Fast car is fast

The sun is just breaking over the ridge east of the house, throwing a pale January light across the snow on the hill. Most of my body is still in Miami, not willing to acknowledge that shorts are no longer required. And my hands, they are still at the Homestead-Miami Speedway, pulling that Indy car through turns 3 and 4 flat out.

My friend, Tom, said this to Traci when she asked him questions about buying me this coolest of Christmas presents. “He’ll love it, just know that driving a racecar is like crack straight to the bloodstream. He’ll be hooked.”

Tom was right.

We showed up at the track at 11:30 for sign-in. Already the Nascar driving was going on, two or three cars thundering around the track. If that’s one car, I thought, what would 30 of them sound like? The track is huge, 1.5 miles of straights and 20 degree banked turns, bleachers towering over the front stretch. Every racing movie I’ve ever seen is playing in my head and I can feel how electric it must be when it’s packed to the gills. Above, the Miami sun is warming the day nicely.

Upon agreeing not to sue them short of someone intentionally beating me with a hammer, I'm handed my racing suit and ear buds and told to have a seat near the track and relax. There, in pit row, wait six gleaming, full size Indy cars, and I think to myself, I really need to pee now.

Eventually they gather up the 20 or so drivers and take us behind pit row for training. This is where I start to falter in my excitement. There’s the obligatory video to pump you up, with a basic overview of what you’re about to do. Real Indy cars, no lead cars, passing allowed, safety first. After, the instructor tells you in no uncertain terms that you can screw up and get yourself killed if you aren’t careful. He then lays out the rules for entering and exiting the track. There will be three on the track at a time. Keep your car here, not there, pass only when instructed. And then he deflates my excitement with one sentence.

There’s a rev limiter on the car that tops out at 5000 RPM. “How fast is that?” someone asks. “About 150,” he says.

150 is as fast as it will go? On this track? That will feel like 80 on a highway, I think. Suddenly I think I may have signed up for an amusement park ride.

We wrap up and walk back out. No matter, I console myself, it will still be cool to sit in that car.

20 minutes later my name is called over the PA and my pulse quickens. Traci looks giddy for me. I have only one real fear…stalling in pit row in front of everyone. I don a helmet, get a deafening sound check on my earpiece, and walk to the car where I’m strapped in. The six cars each have different setups for various heights, and I’m right at the limit of being too small for this one. I feel like I’m laying down. The pit guy yells something about having fun and not dying (that’s what I heard at least), and instantly an ATV is behind me pushing the car up to speed…the technique they use so you don’t need to shift from low to high gear. 100 yards down pit row and I let off the clutch and feel the car kick in, waiting for me to do something dramatic like push the gas. We were told to keep to highway speed until we’re off the apron. My heart is at about 120 already, because at 60 miles an hour I feel like I’m flying. I round to the backstretch and my spotter pops in my ear to approve me to bring it up onto the track. I slide up into the backstretch and start easing into the speed. By my first real turn, three, I figure I must be pegged at the limit, there’s no way this thing can go faster and stay on the track.
 

“Whenever you’re ready,” my spotter says, “feel free to bring up your speed a little.”

Eff it, I think, and punch it on the front stretch, knowing I have precious little time to play, and the rev limiter will start burping in an instant, telling me I’ve maxed out. And I wait, and wait as I accelerate through the front. Watching from pit row the cars look like they saunter down the track. But inside, the world stretches out and blinks by in an instant. Halfway down the stretch the engine finally starts to sputter, topping out. I back off a hair and try to hold it, remembering to accelerate into the corner. I’m pushed hard to the side, trying to hold the car to the center through the corner, realizing that there are many ways to screw up, but only one that matters…tapping that wall. This huge track feels like it’s five feet wide. I feel the engine chirp and know I’m going as fast as I can. It’s too fast. And not fast enough.

I start scream-laughing into my helmet….

In what feels like an instant the spotter is in my ear again. “Turn one is your finish flag…ease off the gas on the backstretch and look for the pit entrance." I head back into pit row, kick it out of gear and coast to a stop and feel what it must be like to come flying in for a pit stop. I have two rides on the track (thanks Traci!) so after a quick check they send me out again. This time as I hit turn one I see another car enter the backstretch ahead. I come up shockingly fast behind and slow my speed through 3 and 4. As I exit turn three the spotter clears me to prepare me to pass on the straight and I floor it and roar past out of the corner. I’m screaming again.

Six or seven laps later it's all over. I hop out and try not to grin like an idiot, and fail. Traci’s eyes are huge. All I can manage is, “It’s soooo cool.”

As I turn in my suit they hand me a certificate. My top speed is listed. 158.03. The pros add another 40mph to that while doing it next to 20 other cars. I don’t know how. I’m damn proud of that speed…fast is fast and this was a thrill like nothing I’ve ever done.

I can close my eyes now and feel it, all of it. And I can go just fine without it, I know I can. I can live without ever strapping into another race car. I don’t need to drive again.

But I will.  

 

 

Comments

[jon]

Very cool story Doug. Thanks for sharing.
Pangs of jealousy for sure.

[Cassandra Marcole]

Race cars are being used as advertising tools because of the drivers and the competitions they join. Michael Schumacher made Mercedes and Ferrari household names because of his sterling performances.

[Leisa Dreps]

That's such an awesome experience. It's not every day that one gets the chance to test out the power of a car like that and get the thrill of satisfying that need for speed. Despite the limits, being able to handle a car going that fast is definitely a one-of-a-kind feat.

[Leisa Dreps]

That's such an awesome experience. It's not every day that one gets the chance to test out the power of a car like that and get the thrill of satisfying that need for speed. Despite the limits, being able to handle a car going that fast is definitely a one-of-a-kind feat.