What Racing Fast Cars Taught Me About Myself…and Life

I’m ashamed to say that I went into Friday’s AMG Driving Academy bellowing like a blustery fool. The second biggest one in the country.

I declared that I would “kill it!.” That I would “shred that racetrack, drive like a bat-of-of hell, and win!” If God has gifted me with any two things in this life it would be audacity—and conviction. Which, if you think about it is horrifying. There is no balance because sadly, I was getting a second helping of pie when common sense and humility were being passed out.

You see, I believe in the alchemy of osmosis. That the very act of living with, and sleeping next to my husband, the motorcycle and car, track-day speed demon, would make me fearless…and faaaaaaast. After fifteen years SOMETHING cool has to rub off, right? (I’m still waiting for the French accent.)

But I was missing the most important ingredient. SKILL.

Maybe you’re like me and you have no idea how this shit happens. Here’s how a track day works:
They vomit three day’s worth of facts, rules, statistics, and blah, blah, blah at you before you’ve had your coffee. It isn’t civil. After about thirty minutes, they see your eyes glaze over and they’ve bored themselves to the point where they announce, “fuck it, let’s go drive!”, and proceed to lead you to a fleet of very expensive, high-performance cars.

Then they start the day with an exercise. An ice breaker to get you acquainted with the power of the vehicle at your disposal.

Imagine this being yelled at you by an auctioneer.

“Getinyourcars! Adjust the seat and mirrors,go to the line,push the gas pedal TOTHEFLOOR! get the car up to 60 mph in like five seconds (not 58 mph, not 63 mph!), when you see the blue cones slam the brakes TOTHEFLOOR! You have an obstacle right in front of you,(an imaginary gas truck), control the skid while turning the vehicle to the left to avoid becoming a charcoal briquette, then steer immediately to your right to get back into your lane and come back! Go!Go!Go!Go!”

As Raphael and I  ran to our car I started to shake. Violently. “I have NO idea what he wants us to do!” I shrieked. The guttural sounds of four-hundred horses X6 being held back drown out our voices. It was deafening. FUCK! I needed more classroom time! I have questions! “Just watch what I do” he yelled as we hurriedly buckled in. Luckily, that was going to be unavoidable.

What I learned about myself:
1. You need to say “Pay attention to this, it’s going to be on the test, come in handy, save your life later” when you’re disseminating information to me. I like to be informed and clear on what exactly I’m supposed to do—before I’m expected to do it. Also, I like a little foreplay before the main event. I like training wheels and water wings before I venture into the deep end. Huh. Go figure.

2. I’m always the calm one in a crisis. Not here. Turns out I shake violently when in a high adrenaline situation. Or flooded with survival hormones. That does not bode well for deftly steering yourself around a pretend fiery hazard.

3. Eventually, I needed my own car. I wasn’t enjoying the passenger part. It was literally making me sick.

Next was the Skid Pad which is exactly like it sounds. They wet the pavement and you go in a circle, pushing the gas to the floor, causing the car to spin like a bad-ass ice-skater, (all the people who grew up driving on ice did extremely well). Then using some skill you were supposed to have picked up (I was busy getting a muffin), you steer yourself out of an “uncontrolled skid” which is just another way of saying a squealing hot-mess of spinning metal and smoking tires. Basically, you’re drifting (car term). To me, it felt like I spent an hour in a high-speed blender.

What I learned about myself:
3. Even though I took a pill for it, I get queasy when you spin me in circles at a high rate of speed.

4. Because it was so hard, it was a rush watching other people do it well.

5. Even though I grew up in So Cal—I didn’t suck.

This next exercise I LOVED. It is called Auto-Cross and basically, it’s a course of cones consisting of straightaways where you accelerate as fast as you can and then attempt corkscrew and hairpin turns all done at high speed—without knocking over any cones. It is unbelievably fast and furious. And it is timed. A best personal time…and a team time. The pro time was 22 seconds. Seconds! Gulp.

What I learned about myself:
6. Once I calm down and realize the stakes are…nonexistent, I have fun.

7. When I’m on a team— I am competitive as fuck.

8. I really DO like to go fast.

Then, when you’re as dizzy as a drunken sailor they feed you lunch. Lunch is where you confer with the others to figure out just how bad you’re actually doing as opposed to how bad you think you’re doing. I also was curious to see if Raph was off sitting with the cool kids. Had I brought shame to the family? Or had I done well enough to sit next to him—to make him proud. (I was happy to see that he had saved me the seat next to him.)

9. I learned that where racing is concerned (and probably a thousand other things I never think about), I want to make him proud. (Head slap).

After the food and all of our new-found knowledge had settled, they led us onto the world-famous Laguna Seca racetrack and that is where I have to say, I learned the most.

Follow the lines. There are cones placed at various places along the track that you are supposed to focus and aim for. It helps you to place your turns and to use the entire track. It hastens the sense of flow.

Speaking of flow, there is no chance in hell of over thinking while you race. None. Everything happens too fast to think about it. I found myself driving with some kind of weird supernatural, mindless-instinct. 

Use the whole track. In my newbie-ness, I was tempted to drive in a straight line or hug the edges. Using the entire track felt FAST. But after I got the hang of it—also really skillful and empowering.

Don’t forget to breathe. I had to be reminded. Constantly. By my husband. Who likes me to be conscious while I race expensive, fast cars.

Follow the instructor’s lines. VERY important to learn the track behind an expert. I suck at follow-the-leader. I hate it. Until I wanted to survive more than I wanted to blaze my own trail—then I learned to love it.

Focus. Focus. Focus. It is exhausting. But just like in life, a lazy, distracted mind can lead you into the weeds.

Look way ahead to where you want to go. Not to what is directly in front of you. If that’s where you focus—that’s where the car will go. Even if that means you’re looking out the side window—in the middle of a sharp turn—at high speed. Look where you’re headed. Not out in front. Counterintuitive, I know. But when you’re spinning on ice that’s what controls the skid. That’s what gets you around the fiery obstacle.

So now you’re thinking this is where she ties spirituality in with all of this racing stuff  and you’re right. I truly believe these exact same skills are the ones I’ve had to remember—and utilize—to get myself through this crazy life. How about you?

Carry on,
xox