I made a mistake as I was doing my third lap around the Clark International Speedway. For the first two, I concentrated on following the proper racing line (indicated by a series of cones) and minding my shift points. This time, however, as I passed the 150-meter brake marker board at the start-finish straight, I glanced down at my speedometer: 160 km/h. Holy crap. My balls were literally in my throat, as I scrubbed off some off that speed into turn one. With just a nudge of the steering wheel (no sawing necessary), the Honda Civic Type R swung in without drama; not a hint of tire screech nor hesitation. This, I thought, is what real stuff is made of.
