by David Finlay (25 Sep 08)

The story goes back six years. Peter Wyhinny, then head of Volkswagen Commercial Vehicles, came up with two very good ideas: first, that racing a diesel Caddy in the one-make (but multi-model) Volkswagen Cup series would be a splendid way of promoting the brand; and second, that the very person to drive such an incongruous machine would be Peter Wyhinny.

Volkswagen Racing spent two months applying its sorcery to a 1.9-litre Caddy TDI, and on 15 September 2002 Peter became, as far as anyone seems to be aware, the first person to go circuit racing in a van. At Thruxton that day, he finished second last, and that was generally considered to be a Result.

A lot has gone on since then. Peter has become the boss of SEAT UK, but he's managed to persuade Volkswagen Commercial Vehicles to continue with the project. The Caddy has become one of the best-loved machines in British motorsport, partly because its incongruous looks belie the fact that it is now very quick, to the point of being a genuine front-runner in the Volkswagen Cup.

Hang on, though. I've missed a bit. The Caddy that Peter races now is not the one that was created in 2002. It couldn't be, because there's a new generation of Caddy now; the old Polo-based vehicle has been replaced by one based on the Golf floorpan, and VCE could hardly put its name to something that was no longer in production.

So a second racer has been developed from the new model, and it's quite a serious piece of kit. For a start, the 2.0 TDI turbo diesel engine has been uprated from its standard 140bhp to a much more impressive 260bhp, by the relatively simple means of fitting a larger turbo and new fuel injectors, and remapping the ECU.

(Actually, the van has been tested with 280bhp, but there are problems with that. Reliability suffers, for a start, and 260bhp is also the maximum acceptable for the van in the Volkswagen Cup, which runs to a power-to-weight ratio formula. Since the van's aerodynamics become a serious problem above 95mph, Peter would like to be able to run with more power by way of compensation, but he can't argue the point too strongly with the Cup organisers since he's running a Volkswagen-funded racer against self-financing privateers.)

Other parts of the conversion include a large and comprehensive rollcage (which contributes at least as much to body stiffness as it does to safety) and a coil-spring rear suspension arrangement to replace the standard leaf springs, which are ideal for a van but hopeless for a race car because they allow the beam axle to float all over the place. The van also runs slick tyres on special wheels, and it has sensational brakes, but much of it is still very close to standard - the six-speed gearbox, for example, is good enough for the job already, and has remained untouched.

I drove the original Caddy racer shortly after its Thruxton debut, and you can read about that in this feature. Recently an opportunity came up to try out its replacement on the Silverstone Grand Prix circuit (a surreal venue for testing a van, I couldn't help thinking) and I have to tell you the whole experience was an absolute blast from start to finish.

The new version feels much more like a developed race car than the old one did, but there's never any doubt that its origins are, to say the least, unhelpful. Compared with a "proper" racer, it's not very keen to turn into corners (though it would feel better with a high-ratio steering rack), and once you're in the best way of continuing the process is to slide the tail round. Since the rear suspension is still fairly crude in motorsport terms, despite the conversion to coil springs, the slide quickly turns into a bounce, and the whole business quickly starts to feel rather peculiar.

But it's effective. Imagine the scene: you persuade the nose to head into the corner, you get the tail moving, you accept the bouncing as part of the Caddy's behaviour, and after a few seconds of general hilarity you finally emerge from the corner (or, as is often the way at Silverstone, the series of corners) and head off down the next straight feeling that that was all great fun but that it can't have been very effective.

And then you notice something. During this test I shared the track with all sorts of exotic vehicles, including a Ferrari, a Bentley Continental and several Lotus Elises, not one of which could sniff at the Caddy through the bends. So you go through the whole screechy, bouncy process, and then you check the mirror and notice that, say, the Elise which was all over you on the way in is now just a blurred dot in the mirror. And you think, well, fair enough, I'm on slicks and that guy's on road tyres, and maybe he doesn't have much track experience . . . but my God, that's a Lotus and this is a van! And you smile to yourself. Possibly you even have a little chuckle.

In a straight line the Caddy doesn't seem very quick, largely because it's quiet for a racer (most of what you hear is echoes from the huge metal box immediately behind you) and doesn't rev very high (there's no point in revving beyond 5000rpm because nothing of any consequence happens after that). And of course it's being held back by all that aerodynamic drag. But it will still reach 120mph down the Hangar Straight, which wasn't much help against the Bentley but was certainly enough to give the Elises something to think about.

Hurling a Caddy round Silverstone is more fun than I could possibly have imagined. The very idea of racing a van seems bizarre, but this is a wonderfully endearing project, and Peter Wyhinny is working hard to persuade Volkswagen Commercial Vehicles that it should continue. I hope he succeeds.

Back to Sport Features index
Back to main Features index