Driving a 550kg, one‑of‑two Škoda 1100 OHC ‘Red Racer’

A two-seater, tube-framed, fibreglass bodied, 550kg endurance racer, the 1100 OHC Spider, or ‘Red Racer’, went from idea to reality in a matter of months. Revealed to the world in 1956, the 1100 OHC Spider’s low, sleek body, combined with a dual overhead cam, four-cylinder, 1.1-litre engine meant it was fast. Surprisingly fast, really. With just 85bhp it could reach 200km/h depending on the gear ratios, or 124mph.

The car pictured here was built in 1958, imported to the UK by a Czech student in 1968, restored in 1980, then bought by Škoda UK and given some more love and attention. Only two cars were originally built, both of which were piloted to a number of race victories by Škoda factory drivers Vaclav Bobek and Miroslav Fousek. Given the car’s history, and given its value, it’s all the more surprising, then, that Škoda put me behind the wheel.

Putting both feet on the driver’s seat before gently lowering myself behind the wheel, first impressions are that the cabin is snug. There are two thin leather seats – red, of course – but anyone taller than 5ft 7in would struggle to feel at home. The bodywork is incredibly thin, too, and the basic tube-frame structure that surrounds the cabin probably wouldn’t be too much help if I wrapped this priceless piece of Škoda’s racing heritage round a tree. But I try to put those thoughts out of my mind as we fire up the dinky engine.

I’m advised to push the Red Racer’s five-speed, dogleg manual into reverse before going for first, advice I follow before pulling out of a small Škoda tent and onto a short, simple, but mercifully other-object-and-people-free, track.

First impressions are the steering is delightfully old fashioned. Not old fashioned in a ‘goodness, I have no idea what’s going on here’ sort of way, but in a way that feels incredibly reassuring. The word ‘feel’ is used a lot to describe how a car’s steering communicates what’s happening between tyre and tarmac, and in the Red Racer’s case you can feel every little bump, every little surface change and every little movement of the cross-ply tyre through the string-wrapped wheel. It is delightful, although at manoeuvring speeds there is no assistance whatsoever… I can only assume Bobek and Fousek had forearms of steel.

It becomes apparent very quickly that first gear will not be necessary again, so I slowly move between second and third before rounding a corner onto the main straight. 85bhp might not sound like a lot, but in a car that weighs so little it absolutely flies. The noise, too, is fantastic, and changing up from second to third and then fourth I let out a very loud and very childish giggle. And then I tried to brake.

With drums all round you have to absolutely pin your foot to the brake pedal, but not so hard that the wheels lock. The trick, I learn later after a passenger ride with the car’s regular driver Steve, is to really make the most of the engine braking, moving down through the gears far more aggressively than I thought possible.

And through the corners, the Red Racer is an absolute delight. With a 75kg driver it has a 49.7-50.3 per cent weight distribution, and so, despite being one of the rarest race cars on this earth, it feels playful. Lift off the throttle, even at very low speeds, and you can feel the rear start to rotate, something you start to use to your advantage, to turn in a little tighter.

Having driven for two-dozen laps or so I voluntarily pull back into the pits, expecting someone to ask me why I’d driven the car for so long. Instead, the car’s caretaker Steve kneels down beside me, grinning, keen to know what I thought and how I’d got on. I pull off my helmet and balaclava, unable to stop grinning.

I was expecting the 1100 OHC Red Racer to feel intimidating, but in truth it was one of the purest, most enjoyable and most memorable motoring experiences I’ve ever had.