Susie Wolff in pit lane ready to get the elbows out on the track

THE clock doesn’t know about gender.

Susie Wolff asks, ‘Does anyone seriously believe Williams would put me in one of these ca

“IT’S a fight,” says Susie Wolff. “But you know what I’m ready for? You know what I’m up for? I’m up for a fight.”

Wolff is the performance driver for the Williams Martini Racing team at the Australian Grand Prix in Melbourne.

In the bonfire of the vanities that is Formula One, where machismo dominates and attractive women are routinely consigned to the demeaning role of grid girl, Wolff is the first female to gatecrash the elite level in 22 years.

If either of Williams’s first-choice drivers, Brazil’s Felipe Massa or Finland’s Valtteri Bottas, is wiped off the grid at Albert Park tomorrow by injury, illness or unforeseen circumstance, Wolff is likely to become the first woman to start an F1 event since Italy’s Lella Lombardi represented the Brabham franchise at the 1976 Austrian Grand Prix.

“As soon as you enter the paddock, you’re on your own. You know everyone is out for themselves and you have to get into the fight with your elbows out,” Wolff, 31, said yesterday.

“There’s so many talented drivers trying to get in. They could all do it. I have to prove myself every time I get in the car.

“It’s ruthless but I’ve been racing since I was eight and I learned a long time ago that if you’re going to be successful, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty. I’m not shying away from it. I’m pretty comfortable with that. If I have to rumble, I’ll rumble. I’ll work twice as hard to get the same respect.”

If Williams needs to promote an understudy this year, the gig will go to Wolff or Brazil’s Felipe Nasr. Wolff is the frontrunner.

The Scot lives in Switzerland with her husband, racing identity Toto Wolff, a Williams shareholder and the chief executive of Mercedes-Benz Motorsport.

She’s aware of the scuttlebutt that dismisses her rise as a publicity stunt in a sport obsessed with cultivating and maintaining a glamorous image.

“I keep getting asked about my gender and my appearance,” she says. “Ultimately, it comes down to performance. You’ve got to be good enough.

“Everyone says to me, but what about your gender? What about your gender? And my answer is, well, what about my gender?

“The truth is that my gender doesn’t change what I do on the track. My gender doesn’t get me driving fast. My gender has nothing to do with the times I put on the clock.

“Does anyone seriously believe Williams would put me in one of these cars if I was just the blonde girl in the paddock?

“It’s ridiculous. Motorsport revolves around performance. You can either drive fast, or you can’t. The clock doesn’t know about your gender.”

Asked to describe the cocktail of adrenaline and fear that must come from slinging one of these turbo-charged speed machines around tracks at 300km/h, she replies: “There’s no feeling like it in this world. You’re in the most technologically advanced race cars in existence. The speed is nearly indescribable. It’s happening so fast it takes your brain a few laps to get used to it. There’s an incredible number of G-forces going through your body. When you brake, it’s five times your own body weight being pushed against your own body. It’s a blur. It’s a rush. You’re on the edge and you get this feeling of oneness with the car and the race. It’s just you and the car. Nothing else matters. It’s what I live for.”