In my last entry here I was trying to describe how it felt to drive a car really fast. After finishing another weekend of track driving I re-read that post and, well, it just doesn't convey the experience. So I'm going to try once more.

During this past weekend at Putnam Park (a race track near Indianapolis) we had both sunny and rainy weather.

Personally, I love driving race tracks in the rain because it's something not everybody does well and for which I seem to have a knack. Going fast in the rain is more about car control and feeling the limits than it is about horsepower. Wet tracks level the playing field to some extent, which I find fun.

In the rain, on most tracks, you have to drive the parts of the track you don't normally use when it's dry because the dry line is slippery from all the wear and oil there. Instead of starting on the outside and cutting to the inside, in the rain you start on the inside, then find a place to cross over to the outside, missing the apex area. It sounds strange (and feels even stranger the first few laps) but the difference in grip is Huge, and grip equates to speed.

The dicey little bit in all of this is when you cross over the dry line, because that part is slippery. Really slippery. So, to go really fast there's only one way to do it: You have to simply commit the car to the turn at a speed much higher than the slippery parts can support then sit there twiddling your thumbs while the car does a four-wheel slide through the slippery part.

Eventually, usually, it starts to get some traction. That's good but involves a bit of sphincter-tightening at first because the grip tends to be right at the outer edge of the track.

The thing is, you're going very fast when all this happens and it's totally a leap of faith.

I equated it to my wife the other night as being like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute, hoping you can grab the tail as it goes by. There's not a lot of room for error. And when you've committed to the full speed of the turn and are sliding through the line, there's very little control. You have to just sit and wait, keeping the gas and steering steady. If you upset the car by messing with the throttle or brakes or steering you'll likely end up spinning.

Fortunately, race tracks have room on the outsides of most turns if you totally blow it. And, unlike jumping out of an airplane, you can work up to the maximum speed for a given corner by going a little faster each lap until you just can't go any faster and still keep it on the track. But it's still a little unnerving if you're not used to it. Even when you are, it's always a leap of faith, but over time you at least know what to expect.

What's interesting (to me at least, and it is my blog after all) is although the lines are different, the physics are the same in the dry. If you're truly driving a car at its limit—rain or shine—you aren't completely in control. OK, when you're going down a straightaway and all you're doing is accelerating, you're in control. I'll give you that.

But when you get into the turns it's all about guided mayhem. The car is constantly sliding and you're balancing the throttle, the steering and the brakes to make it go where you want it to go while never slowing down more than you absolutely have to to keep it from spinning into the weeds. Turning blends into accelerating which blends into braking which blends into turning...it's a smooth continuum of forces which, when you do it right, is just incredibly intoxicating.

For all the talk about braking markers and turn-in points and apexes and driving lines, at full speed—at the limit—it's not really like that. It's almost like you're in a constant slide; like a smooth, fast, almost organic linking of all the parts of the track. You're following the "line," of course, but not so much because you're thinking about it but because that's where you have to be to go that fast and still stay on the track. Another foot either way and you'd probably go off; another mile or two per hour and you'd spin into the weeds; any jerky motions of throttle, brake or steering and you'll lose it. But right there, right on the limit, with the car in your hands and under your feet, doing exactly what you're telling it to do right at the limit of adhesion is just an amazing feeling.

It's now 24 hours since my last run and I'm still stoked about it.

During my last run of the day I took out a friend who was also one of the students this weekend. He drives a 911 Turbo—a massively fast car with almost twice the horsepower of mine—and has done several of these driver's schools. He's good enough that he's driven mighty fast on race tracks in a really really fast car. But he's still not able to push all the way to the limit. That's not surprising; it takes a lot of experience to really get to the edge.

Our session was the last of the day, in dry conditions, and we were flat out flying—between the varying weather conditions and learning a new track, it was easily the fastest and smoothest I'd driven all weekend.

When the checkered flag fell he turned to me with a huge grin and slightly glazed eyes and said, "I just can't believe how much speed you carry into the corners. You're going so much faster than I do everywhere on the track." Afterward, he, like I, couldn't stop talking about it (witness this posting).

I wish I could take everyone out and show them what doing this is like. I've tried to explain it before and it's just so very hard to communicate without having you sit right there in the seat with me and experience it for yourself. When it's done right, truly fast driving is absolutely breathtaking. Not scary, not intimidating, not anything bad. It's more like controlling a force of nature. It's just...amazing. And you'll never know what I mean until you actually do it, whether riding or driving. It just can't be adequately explained.

I can imagine a few other activities that probably give you the same rush—hurtling down a mountain on a mountain bike, almost any kind of motorcycle racing, and aerobatic flying come to mind—but not many. It's the combination of speed, danger and control that makes it really special.

I've done a lot of interesting (at least to me) things in my life but nothing even remotely compares. If you ever get the chance, take it. Don't think twice. This is HUGE fun that anyone with a sporty car and a helmet can do for a few hundred bucks.

1. Rock08/02/2004 12:54:32 PM
Homepage: http://www.LotusGeek.com

Man, that is fascinating. I have ridden in really fast cars, and I have driven really fast cars - but nowhere near what you're doing. The closest thing I can compare is that my family were drag racers. So, instead of hitting curves, we're about "how fast can I go in a 1/4 mile and keep it together". And, like you describe, it looks easy but is much harder, and is much more technical, than most people can imagine.

Hmmm, I may have to find a track near a show sometime with you, Scott. Sounds like a good outing - I'm all up for tightening my sphincter in a fast car

Rock

2. Scott Good08/02/2004 01:13:04 PM
Homepage: http://www.teamsol.com

That'd be fun. I'd love to work that out someday!

Scott