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Tanks for Everything!

This year for our anniversary Mary got me the most unbelievably awesome present known to man; the Mega Manoeuvres tank driving experience from Tanks for Everything. These chaps have six military vehicles you can drive around their purpose-built track, including two tanks, a T-55 (named Boris) and a Centurion (named Maximus). O for awesome.

Matt is the mechanic as well as the instructor. He takes you through the ins and outs of each vehicle, and you learn a little of the history of each as well as how to drive it. It can be intimidating driving several vehicles in one day, most which are quite different from anything you’ve ever driven before, but Matt is a patient teacher and does a great job of getting you to grips with them.

Jeep

The first vehicle in the fleet you drive is a 1950s Jeep. I had just finished painting up a few Jeeps for the US Airborne force I was taking to NICon that weekend, so it was quite cool to see one in the flesh and spot all the mistakes I’d made. :) The biggest difference was the addition of a roll-bar, which I was happy about!

I was a bit nervous at first, having never driven a proper four-wheel drive vehicle over rough terrain, let alone a 60-year-old one. It turned out to handle just fine once I got used to it, although afterwards Matt informed me that I was a bit rough at the beginning. :)

It drove just like a standard manual transmission car, with a 3-speed gearbox (from memory, it may have been four?). I felt almost every bump in the road, but it bounced its way around the course with ease. The final feature on the course is a short, steep, 8-foot high bump. Matt rather nervously informed me to keep going dead ahead as the horizon drops to avoid rolling off the side; a bit freaky but we got over safe and sound.

Ferret

The Ferret is a wheeled scout car, designed by Daimler in the early 1950s to replace the Dingo. When you get into this vehicle, you really get the sense that it’s designed for form over function; with the exception of armour plating, there’s not much included for crew comfort! I’m lucky to be a lean chap as there’s not much wiggle room in the driver’s seat. You need to go feet-first in from the top hatch, as once you’re in there’s no room for manoeuvring. Once you’re in position, you’ve got three small hatches open in front of you for vision. They can all be closed in a hurry for extra protection, in which case you’re stuck with a periscope for navigation. Good luck to you in that case!

By your feet you have a clutch, brake, and accelerator, and there’s a gearstick to your left so it looks like a normal car. However the gearbox is a preselector gearbox. This was the first time I’d encountered one; in order to change gear, you move the gearstick to the gear you want to change in to. You then take your foot off the accelerator, push the clutch all the way in, then release it and ease back onto the accelerator, and you’re in the new gear. So it’s similar to a manual, but once you’re experienced you can use it more quickly. For example, if you’ve just changed into second and you know you’ll be in third soon, you can preselect third gear and then just push the clutch in and out when you’re ready. Similarly, you can preselect second when you know you’ll be going into a tight bend or a steep climb soon. It does mean that if you forget which gear you’re in, a quick glance at the gearstick isn’t going to be any help at all. But everybody remembers which gear they’re in, right?

The Ferret has three rear windows to facilitate driving in reverse. The commander is meant to guide the driver vocally; sounds absolutely terrifying. The gearbox has full reverse gears, so it can drive just as quickly in both directions.

It’s great fun to drive around the track. It’s got a lot of power so it zips around, and it handles nicely. To save space the steering wheel is actually angled away from you, almost perpendicular to your body. As a result you can only grip the wheel at the very top, which is a bit weird at first.

The first thing you have to adapt to is being in the middle of the vehicle, so you have to keep yourself in the middle of the track instead of off to one side. The next thing to get used to is the lack of a windscreen! You’re completely exposed to the outside world, which means tearing up when the wind hits your eyes and water splashing through if you take puddles too quickly. The driver is placed much lower than in the Jeep, so you’re more prone to getting wet. When you’re driving through puddles in the Ferret it’s entirely over to you as to how wet you want to get. :) I chickened out in front of the big puddle at the end of the course and took it slowly, and immediately regretted it.

Saracen

The next vehicle on the list is the Saracen, a wheeled APC produced in the 1950s. It holds eight to nine people in the back, plus the driver in the front. You couldn’t pay me enough to take a ride in the back though. From the photos you can see it’s cramped, and the ride is bouncy up front so I’m assuming it’d be vomit-inducing cooped up in the back with eight big smelly men.

Matt isn’t exactly fond of the vehicle, and described its movement around the course as ‘wallowing’, a term I agreed with after driving it. In its favour, the controls are almost identical to the Ferret’s, so it’s easy to progress to. You’ve still got the preselector gearbox, the ignition is identical, and same angled steering wheel is there. You’re still in the middle of the vehicle too. The drivetrain or camshaft or whatever it is (the huge rod that runs down the length of the vehicle) goes right under the driver’s seat, so your legs have to spread wide apart to go around it.

I had the oddest sense of detachment while driving the Saracen. It almost feels like it’s floating around the track, and you’re just nudging it left and right around the corners. You move the steering wheel in the general direction you want the Saracen to go, and after a few seconds it’ll get around to it. It moves so ponderously, and the steering wheel jumps around so much in your hands, that you’re never really sure how much control you really over it.

I got a real feeling of the size of the vehicle, and how it helps even out the ride. When driving the Saracen I wasn’t as aware of the dips and bumps in the road, and the puddles didn’t bother it all. When I barrelled through water I could see the splashes, but the water didn’t come through the open windscreen like in the Ferret.

FV432

The FV432 is a fully-tracked APC. It’s the first tracked vehicle on the list, and the first tracked vehicle I’d ever driven. To get in, I went in from the top; down the hatch at the front of the roof and right into the driver’s seat. You can get in from the rear (the driver’s seat back actually folds down so you can crawl into it), but you need to be a bit of a contortionist. The driver sits on the right side of the vehicle, so you must unlearn all that you have learned. About driving in the middle. Which isn’t much.

There’s no steering wheel, instead you’ve got two steering levers which can be moved towards and away from you. They also double as the handbrake; the first thing to do when you hop in is pull each level toward you, click the button on top, and push them away from you as far as they’ll go. With my puny little muscles I had to do each one separately with both hands, but a tough army bloke could do it one-handed I’m sure.

The FV432 is fully automatic, so all you need to do is push the ignition button, wait for her to warm up, and push the accelerator down. It’s quite cool hearing the tracks go click-click-click and realising you’re in control. Tee hee! To steer, you pull one of the steering levers toward you to slow down that side’s track, thereby turning you in that direction. Matt explained exactly how it slows down the track, and the three tracked vehicles all had different techniques I think, but I can’t remember exactly how it worked. Not important really! Overall it feels very similar to using a steering wheel and doesn’t take long to get used to at all.
I got a great impression of why tracks are superior to wheels over rough terrain. The Saracen was smoother than the Ferret, and the FV432 was smoother still. I still had to slow down just before going down into a dip, but the small bumps and holes I wasn’t even aware of. I could hear the water splashing up from the puddles but I couldn’t see it, let alone worry about getting wet.

T-55

Alriiiiight, on to the main event! Not to diminish from the experience of driving the previous four vehicles, but they are called Tanks for Everything.

Boris was having technical difficulties with his starter motor when I was there, so we thought a replacement vehicle was to take its place. However they’d figured out it was possible to tow start the T-55 with the FV432, which worked perfectly and was an awesome sight. Matt told us that to get to the starter motor he has to almost take the tank completely apart - T-55s weren’t built to be repaired it turns out.

The interior of the T-55 is tiny. The turret is cramped and dangerous; apparently if you weren’t careful you could have a hand, foot, or limb removed as the turret turned. No clue how peeps actually fought in these things!

Thankfully the driver’s seat is relatively comfy. It’s still designed for tiny people, but when it’s unbuttoned there’s plenty of space. The controls were suprisingly familiar; there was a small gear stick on the left that looked similar to the preselectors on the Ferret and Saracen. An old-school handbrake was on the right. Two steering levers were in front, and the three pedals on the floor.

Simple!

To get Boris moving, this was the procedure:

1. Shift into neutral.
2. Turn the engine on.
3. Start the engine.
4. Push the clutch in.
5. With both hands, pull the gear stick into second. It grinds as the gears are trying to mesh, but you have to keep pulling as hard as you can until it clicks into place.
6. Engage both steering levers; this drops the gear to 1.5.
7. Release the clutch and ease on the accelerator.
8. Once you’ve travelled five to ten metres, push the steering levers all the way forward to get into second gear.

Easy peasy! The RPMs don’t get too high in second, so you can go around the whole track without shifting into third. You do have an opportunity to do so on one of the straights, but I decided to stay in second. I didn’t fancy the idea of stalling a tank without a functional starter motor. Oh, and because I’m a wimp.

Despite the stench of the belching smoke and the tremendous volume of the engine purring right next to you, it’s easy to get caught up in driving and forget that fact you’re in a tank! What got me was the shadow of the barrel on the ground in front of the tank, moving as I pulled the steering levers. Awesome.

Despite being in a much heavier vehicle than the FV432, and driving right through puddles I skirted earlier in the day, I didn’t find taking Boris around the track as much fun as the FV432 because the steering system isn’t as flexible. Despite the steering levers having full traverse, you have to turn by pulling them toward you around six to eight inches only. Any more or less and it stresses the engine. Or something. The net effect is that steering is digital; you’re either turning left, going straight, or turning right. If you’re going around a long, gentle curve, you make a series of short, sharp turns. Tighter corners are easier, but you’ll be glad you’re wearing a helmet at the end of the ride!

Centurion

Maximus was absolutely awesome to drive. He was more complicated than Boris, but with a quieter engine and smooth steering was a joy to take around the track. I love this tank.

The Centurion is a bigger and roomier tank than the T-55, but still not exactly cosy. :) The driver has the three pedals on the floor, handbrake on the right and the two steering levers in front. The gear stick is a honking old-school contraption right in the middle of the floor, so it sticks up between your legs. Most humourous. To start Maximus up, here’s the general procedure:

1. Shift into neutral.
2. Turn the engine on.
3. Start the engine.
4. Push the clutch in.
5. Pull one of the steering levers towards you; this drops the RPMs.
6. Change into second gear.
7. Push the steering lever back.
8. Disengage the clutch and ease on the accelerator.

And you’re moving! You have to watch the RPMs in the Centurion, and it’s necessary to shift into third gear soon after you get moving. This is where it gets tricky. Matt told me to attempt the shift as we were rolling down a slope to avoid stalling. To upshift you have to repeat the process of getting into second gear; push in the clutch, drop the RPMs by pulling one steering lever towards you, shift gear with the other hand, then release the steering lever and finally the clutch while you’re gently accelerating. So it’s not exactly rocket science, but it’s still the most complex shifting procedure of any of the vehicles I drove on the day. And to somebody who’s not a gearhead, intimidating when you have to do it as you’re rolling down a slope before you hit the bottom. I actually managed to do it and got into third gear.

The steering is as smooth as it was on the FV432, and it’s great to finish on the Centurion after taking the T-55 out for a spin. It really makes you appreciate being able to turn as gently or as sharply as you want!

Matt egged me on to shift into fourth on the long straight, and I gave it a go but completely lost my coordination mid-shift. I don’t know exactly what happened, I think I end up staying in third, but the spectators claimed a jet of flame shot out of the back of the tank. Thankfully Matt and I were blissfully unaware of this!

I was still a bit flustered from my bungled shift and managed to stall just after I’d navigated Maximus into position for the car crush. Stalling a 52-ton vehicle is surprisingly smooth compared to a car - the engine goes dead, and that’s about it.

Car Crush

And on to the grand finalé, the car crush! They were trying something new, crushing a van instead of a car. Matt was explaining the potential problems; because the body of the van goes straight up, he was worried the tracks wouldn’t find purchase and would push the van instead of climbing on top and going over it. He and Jonathan, the owner, were pondering the problem over the day and agreed on a strategy. I was to get the left track (the one furthest from me and Matt, on the right of the tank) to aim directly for the right column of the van, then hit the accelerator. They agreed that this would give the best chance of getting on top of the van.

Matt gave me a warning about the potential for flying glass. As the windscreen is so high on a van, there was a possibility for it to end up on top of the tank instead of going underneath it. Which could mean flying towards us, decapitating me and doing all sorts of damage to Matt. So I was to keep my mouth shut to avoid eating any glass shards, and, if I got a whack on the top of the helmet from Matt, duck into the tank as quickly as I could. That is my kind of adventure tourism.

Jonathan stood behind the van and directed me in as we slowly approached the van. Once we were close and lined up as well as we could be, I floored it. The approach worked well, and the van (and thankfully the windscreen) went under the tank as it twisted. The tank was perched on top of it, ready to go over the whole thing, when I stalled again. I was worried about going over too quickly and not stopping in time; there was a risk if the tank went completely over and past the car, the corpse would get stuck in the tracks and munch the mudguards. So I buttoned off the accelerator on impact and it didn’t have enough power to finish climbing on top of the van. Not to worry! We started him up again and finished demolishing the van in first gear.

Matt took over at this point, to carry out the technical and arduous process of extricating Maximus from the wreckage. With judicious use of the reverse gear, first gear, and a giant crowbar, the Centurion burst free. Then I had one final go behind the wheel (levers?), reversing Maximus back on to the track and taking him twenty metres or so back home.

The experience was absolutely fantastic. The opportunity to drive so many different vehicles that I’d otherwise never get anywhere near was awesome, and, with Matt’s instruction, turned out to be a lot easier than I’d anticipated. I would thoroughly recommend driving all of the vehicles; you’re going to spend a lot anyway, you may as well go the whole hog and not worry about whether you’re missing out by skipping one or more of them. It’s great to feel the difference in the handling as you progress up in size; from the bouncy Jeep and Ferret, all the way to the tanks that roll over the rough ground like it’s a highway. I’d also recommend going during winter - puddles are fun.

Thanks for everything!