Behind the Wheel of Subaru's WRX STI Global Rallycross Car

It’s one of the great ironies of shifting a sequential transmission that sometimes it is quicker—and a hell of a lot more controllable—to use the clutch pedal. According to Patrik Sandell, one of Subaru’s two team drivers in the Red Bull Global Rallycross series, this is the smart way through the gravel: clutching between gears to reduce the massive wheelspin otherwise produced by simply yanking the shift lever at wide-open throttle. We caught up with Subaru Rally Team USA in April outside of Phoenix as it tested the redesigned-for-2017 Subaru GRC cars. We drove the 2016 car, which is heavier and less powerful than this year’s car because, well, because we’re not Patrik Sandell.

Subaru’s WRX STI GRC car is faster than I am. It’s faster than you are. And judging by the gladiatorial antics demonstrated at the races, most every GRC car is faster than the hotshot getting paid to drive it. And with no electronic oversight—traction control and stability control are both banned in GRC—that’s a fine distinction in this sport. In GRC, as in mixed martial arts and probably a few other ego-fueled battle sports, being a gladiator is more frequently rewarded than is being reluctant. It looks a lot cooler, too.

But back to the sequential transmission. It’s a macho component, purposeful and without flourish. Pull the lever at redline and it feels as if you’re accomplishing something serious. There’s a dull, mechanical-sounding pop that accompanies every shift, a moment where, for once, anyone using the thing gets to feel like a hero. And like all purposeful machines, it requires effort. Being deliberate is a must, but when it’s done right it’s rewarding on a level only driving enthusiasts can appreciate. There’s noise. The kind that you might imagine would come from a John Deere S-series combine gnawing its way through a Yugo. In reality, it’s the sound of straight-cut gears working in a case that’s directly mounted to the chassis, as is the engine. Despite this, every upshift brings not just more speed, but also the urge for more shifting. It’s like a drug, this thing.

First gear is gone so fast that it might as well not exist. Bang. Second brings a sense of this car’s deadly effectiveness at covering ground. Bang. Third makes me feel like I can actually drive this car. Bang. Fourth . . . wait. Now I’m moving quickly enough to know that third was lying. Bang. Fifth, uh, cool it, Zippy, you’re a cubicle jockey who also happens to drive cars—don’t transpose those skills. And don’t mistake this for a production car. GRC cars, despite their production roots, are to production cars what an F-22 Raptor is to a Piper Cub.

Despite the powertrain’s brawn, the key component of every GRC car is its suspension. The 2016 car uses tubular subframes front and rear, which locate custom-made links and control arms. Inverted Öhlins TPX struts up front are supported by two links per side. A control-arm rear suspension is made from tubular steel and managed by Öhlins TTX dampers. The dampers at both ends are adjustable for high- and low-speed compression and rebound and look like something found on a desert-racing truck, massive and anodized—far too showy for something that’s never actually visible. The race team won’t reveal how much travel the 2016 car has but notes that the 2017 cars have 25 percent more up front and 35 percent more in the rear.

The GRC STI’s six-speed Sadev gearbox is coupled to center and rear differentials from the same company. The front differential is made by the tiny Swedish firm Sellholm. Both axles and the center diff use tunable multiplate clutches to control slip. The EJ20-based engine uses a custom crankshaft, rods, cams, and pistons. Dual 630-cc-per-minute injectors pump 105-octane VP racing fuel to the cylinders. A Precision turbocharger feeds up to 40.6 psi of boost through a massive intercooler and a 45-millimeter restrictor to produce between 540 and 550 horsepower at 6400 rpm and 620 lb-ft of torque. There’s a Pectel SQ6M ECU controlling the whole fracas and there is anti-lag. Oh, is there ever anti-lag. Let’s pause there for a moment.

Anti-lag, for those who don’t know, is a system that maintains boost when you lift off the throttle, allowing for immediate response when it’s time to get back on the gas. No waiting for the manifold, plumbing, and intercooler to repressurize. Subaru’s fresh-air anti-lag system reroutes air from upstream of the throttle body into the exhaust manifold, where it mixes with unburned fuel from the cylinders (the ECU opens the injectors during throttle closures) and high-temperature exhaust gases. Secondary combustion takes place in the exhaust manifold, spinning the turbine wheel and maintaining boost. When active, it ensures that throttle inputs are met with an immediate torque response. Also, it transforms the car from clinically fast to clinically insane. Every time I breathe the throttle, the nose lifts, the tires squirm, and my adrenal glands are sent into contortions.

So it doesn’t help that when I’m finally told I can drive with the anti-lag turned on that every bit of enthusiasm for this moment is routed directly through my right foot. I’m all gas all the time, but I’m chasing. Chasing the steering then braking too much, then chasing the steering again. There’s huge potential here, but this isn’t a simple car to drive. Like most machines that compete on loose surfaces, it’s not sharp like a road-racing car. There’s substantial pitch under throttle—which makes it hard to see over the hood—and its nose eats the tarmac under braking, lightening the rear end significantly. This softness is a necessary compromise to accommodate the huge suspension travel needed for the 70-foot jumps these cars must land at every race. The GRC STI might not be mil-spec precise, but it is the most capable—and quickest—car I’ve ever driven.

For its part, Subaru’s GRC car is glad to drive you if you’re not driving it. Every control needs a deliberate input and operates with genuine heft. But it’s also a proper race car. It makes open-class rally cars feel downright slow, which they are not. And at 2998 pounds fully laden with its driver and fuel, it is still 77 pounds over the GRC minimum weight, which is part of the reason it was reworked for the 2017 season.

Although the new cars aren’t dominating the series (that honor falls to the Volkswagen Beetles prepared by Andretti Autosport and driven by Tanner Foust and Scott Speed), they are slowing the VW advance. Subaru Rally Team’s new cars took four podiums in the last five rounds of the season and five podiums in 12 events overall, a sure sign of their competitiveness.

On the single gravel turn used at the Phoenix test track, a quick yank on the handbrake is all that’s needed to make the car turn-in. But I pull and hold, over-rotating and then sawing at the wheel to chase down a tank-slapper (as shown about 20 seconds into the above video). I gather it up just in time to brake for the next corner. On my last lap, I finally process Sandell’s words. Using the clutch for upshifts in the gravel calms wheelspin, makes the car more controllable, and offers hope that maybe I’m only two steps behind this thing’s frenetic pace.

GRC cars, even this dated version, are terrifying, spectacular, and otherworldly—equal parts raw hubris and purposeful elegance. That something this rapid must actually be driven exclusively by a human endows it with character sorely lacking in virtually everything we drive on the street today. But it matters little. I’ll never look cool doing it. And I’ll never be fast enough.