My Ride

Suiting up

This past Sunday I did something I have dreamed of for a long time.  Since the days when I watched stock cars race around a quarter mile dirt track at the local fairground I have dreamed of driving a race car.  Through the years I've watched NASCAR become one of America's greatest spectator sports.  Recently I bought a coupon via the internet for driving lessons from the NASCAR Driving Experience. I would take my lessons in Darlington Raceway, Darlington, SC.  I had heard many a stock car race broadcast from this track in my teenage years while working at a local filling station on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Darlington was the oldest of the "super speedways" and I was looking forward to driving on this one and one quarter mile asphalt oval.

Darlington Raceway is located near I-95 and easily accessible. We found the race track easily and followed the signs through the tunnel under the track to the infield. There was a car hauler and another van with a sign , "Check in Here".  I checked in with my signed disclaimer.  Honestly, if you get a cold while driving one of their race cars they aren't liable. It's all spelled out in the disclaimer. They issued me a bright red driving suit, told me to put it on and wait for my name to be called for the driver's meeting.  We walked over to the pit area where there was a tent set up and some folding chairs for spectators.  Claudette's interest waned and she parked herself and broke out her Nook.  I, on the other hand, was busy putting on my driving suit, looking at the race cars, and cultivating a "dirty old man" interest in a buxom young blond woman in extremely short shorts and cowboy boots. During this time race cars were coming and going. They sounded good.

The drivers meeting was held in a building about a hundred yards from the pits. We watched a video about what to expect; the do's and don't's while driving one of the race cars. Safety was emphasized a lot, and you were reminded that if you didn't follow the rules your race car would be stopped by way of a remote kill switch.  You would then be removed and banished from the premises. I knew safety was important, but I thought I was just going to drive a car at a high speed.  In my younger days I had driven my street cars to near 130 mph, so what was the big deal.  I guess I realized what kind of company I was in when the instructor asked, "How many people can't drive a four-speed manual transmission?"  A number of hands went up.  And none of them were girls! This meeting took about an hour with the instructor repeating that, "These are real race cars," several times.

Climbing aboard Tony Stewart's old ride.

Back in the pit area they stuck some earbuds into my ears, plugged them in to test them, and then taped them to my ears. The crewman stuffed a racing helmet down on my head, fastened it on, and put this foam collar around my neck. (I didn't know what that was for.) I was helped across the pit wall, it's about waist high, and to a waiting race car. Then, my minor difficulties began. Race cars have no doors. You must climb in through the window. I watch Johnson, Gordon, Junior and others do this every Sunday on TV.  But, they are much younger, thinner, and shorter. Size does make a difference! I could get everything in the Kyle Busch M & M's  Toyota Camry but my head, so I was extricated, pulled out.  They were real race cars with custom made seats positioned for a particular driver.   We waited for another car to be free.   I was happy to see that it was the number 14 Chevrolet of Tony Stewart. I knew that "Smoke" was a big boy, and this car might fit me better. I got in it with a struggle and knocking some skin off my hand. They strapped me in with a five point harness.  My torso was immovable but with some discomfort. My butt is considerably wider than Tony Stewart's.  I was wedged into the seat. Tony is 5'9" tall and I'm three inches taller and over forty pounds heavier.  Get the picture? Nevertheless, they plugged in my earbuds and put on the steering wheel. I gave it a tug to see that it was secure. I was asked to hold the clutch pedal to the floor as the pit crewman started the engine. He fastened up the window net, and I waited for my "expert driver's" voice in my ears. My "expert driver" is my spotter who will tell me what to do. And I thought they would tell me to get in the car and drive away. Dumb me. When you're in the race car you can't see anywhere but directly in front of you and a little out of the corner of your eyes.

My ride, or maybe I should say drive, began.
"Bring the engine up to two thousand and release the clutch."
"Ten-four"
"Come up to three thousand in each gear."
The shift pattern is tight and the gear changes are smooth. By the time I was at 3000 rpm in fourth gear I was beside the back stretch of the track.
"Pull out on the track and follow the white line."
"Roger"
"Let off the throttle."
I was going into the third turn.
"Stay away from the wall!"
Fourth turn.
"Gimme thirty eight hundred."
Front stretch.  Flagman's stand.
"Let off the throttle."
Turn one.
"Keep your left wheels on that white line."
Looks like a black line to me.
"Bring it up to forty-two hundred,"
Forty-one,forty-two...
Turn two
"Forty-five hundred."
The back stretch. That is where you can really fly. All the great drivers have driven here, this very track.

I continued for four laps.  Each time I increased my speed. I'd only bought a few laps.  They were expensive  for me. It would probably take fifty or more laps to get comfortable in the race car.  It is extremely responsive in acceleration and handling.  And, of course, it would help to have a car that fit your body. The NASCAR Racing Experience cars will probably reach 150 mph but current NASCAR cars being raced here reach speeds in excess of 190.



My time was up and I was told to enter pit road from the back stretch and test my brakes. The brake pedal went almost to the floor, but it slowed the car. On pit road a sign told me to put the gearshift into neutral and a crewman directed me where to stop.  As I stopped he dropped the window net, killed the engine, and began unstrapping me. I knocked more skin off my hand getting out of the car. They removed my helmet, and I got a breath of fresher air. The fumes inside the car have given me a headache.

Blood was dripping off my hand, but there was a smile on my face.

Additional Stuff

Darlington Raceway
Tony Stewart
Jimmie Johnson
Kyle Busch
NASCAR Racing Experience