As an avid racing driver with experience on and off the track, I suffer with the somewhat common affliction of over-competitiveness on the road, as a result I’ve had many skirmishes with like-minded drivers, most of whom I had a pleasant chat with afterwards because driving doesn’t have to be an angry sport. However, a few of these below will inevitably have a slightly more road-ragey aire about them.

To begin, I’ll tell you my roster of vehicles:

My main driver is a 2015 BMW 435d with somewhere between 370 and 390 horses at the crank, with an accompanying >730nm of torque. The latter is definitely the more prominent quirk of the vehicle, being a 3 litre diesel and all, the tidal wave of torque in the lower end of all 8 gears is staggering and the upper end power isn’t too shabby thanks to the sequential twins boosting the dirty diesel. As modifications go, she comes equipped with a slightly larger intercooler, better breathing air filter and of course, a remap. 0-60 sits at around 4 seconds flat on a good day thanks to xDrive and the top speed is upwards of 170mph, but an M4 she isn’t.

My second, and somehow much more aggressive project car, is but a 2009 Ford Focus TDCi. Having owned this little demon for over 5 years, she’s had a fair share of money spent on boosting her up to at least near hot hatch level. Sitting at a measly 110hp and 240nm stock, I knew I’d have to really upgrade some parts to get the most out of the pointed handling and the great steering feel. This 1.6 diesel has accumulated, over the years, a hybrid turbo, bigger injectors, a bigger intercooler, a remarkably stable DPF-back exhaust among transmission strengthening upgrades and some less comfortable suspension. She now sits at about 180hp and 370nm, still not amazing but there’s some grunt there for sure.

Finally, there’s the little runabout, my 2013 BMW 116i with the underclocked John Cooper Works engine, it took only a little bit of tinkering to get this magnificent investment to 220hp and an accompanying near 400nm of torque. Being my only rear-driven car, this little machine only really shines in the sunshine, where the smooth power delivery of a BMW four-pot can surprise even more powerful hatches on the road.

Anyway, I’m just going to outline a few of my races below, and any stories the drivers have had to tell afterwards.

1. 435d vs. W204 Mercedes C63

Winner: C63

This one happened only a few days ago, approaching a nice straight road from a roundabout, I spotted this V8 sleeper by its numerous exhausts and I knew it’d be fun if he was up for playing. Although he wasn’t punching it through the corner, I put the car in Sport+ and the gearbox in S just in case, and I was very right in doing so.

As I began my overtake, the glorious 6.2 litre V8 sprung to life, sounding that magnificent exhaust note and propelling the mid-size Merc into a very entertaining drag race. As far as reactions went, I had the advantage, as I had begun my acceleration before him and I doubt he was in a sporty setting though his kickdown was both quick and audibly orgasmic. Oddly enough, we stayed neck and neck for a while, my diesel seeming to keep up even into the three-figure speeds – but then, as expected, the Merc began to gain, and gain, and gain. Still, not bad for a car with 80hp less.

The conversation I had with the driver post-race restored my faith in peaceful and respectful competition, he didn’t rub it in my face that his car was faster, and even threw in a “You nearly had me there, definitely didn’t expect that much of a challenge” to quell my non-existent embarrassment, after a thumbs up and some revs, we sped off until we parted ways; nice!

2. Focus vs BMW E90 320i

Winner: Draw

Going back a few months, one of the street races I remember most fondly was between my little Focus and a beautifully maintained blue 320i, 170hp model to be exact. The driver and I happened to get talking at the traffic lights before we started competing, where the young man admitted it was his dad’s car he was driving. Nevertheless, he seemed unfazed by the notion of a little drag race through a beautiful tunnel near my home. The lights went green, my Focus lept into life in what remains one of my proudest ever launches: minimal wheelspin, short shift into second, let the turbo do its thing. From 0-60 I had him pipped to the post, the additional torque aiding my acceleration over the BMW on the slight incline before the tunnel. It wasn’t long before he caught up, and we remained fairly stagnant up to about 120mph, both cars sitting so comfortably at this speed, in fact, that we pulled faces at each other like children as we shot through the dimly-lit tunnel.

It so happened, that we needed to come off at the same turning, so, I put aside my dreams of dangerously pushing past the nice man, and respectfully pulled behind. After we exited, we were met with another, not one, but two sets of traffic lights, albeit with much shorter straights in which to prove ourselves. The first, I have no shame in admitting, I lost. The blue Beemer lurched forward, spinning its rear wheels in a display of beautiful antisocial behaviour. This, combined with my total shitstain of a launch, got him a well deserved win… this time. I was not ready to be defeated so easily, however, so I decided to enact a daunting theory I’d been playing around with for the next little drag. Modern launch control systems typically rev diesels to about 3000rpm, but by that point I knew the Focus would simply spin its way to third gear. Instead, I revved up to about 2500rpm, letting the clutch off slightly to give the turbos more throttle to gather much-needed boost, and off we went. This time, there were no holds barred, if I was to prove myself to any degree, I needed to be on point with every shift, and even though his launch was nearly as brilliant as his last, I got him.

Being in the right lane again, and knowing that I’d need to come in a lot sooner than my last endeavour, I pushed every last horsepower I had out of the little banger, somehow managing to just get ahead by the 90mph mark enough to come in safely and seriously surprise the Golf 5 GT TDi revving behind me. And with that, BMW man and I bid each other adieu, a smile on both our faces.

3. 435d vs Tuned E92 BMW 330d

Winner: 435d

Lots of races on the road are happy ordeals between two people who love their vehicles and respect others’ cars too. This was no such experience, and remains a more mean-spirited stain on my record.

As a BMW driver myself, I try to distance myself from the stereotype of an opportunistic, boisterous arsehole, and while I absolutely drive fast, I find far too much guilt in muscling my way into spaces and tailgating slower vehicles to even attempt it. The bellend behind me in this instance, however, possessed no such morals. Though I was sitting at a comfortable 60mph behind a bright red Ford Fiesta, the impatient man behind me in a metallic blue-silver 3 series was far from happy, and remained an unhealthy 8 inches from my rear at any given point.

Being a three-lane road, the Fiesta did the respectable thing and moved aside when the coast was clear, obviously understanding that while I wasn’t pressuring him to do so, the driver behind me was ready to undertake us both at any chance. Thinking nothing of it, and assuming this was a jumped up 320d, I subtly accelerated enough to outmatch such a vehicle and remained in comfort mode with some cheesy 80’s hits playing from Spotify. It was at this moment I began to realise that the car behind me had not gotten any smaller, and had effortlessly kept up with whatever amount of power I’d put down. He meant business.

Off went the stereo, I engaged every sport mode and waited for the inevitable undertake attempt. In my head, the worst case scenario was that this was a sleeper 335i because truly, nothing else could match. I was lucky enough to see the (blacked out) 330d badge as he attempted to pass me, by which point my foot was so far into the floor I could’ve broken the pedal. I watched as the speedo climbed to double my original speed and more, with the older car not trailing too far behind until well above 120mph. I laughed it off as I flew into the sunset, though this is naïve at the best of times.

5 minutes passed, two lanes over from me I see the same light coloured BMW racing towards me, so I floored it again and toyed with him a bit now that I’d ascertained the performance gap between the cars. He’d certainly had something done to it, and I’d be a fool to say it wasn’t pushing well above 300hp, alas, he could not pass.

That’s when the shouting started, we stopped at some lights some 20 minutes after our little tet-a-tet and this meathead of a man decided to take his anger out on me, screaming every expletive and hitting parts of his own car in some futile display of primitive dominance. I’d had enough of him by the time the lights went green, and being an all-wheel drive car next to a rear-wheel drive one, I switched on my launch control and utterly destroyed his final attempt to get past me, which involved jumping the launch before the lights were even yellow and nearly skidding into me with a display of poor oversteer discipline. Shame.

4. 435d vs Stage 2 Focus ST

Winner: 435d (just!)

Back to races with a modicum of respectful competition, I ran into a beautiful example of a Focus mark 2 ST on the motorway, finished in the classic orange and with the five-pot rumbling away, I knew some fun could be had with what was arguably last-generation’s greatest hot hatch. I sidled alongside him, approaching 100mph before the race had even begun, which provided a great disadvantage for my car given its diesel gearing and all-wheel transmission. Nevertheless, I struck up a small non-verbal conversation through the window, essentially commending the man on his lovely example of a favourite car of mine.

I signalled that he and I ought to enact a playful skirmish, and accompanied with an audibly satisfying downshift on his part, the race was on. I switched to using the paddles for shifting to avoid the diesel 6-pot revving out too much and running out of puff. We slowed to just over 80, three pumps on the horn, and we were off. The torque of the 6 cylinder in the BMW was unmatched for the start, and I sped off until 115 without any fear of the orange peril on my tail. That’s when things started to tip the tables in his favour, the more usable power band in the Focus began to outweigh my higher peak figures and before long he caught up while we were healthily flying along at 135. The remainder of the race was almost stagnant between the two vehicles, each manual shift being slower than my ZF auto, but each gear of mine running out long before his own. By 150, I’d started to pull away again, the only reason which I can think of being my improved aerodynamics

And with that, the race was over, my car nudging itself ahead in the final 5 seconds. We stopped at a service station down the road coincidentally and ended up sitting side-by-side in the car park with a fresh Burger King and some great jokes. Turns out the car had an exhaust modification among RS injectors and a remap to a very healthy 300bhp. This remains one of my favourite ever races as the entertainment wasn’t in who would win, but in how much both parties love their motors and could appreciate the other’s. Be more like Mr Focus ST.

5. 435d (stock) vs Civic FK2 Type-R

Winner: 435d

On the same road as my glorious escapade with the Focus a month later, I first ran into a very loud, very modified Civic with a young, inexperienced driver at the wheel. This was nowhere near as mean-spirited as my time with the 3 series, but was certainly no friendly drag race.

Picture this: I’m in the third lane, speeding along, nothing in front of me and sparse traffic all around. Ahead of me, I spot a matte black… thing weaving between lanes to avoid waiting for other people to move out of the way, almost something out of a bootleg Need for Speed game, if I must say.

As I draw closer, I recognise the shape in front of the gigantic (and pointless) rear wing. Ah, a Civic stereotype, I see. I put down a little more power and catch up pretty effortlessly, the Honda now squarely in front of me. What little traffic there was subsided and the young man inside, assuming I was but a 420d or something innocuous like that, moved aside to the middle lane. Immediately, I level with him, expecting a playful race, but by the time I’d looked across to evaluate the type of situation, the Honda had decided to get the jump on me and floored it away. Foolish move, boy.

I picked up the pace as fast as I possibly could, and to my surprise easily caught up and surpassed the little Japanese hatch (probably the drag from the stupid wing, ahem). Approaching 120 wasn’t quite as rapid as it is now that she’s tuned, but it was more than a match for the go-to screaming hatchback of the young. Thanks to traffic, he pulled in behind me, visibly anguished by how easily I’d overcome his pitiful 200 or so horses. This embarrassment, however, let to quite possibly the most dangerous bit of driving I’ve seen for a long while, as if re-enacted a consequence-less racing game, once the coast was clear in his mind, he came back out to the middle and attempted another fruitless pass. He did this completely unaware of the Nissan Qashqai coming out from the left to overtake a lorry, and proceeded to swerve dangerously close to both the innocent Qashqai and the central reservation of the road. Never, ever drive in anger, it’ll get you ki