Maximum-attack in Ginetta’s G56 racer | GRR
So, you think sticky tyres, harnesses and a plastic rear window are enough to make your supercar feel like a racing car? Cute. But wrong. Let a £65k, Yorkshire-built, Ford-engined, fibreglass-bodied GT demonstrate why. And turn you into a racing driver in the process.
This is the Ginetta G56 GTA, foundation for the GT Academy programme. For a little over a hundred grand all-in, Ginetta can store it, prep it ahead of each race, take it to the paddock on their truck and let you race it in a five-round championship against identical G56s. All you have to do is turn up, zip into your overalls and go.
If you’re feeling like you’ve ‘done’ track days this is an appealing proposition. Running to fixed regulations and costs – both controlled by Ginetta – you also race in the knowledge it’s skill, not money that counts. The car’s nature does mean there’s absolutely nowhere to hide if your talents behind the wheel aren’t up to snuff. But, fear not, Ginetta has that covered too. From rookie to race winner, Ginetta can support you with everything from simulator sessions to one-to-one coaching from its in-house team of seasoned pros.
GT Academy picks up where the previous Ginetta Racing Drivers Club left off. The GRDC followed a similar format, using the smaller G40 as its basis. It’s a cute little mini-GT, with handling spiky enough to school a generation of racing stars, Lando Norris and most of the current BTCC grid among them. But perhaps a little too cute for those trying to establish racing driver cred among supercar owning mates.
No such excuses needed with the G56. While it follows essentially the same template it’s bigger and bristling with muscular intent, huge wing and more meaningful 3.7-litre Ford V6 tucked up against its front bulkhead. Full-fat versions of this car compete in the Ginetta SuperCup and in GT4-level championships the world over. The Porsches, McLarens, Aston Martins and other customer GT4 cars they compete against may be glitzier. But are still converted road cars.
True, Ginetta has fitted street-spec Michelin PS4s and dialled the aero back a little to make the GTA easier for road car drivers to get to grips with. But this is still a proper, factory-built racing car through and through. As you realise the first time you strap in. Thankfully I’ve got Ginetta coach Max Coates alongside me. We’re at Blyton Park, now under Ginetta ownership, and the perfect place to find the limits (or, as it turns out, safely exceed them) in a car designed to help drivers develop their skills.
Where GT4 versions of McLaren 570S and Porsche Caymans use adapted street-spec dual-clutch transmissions the savage PSSSST-clack of a Quaife race sequential slotting ups the ante before a wheel even turns. Thankfully there’s no embarrassing stall and, once under way, you can forget the clutch pedal, auto-blipped shifts from the paddles freeing your left foot for braking to better balance the car through the corners.
Squeezed between roll-cage and wide transmission tunnel while peering through a slot-like windscreen, the G56 feels imposing, the motor going from pitlane chunter to angry bark as I peel onto Blyton’s first straight. There’s only 270PS (199kW) or so driving the rear wheels but at no point do you feel short-changed by how this thing goes, or the concentration it demands. Forget ABS for starters – there isn’t even a brake servo. With that and the knowledge I’m on cold rubber I’m terrified of a big, flat-spotting lock-up and my first few laps are tentative, with cautious braking points and throttle inputs.
Where even a track-optimised road car will nestle your turn-in behind a comfort blanket of understeer there’s no such mollycoddling in the Ginetta. The front-end darts for the apex with even the slightest twitch of my wrists, timid entry speeds accentuating the slightly nervy responses.
My mistake? Driving it like a road car. With Max’s encouragement I commit to later and harder application of the brake pedal and earlier and more decisive throttle.
Driven this way the Ginetta shows its true balance, inputs to brakes, steering and throttle overlapping into a seamless blend rather than the procedural checklist of slow, turn, accelerate your track day instructor will have instilled. I’ll confess to puckering slightly at how late Max insists I should be braking and how quickly I need to be getting on the throttle but, trusting his expertise, I up my game and whole seconds drop from the lap time. It’s hot, noisy and intense but by the time we break for another debrief I’m wired enough to think lapping a Pista would be about as exciting as a Prius in terms of track authenticity. It’s the real deal, and at the price Ginetta charges looks like a total bargain. The residuals don’t look too bad compared with that limited-edition plaything either, the bonus being you get to race it rather than hide it under a sheet, fearful that every mile on the odometer is another grand off your investment.
By the last session both tyre temperatures and blood are up. At these more serious speeds the car moves around on its tyres but I can sense the first cusp of brake lock-up through my nostrils and any loss of grip through my fingertips and backside, meaning it’s relatively easy to drive at the limit, as you’d need to in a race. There’s enough power to rotate the car into a lovely neutral stance through fast corners, the odd flicker of oversteer in the slower ones and huge scope for developing your talents at relatively sensible speeds, all helped by the nicely linear power delivery of the naturally-aspirated V6.
Then the inevitable wake-up. I’m a nadge wide on turn-in and the outside rear drops over the kerb and pitches us into savagely quick spin. It’s over before it’s begun, though, and I’m at least quick enough to drop the clutch so we don’t stall. No harm done, but it’s a reminder of how you need to be on your game in one of these things, the comfort of that FIA safety cell and more affordable rubbin’ is racin’ repairs than a Porsche, Aston or McLaren another welcome benefit of the Ginetta’s no-nonsense approach.
Kid yourself that Alcantara upholstery and a lap-timing app on your infotainment screen make your road car a racing car in all but name. Pedal it cautiously round the odd track day if you will. But racing is for racing cars. And, for a temptingly accessible entry price, the Ginetta delivers exactly that.