Alright, so folks have been asking me, or at least I imagine they have, about how one goes about doing donuts in a car. It’s one of those things, you see it, looks like a bit of a laugh, and a part of you just wants to know how it’s done. Well, I’m here to share my own little journey with it. Wasn’t exactly a straight line to success, let me tell you.
The Itch and The (Not-So-Great) Idea
It started, like many things, with me just thinking, “Hey, that looks fun.” I’d seen it in movies, you know, cars spinning around, smoke everywhere. Seemed like a proper laugh. I didn’t have a race car or anything fancy. But my mate, let’s call him Tom, had this old rear-wheel drive thing. Nothing special, seen better days, which, in hindsight, was probably perfect. He was pretty chill, said I could give it a go as long as I didn’t wrap it around a pole. Fair enough, I reckoned.
First things first, we needed a spot. This is super important, and I can’t stress this enough. We’re not talking about your local supermarket car park after hours. No way. We spent a good afternoon scouting and found this massive, totally empty patch of tarmac at an old industrial site that was shut down. Miles from anywhere. Perfect. Safety first, always, even when you’re about to do something a bit daft.
My Glorious First (Failed) Attempts
So, I hopped into Tom’s car. Felt a bit like a kid. He just told me, “Make sure you turn off that traction control button.” Found it, pressed it. A little orange light popped up on the dashboard. “Right,” I thought, “this is it. Easy peasy.”
Famous last words. My first few tries were, to put it mildly, a complete joke. One time, I just revved the engine and the car sort of lurched forward and stalled. Embarrassing. Another time, I managed to get the back wheels spinning, but the car just kind of fishtailed wildly and I nearly spun out in a very uncontrolled, panicky way. Tom was leaning against his own car, arms crossed, trying not to laugh too loud. I could hear him though. “Not quite a donut yet, mate!” he’d shout. The smell of burning rubber was strong, mixed with the lovely aroma of my own frustration.
I was genuinely starting to think this was one of those things that just looked easy but was actually rocket science. My “donuts” were more like sad, lopsided squiggles.
Figuring It Out, Bit by Bit
After what felt like an age, and using up a fair bit of petrol just making noise and dust, Tom decided to step in. He wasn’t a pro, but he’d messed about a bit more than I had. He explained it wasn’t just about brute force. There was a bit of a technique to it.
Here’s what I started to piece together, with his help and a lot of trial and error:
- Traction Control OFF: This is non-negotiable. If it’s on, the car’s computer will just cut the power when the wheels start to spin. Double-check it’s off.
- The Initial Kick: You need to get the back end to step out. For me, with that old car, it was a sharp turn of the steering wheel and then a good, firm press on the accelerator. Not just flooring it, but enough to break traction. Some folks use the handbrake to initiate it, especially with front-wheel drive, but we were in a RWD.
- Counter-Steer: This was the magic ingredient I was missing. As soon as that back end starts to slide out, you’ve got to quickly steer the other way – into the slide. Sounds weird, but it’s how you control it.
- Throttle Control: This is the real dance. You can’t just keep your foot planted. You need to play with the gas, feed it in, ease off, to keep the car rotating smoothly around the front wheels. Too much gas, you spin out. Too little, and the car straightens up.
My first “proper” one, well, it wasn’t a perfect circle. More like a wobbly egg. But the car was actually spinning! I was hooting, Tom was cheering. It felt like I’d cracked the Enigma code or something. We spent the rest of the afternoon there. My circles got a bit tighter, a bit smoother. I even started to get a feel for balancing the throttle and steering. It’s a proper workout for your coordination, I tell ya.
What I Took Away From It
Looking back, learning to do donuts was a laugh, but it also taught me a bit more about car control. It’s not just about being a yobbo; it’s about understanding how a car reacts when it loses grip. And that takes practice, in the right place.
Seriously, the most important bit is finding a safe, private, empty space. Don’t be that person trying this stuff on public roads or in a busy area. It’s dangerous, stupid, and you’ll just end up in trouble or worse. We were lucky to have that abandoned place. We even made sure there was no mess left behind, other than some tire marks that would wash away with the next rain.
So, that’s my story of learning to do donuts. Lots of clumsy moments, a bit of help, and finally getting it. It’s one of those skills you might not use every day, or ever again really, but it’s satisfying to know you can. And it was a good way to spend an afternoon with a mate and an old car that didn’t mind a bit of fun.
