The Lancia 037 is a car I’ll never forget. Every drive, no matter how short, leaves an indelible mark. Walter Röhrl felt the same way in 1983, and for his birthday, I had to ask him about it one more time. Of course, I also asked him for his secret to driving fast. After hearing his answer, I was ready to shred my driver’s license. Thank you, Walter – and happy birthday.
“With the slightest movements, you could hold it in a drift. It responded wonderfully through the throttle. The engine had such great power at every RPM, consistent and immediate. If you focused hard enough, the steering wheel almost became unnecessary.”
Focus is everything: “If you’re distracted, nothing works.” His life has been defined by incredible discipline. Skipping nights out at the club because he had to be on his bike or in a rowing boat early in the morning. Going to bed early before rallies, meticulously reviewing the pace notes and then mentally driving the stages with his eyes closed. Even on the drive home from skiing, he needed to hear the snow under the tires as it changed from firm and powdery to icy and granular, then to slushy and wet down in the valley. “If you’re chatting with your passenger, singing along with the radio, or even worse, texting, you miss everything. You have to rely on ABS and ESP and then wonder why you suddenly end up in the ditch.”
Looking ahead, staying alert, and noticing the smallest details, that’s always been his key to success. He never relied on luck – his strict Catholic upbringing saw to that – and he was relentlessly hard on himself. Like in 1979, when he was leading by a wide margin in his Fiat 131 and heard the gearbox making strange noises. “I need to tell the guys to change it,” he thought, but missed a hairpin turn and crashed backwards into the gable of a farmhouse sitting 40 meters below the road. Unable to bear the shame, he walked the final five kilometers to the finish line and explained himself to his boss. The team wanted to tell the press that Röhrl had slipped on an oil patch in classic Italian fashion. “No way, tell them I was a giant idiot because I wasn’t paying attention!” he insisted.
When he hears people talk about how they “feel” what the car is doing, he remains unimpressed. “If you feel it, it’s already too late! You need to know what’s going to happen before it does – only then can you drive fast.” He often recalls the later Audi Quattros, which were monsters to drive. “You were too slow if you tried to think. It stepped out of line like someone had slammed into the rear at 30 mph. In corners, you just had to wrestle it and pray.”
He demonstrates this point in a new Porsche 911 Turbo as we drive together on a frozen lake in Levi, Finland. He picks up speed on the straight, swings the car into the curve, and adjusts its line with the throttle, grazing the snowbank with precision. The 540-horsepower engine flings snow high into the air. “With the Audi, we’d be in trouble right now,” he says, as he perfectly counter-steers. He casually changes the radio channel to silence the chief instructor announcing that the session is over and everyone should return to the meeting point.
“We’re a bit late; everyone else has left already!” He quickly gets his bearings, flicks the car into Sport Plus mode, shifts into manual, and what follows is a humbling experience. I’ve never witnessed anything like it before. Full throttle on sheer ice, spikes grinding, the engine howling, and Röhrl, with minimal effort, pushing the car to its absolute limit. The speedometer shows numbers that would make you nervous even on a straight highway, but he remains calm.
And silent. Because he’s focused.
That’s when it hits you. The demonstration laps, the patient mid-hot-lap interviews, the slides for the photographers – those were all just a show. For us, it felt like he was bending the laws of physics, but it wasn’t even close to what he’s truly capable of.
In that brief moment, as he coaxed the 911 Turbo into maneuvers that shouldn’t be possible with a car, while your brain frantically short-circuited, he sat there, focused and composed. A smile flickered across his face.
And suddenly, you realize: this is how you drive when your name is Walter Röhrl.
