo in the front seat ... Might just leave this fly-on-the-wall stuff to the cameras next time.