Professor takes the ‘ride of a lifetime’
Texas Motor Speedway bills it as “the ride of alifetime.” Since the ride lasts only three-and-a-halfminutes, I’m not sure I want to give it quite that much hype,but I certainly will call it a major rush — one thatI’m still grinning and bragging about.
Saturday, I went out to the speedway to the Lone Star BikerBash. I rode in on the back of the Harley, credentialed along withthe Harley’s driver to cover the event for Ride Texasmagazine. Those credentials don’t get you a free ride in aNASCAR racecar, however. That’s $100 plus tax. And for that,I have to thank the man on the Harley.
Before the ride, the thrill-seeker fills out a waiver thatpretty much says you could be killed, and don’t think you canget any money out of us. If that doesn’t scare you off,watching those cars blaze around the track is enough to give theweak of heart a moment of pause. Of course, any that know me knowthat fear is not part of my vocabulary.
I signed the waiver, picked up my blank videotape, donned myblue and white, flame-retardant race suit and headed to the pitarea. We were instructed to find a helmet and to buckle it up. Noneof us appeared too eager to put on the helmet quite yet, but we allminded and then huddled up for instruction.
The Team Texas guy eyed us all and assigned me to the InterstateBatteries #18 car. I walked around to the passenger side of the carand awaited further instruction. These are Winston Cup racecars— no passenger door to open. I was to climb through thewindow. I can’t say I made it look easy. The layers ofclothing made the high kick to get my left leg in the windowimpossible, so a friendly lift had me dangling through the window,ducking my head and sliding down into the seat.
Driver Jim Smith introduced himself while the man outside thecar reached through the window to hook up my harness. I was secure.Well, unless I needed to get out.
Jim took the videotape and slid it into the recorder. The camerawould record sound and what I was seeing from the inside of the caras Jim propelled us around the track at speeds up to 160 mph. Hepersonalized the tape, adding a promo about the experience.It’s obvious they know you’re going to be showing offthis tape, so they get in the shameless plug right at thefront.
My taping is interrupted by a tap on the hood of the car and asignal from the man outside of it. He said, “We’regoing to have to make a pit stop — we need a newtire.”
The car is pushed around to the pit, and within seconds the caris jacked up, the tire is on, and the car is back on theground.
The drivers start their engines, and Jim slides our car backinto position. Within seconds, we’re on the firststraightaway where Jim startles me with what looks like erraticdriving. You know how new drivers oversteer? Jim is doing that.Then I understand. He’s warming up that new tire.
We barrel into the first curve, banked at 24 degrees, andcontinue accelerating. I’m not white knuckled, but Idon’t have a lot of control of my breathing. It’s notthat it’s rushed or heavy, but rather the pressure of theturns and acceleration make me actually have to think aboutbreathing. I’m not thrown around in the car because of theseat that encases me as well as the harness holding me tight, butthe pressure of my body against the seat and my organs within mybody is intense.
Each lap at the speedway is 1.5 miles long. The front stretch is2,250 feet of screaming engines. The back is 900 feet shorter.It’s in these straightaways that Jim and the other driversshow what it’s like to draft, pass, be on the inside and theoutside. It’s choreographed as much as the Bolshoi Balletwith far greater risks if someone screws up.
Four laps — six miles — pass in a flash withde-acceleration in the last half lap. We pull into pit road whereyou can practically feel the adrenaline pumping. No one has to askanyone how it was. Hoots, hollers and the proverbial ear-to-eargrin say it all.
Was it the ride of a lifetime? No, the ride of the lifetime willcome when I save up my $650 for lessons and 20 laps where I’mthe driver.
