Nigel Holland - The 50 List – A Father’s Heartfelt Message to his Daughter - Anything Is Possible

Which, as I say it, reminds me what an incredible feeling that will be. I know I’m not on my legs anyway – well, except when I’m in a swimming pool – but to be free of gravity for a few moments, to be supported by nothing but the airflow, for there to be no difference between what the instructor can do and what I can do – well, wow , just the thought of that is so liberating. I still feel nervous. But I know it’s in a good way.

What a rush! The experience is incredible, as exhilarating as it is surreal. Basically, we ‘fly’ in a vertical wind tunnel, essentially a Perspex-bound room within a room. Once you’re shut in it, the sense that it’s a tunnel is even stronger; it has a mesh floor, below which is a 20-foot drop to the bottom. It’s down there that the ‘wind’ that will lift us is generated, in the form of a large chamber that will expel airflow at approximately 140 mph, while above us is another 30 feet or so of headroom. And the windflow – the air that will keep me aloft – is greater than any storm I’ve ever experienced.

It feels amazing. I say ‘fly’ but what I’m really doing, once my instructor pulls me into position and we begin spinning upwards, is falling at terminal velocity. That’s the fastest speed at which a body can fall through the air towards the ground. Of course, I’m never going to hit the ground; that’s the point of the upward draught. Because the air is pushing me upwards I’m ‘falling’ for what feels like minutes at a time, my cheeks being moulded so that I feel as though I have a rubber face. It’s a powerful force; so much so that I have to wear goggles – without them my eyes would dry up like prunes. It’s also incredibly loud, despite the ear plugs I’ve been given. It really is an assault on all my senses.

We come back down to earth, but in my head, I’m still floating. I can see Ellie outside, sitting on the viewing bench with Lisa, Matt and Amy. And I can see from my older two children’s faces that they would both so love to be me right now. I make a mental note: must find the time and the money to allow them to experience this for themselves. Not to mention Ellie, even though I can see she has no appetite for it – not right now, anyway. Her expression is as anxious as Matt’s and Amy’s are awed. But though I know it has scared her, seeing her dad whirling high above her head in thin air, I really hope one day she tries this for herself.

Time to move on, though, and let someone else have a go. I can see a gaggle of new people now waiting, crammed into the flight room, all of them presumably thrill seekers just like me. Climbing back up into my wheelchair, I count around ten of them, and as I manoeuvre up to the seat I can’t resist it. ‘Brace yourselves,’ I quip, as they look on, in some confusion. ‘I didn’t need this thing before I went in there …’

Arrive at Silverstone racetrack for the second of the challenges. The kids are in an ebullient mood.

‘They said “action!”’ says Matt. ‘They actually do that. Go “action!” How cool is that?’

We all agree it’s pretty cool. Also cool is Lucy Seigle, I privately decide. She is full of life and energy, clearly knows a thing or two about cars, and seems genuinely interested when I tell her about my lifetime of doing motorsport activities. She’s also quite a character and, leading the convoy on the journey here, really put her foot down at one point. Needless to say, it was non-negotiable that I kept up with her. Rather a lot of male pride at stake …

Once again the BBC team couldn’t be nicer. I couldn’t be more excited now that we’re at a racetrack (I always am; in terms of earthly delights, it’s my spiritual home, this) and also now that we’re so close to another real highlight: being given free rein at the controls of a £60,000 off-roader, on their Porsche Driving Experience circuit.

It’s been a good while since I’ve been able to do anything like this and I really miss it. My last off-road experience was something like eight years ago, when I was still able to walk a few steps. My then neighbour, Graham, had a 1985 Range Rover, which he bought to use on green lanes and compete in. He kindly made some small adaptations so that I could drive it too, and we spent many happy times swapping duties as driver and navigator when we competed in various off-road trials. But, of course, the thing about CMT is that it progresses all the time, so, even with the adaptations he’d made to make driving off road possible for me, my days doing it were always numbered. Which was why it was now high on my 50 List.

Incredibly, technology has moved on so much that I am going to need no adaptations to drive this intelligent, gizmo-stuffed 21st-century brute, and I can’t wait to get going. My only regret is that the family can’t climb aboard and do it too.

‘Oh, but they can,’ Matt Ralph tells me as we finish off our briefing with Jeremy Palmer, the instructor. ‘Not with you, but they can certainly go out on the course with Jeremy afterwards.’ He turns to Lisa. ‘Would you like to?’ he asks her.

I don’t need to hear Lisa’s answer to know what it will be. I only have to look at my son’s expression. If mine’s an ‘icing on the cake’ one, his is a ‘cat that’s got the cream’ one. Cheshire cat as well, looking at that grin.

The Porsche Driving Experience circuit has been purpose built to demonstrate the off-road ability of their big 4x4, the Cayenne, and it’s designed to take the car to its limits. It has a hill with a precipitious 1:1 gradient, side tilts – like skateboarding ramps, only for grown-ups – that will force you to drive at a 45-degree angle, ascents and descents with the same sort of slope, and a section of course with a surface that’s so uneven that you mostly have to drive over it on two wheels.

In short, for a bloke like me, it is heaven. As I navigate it, half my mind is on how pleased I am that the kids will get a turn on it too. Matt especially. I half relish and half fret at the realization that he might have inherited my thrill-seeker gene. He is, I know, really going to love this.

And he’s not alone. Once I’m done and out of the vehicle (which, incidentally, now looks much like a horse that’s just finished a steeplechase – splattered with mud and lightly steaming), I’m almost bowled over by the stampede of children (not to mention my previously dignified and patient wife) all intent on being the first one to get in.

‘Whoah!’ I command, as Mattie calls shotgun on the front seat and claims it. I’m conscious that Matt Ralph still has to get a second tranche of sound bites, but it’s like trying to stop a tide by putting a hand out. No one seems to mind, anyway – who wouldn’t be raring to give it a whirl? Though seeing their grins of excitement – Lisa’s too, it must be said – I find myself smiling. From where they were waiting for me, they couldn’t see even the first part of the course and they have no idea what they have let themselves in for.

Matt is first out of the car when they return to base 20 minutes later. While they’ve been on the course I’ve been rootling around the Porsche showroom. They have a few Porsche GT cars – the ones they use for racing. Oh, how I’d love the chance to try one …

Matt leaps down from the Cayenne like a pro, his eyes wide.

‘That was AMAZING,’ he pronounces, before I can even open my mouth to ask him. He’s a teenager, which means everything good is AMAZING – he deals in absolutes – but I can see this experience is even more AMAZING than most. ‘Dad,’ he goes on, ‘the car almost fell over! Literally! It was, like, how could it possibly not fall on its side?!’