Tan Drives Fast, Stays Cool

Women make better drivers than men, said Rose Tan. “Women are much calmer in crucial situations. Calmness is important in racing,” she says. “They are multifunctional and can handle several things at the same time. And they have less pressure than men in competition. I believe men can focus on only one thing at a time.”

Tan is certainly qualified to offer an opinion. The 36-year-old freelance journalist and driving instructor is also one of China's few women race drivers: and one of the few genuine success stories in the sport.

Tan and her Lotus Exige “Little Missy” came in second in the 2006 Lotus Challenge Open Class Championship, losing only to Kevin Tse in the last lap of the last race.

“There were many sweet moments such as the overall race win in round two of this year’s championship,” said her engineer Alan Betts. “There were painful moments, too, but Rose and Little Missy always bounced back.”

By the end of 2006, Betts said, “Rose had developed the ability to drive consistently fast as evidenced by two pole positions in the last race weekend and a new lap record for a Lotus of 1.52.36 in qualifying for round five.”

Tan was working at a trading company in 1999 when she and a girlfriend went to check out the selection trials for women drivers for a race called the Golden Wheel Super Rally Cross.

“At that time, I was bored with my job and eager to do something fun,” she said. “There were 40 female entrants and three were picked to take part in the race the following week; I was one of them.”

She knew nothing about racing, Tan admits. Yet, of the six women drivers in the Golden Wheel race, she was the only one to make it to the final 16.

“Looking back, my first two competitions were amazing,” she said. “It was most unlikely that anyone would reach the final 16 without any training.”

The only explanation was that she was gifted in the sport. Six months later, Tan took part in the Mitsubishi Lancer Challenge Cup, finishing ninth. And so began the racing career of the daughter of two Beijing workers in a full-time rich man’s world.

“Most of the other drivers are much richer than I am. Many of their families can provide up to 1 million yuan (US$131,272) for training. Sometimes I envy them.

“When I am asked, ‘Do you practice?’ I have to say, ‘No.’ A one-day practice session costs a whole month's salary for an average Beijinger (about 2,000 yuan–3,000 yuan or US$263–$394), because you need a complete team to work for you, and you need to rent a racing car.”

Tan is too frightened to practice on Beijing roads: they are too dangerous, she says.

“Some people just treat the roads like parks, wandering across them all the time. You have to be more alert. Racing is another way around. I have to focus on myself.

“I drive much faster in races and it’s enjoyable. On the street, I worry about the sudden appearance of a pedestrian or a bike or a sudden turn or lane change. I am very careful about these things.”

By comparison, she can relax at the circuit: “My competitors are more or less at the same level. I don’t worry even if I get very close to their cars. Even when there are accidents, they don’t leave shadows on my mind." Her car once hit a wall at the first turn in a race and Tan simply climbed into another car and finished the race without worrying at all. “Racing a car is like a closed road where you are responsible only for yourself and your car.”