The plan was as follows:  Thursday morning we would practice in the Mustangs for about an hour.  Then we would ride along as the instructors practiced the start.  (Can you imagine my surprise, my delight, and my horror to learn that they were going to do a rolling side-by-side start just like NASCAR?  I realized there is a Heaven, and it's only ten miles south of Phoenix.)   The instructors would demonstrate two side-by-side starts and then one single file restart, with the students riding along.  After that, we would climb into our Mustangs and practice two side-by-side starts with just the students, and then one single file restart.   Then we would be formed up two-by-two behind the pace car, and when the pace car pulled away at the start of the straightaway, the green flag would drop and the race would be on.  We were told that there may or may not be a local yellow on one of the turns, and there may or may not be a full course yellow with the pace car coming out.

We climbed into the yellow instructor cars and pulled out onto the track and started to bunch up on the back stretch for the first ride along start.  Then, suddenly, all the instructors pulled way over to the right side of the track as this big WHOOSH!!! WHOOSH!! went flying by.  It was the two white vans, carrying a new batch of students around on their orientation tour.  I started laughing so hard my sides hurt, and I thought about the students (which, by the way, included a petite young 16-year-old girl) and about how they would have a story they could tell again and again.

Once the vans passed, we bunched up and rolled slowly around the carousel towards start/finish.  As the green flag waved, all the instructors floored it at the same time, and we surged forward in a tight group.  At the end of the straight, everyone backed off and we slowed along the back stretch as the instructors formed up again for the second start.  The instructors, who talked to each other on hand-held radios, started wondering where the vans were, because we didn't want to get in their way.   No one spotted them, so we rolled slowly around the carousel and onto the straightaway as the green flag flew.  Unknown to us, though, the vans had pulled in behind us and joined in the practice start as we all shot forward side-by-side.   Patrick chuckled and said, "Well, that's a first."  This place is full of grownup kids, folks, and to tell you the truth, I felt right at home.

The single file restart was different only because they were going to wave the green flag while we were still about half-way through the carousel.  They warned us that when the pace car accelerates away, the student leading the race sometimes floored it and chased the pace car.  Don't do this, they warned, keep your speed down until you see the green, then gun it.

Your Turn on Practice Starts

Then it was our turn to practice the starts.  Once the students got out onto the track in their own cars, there were no pauses in between any of the stages.   We just kept progressing steadily towards the real start, and as we did, my heart kept pounding faster and faster, and I started worrying about what was going to happen when all us student flew two wide into the first turn that could only accommodate one car at a time.

I was in the rear during the first side-by-side practice start, and had no trouble staying with the pack.  We all backed off before turn 1 and slowed around the back stretch for the next start.  They shuffled us around and I ended up in the middle of the pack for the second start, which was equally exciting, but uneventful.   I was near the front for the single file restart, and sure enough, the green flag came out as the leader was in the middle of the carousel, as advertised.  Finally, we slowed one last time down the back stretch as the instructors shuffled us around once more for the real start of the race.  I was both horrified and thrilled when they waved me up to the front row.  I was going to start the race along side the pole-sitter!    Heart be still.

Green, Green, Green! Go, Go, Go!

I probably breathed somewhere during the first lap, but I don't remember.   As we pulled onto the straight, the green flag waved and the pole sitter and I gunned it at the exact same instant.  We accelerated towards the narrow first turn, and both shifted into third at the exact same spot.  If you had seen an inside camera view from my car looking out to the pole sitter, it would appear as if the two of us were glued together.  Neither of us gave an inch.  This was really getting interesting.

As we reached the first braking spot, I thought about the situation briefly and decided to let the pole-sitter have the inside line, so I back off just a bit and then tucked in right behind him as we entered turn 1.  The nearest car behind me was about ten feet away.  I pulled to within about 4 inches of the leader as we exited turn 1, and stayed like that for a few moments until I realized that it probably wasn't too wise for two students to race that close, so I backed off about five feet.   But I was planning on passing the very first chance I had.

That chance came sooner than I expected.  As we came out of the tight hairpin turn 12 that exits onto the carousel, I realized I had more momentum, so I pulled to the inside of the leader and was moving forward to pass him on the left.  I realized I was going to have to exit a little slower than normal because of my line, but if I held my position, I had him.  Much to my surprise, the leader pulled over to the right a bit, then a bit more, then a bit more until he ran right off the racetrack in a huge cloud of yellow dust.  "Well, that takes care of that," I thought.   (Later, the driver told me he saw a car in his side view mirror and pulled over to avoid running into it, but he pulled over too far.)  The race was not even one lap old and I was in the lead.  Feet don't fail me now.

The first thought that went through my mind was a comment Patrick had made about being in the lead.  "The race lasts forever when you're the leader."   I thought, alright, that's good.  I want this to last a long time.  Then I started worrying about making some big mistake, but I told myself not to do anything different from my practice laps.  Keep the same lines, the same points you have been all along and you'll be fine.  Just don't mess up in front of the whole pack, I told myself.  I was extra careful as I entered the carousel the second time, looking for the student's car that went off the track, but it was gone, so I dug in.

Much to my relief, I slowly began to pull away from the rest of the pack.   Every time I looked back, though, there seemed to be a different car in second place, and I wondered about what kind of action was going on back there.  But I was fully content to be out front, believe me.  My only other worry was the one advanced student who had joined our group that morning prior to practice.  Even though they started him at the back, I was worried that he or one of the other students with race experience would pull up behind me and get me all nervous.

About lap four, a yellow flag suddenly appeared at turn 9, and I lifted, looked in my mirror to make sure no one was plowing down on me, and was surprised to see an empty track.  The second car was quite a ways back, it seemed.  The next turn, I saw Mike McGovern, the chief instructor, standing next to turn 11, but he had no yellow flag, so I gunned it while waving to him.  Mike gave me a look that said something like, "Get your hands back on the wheel, rookie," so I did and kept going.

Two laps later, a yellow flag was waving from the flag stand above start/finish indicating a full- course yellow, so I backed off and waited for the yellow pace car to pull out in front of me.  When it did, I could not believe how slow he went.   I wanted to pull up and smack him to get him moving faster, because he was going so slow I had to go down to first gear at about 2500 rpm.  When the pace car pulled away suddenly in the middle of the carousel, I gunned it to get going fast enough for second gear, but I remembered the warning about the restart, so I kept it steady as I looked way to the left for the green.  There it was.  I accelerated out of the last turn and onto the straight with a whole string of orange Mustangs right on my tail.   All that work down the drain, I thought.

Once again, though, I was able to open up a gap between me and second place, and once again the number on the second place car kept changing.  I still worried about number 39, the advanced student, but fortunately I didn't see him--yet.

A few more laps and another full course yellow, and once again my lead was eliminated.  But the second restart was identical to the first and I slowly started to open up another gap.  But a few laps later, number 39 had moved up to second and was closing fast as we approached start/finish.  As the white flag waved, I told myself I had to hold this guy off for one lap, just one more lap.  He was probably two car lengths back into turn 1, but got closer through the esses, and was right on my tail as we entered the carousel.   He pulled to the inside of me and the front of his orange Mustang completely filled my left-side mirror.  I thought someone had replaced my regular mirror with one of those arcade mirrors that amplifies and distorts everything, because I swear his bumper was about twenty feet wide.  My entire mirror was filled with orange!

Last lap, I thought, and I just have to keep him from passing.  I pulled over in front of him to the same inside line, and we went through the carousel nose-to-tail.  As I accelerated out of the carousel, number 39 once again pulled over to give me a mirror full of himself.  But then something great happened.   Nothing.  He couldn't pass me.  The cars were too evenly matched.   All he could do was worry me, and maybe out-brake me into the final turn.   But once again, I pulled over in front of him, and went deeper into the final turn than I had before.  This was the same turn where I had spun out twice before in practice for doing exactly what I was now doing.  Only this time I delayed accelerating, knowing that 39 couldn't accelerate until I did and he couldn't pass me in the middle of the turn.  I exited the last turn wider than normal to keep him from going around the right side.  He was still in my mirror as I shifted up to third, shot down the straightaway for the last time and took the checkered flag.  Oh, yeah.

One more lap and he would have had me, but I won the race.  I now have a better wining percentage than Jeff Gordon himself.  I have now won exactly 100% of the races I've ever been in or probably ever will be in.

Afterwards, I sat, jaw agape, and listened to the stories from those back in the pack.  They were running each other off the track, cutting corners short by going through the sand, passing under yellow, getting sent to the back of the pack, working their way up again, passing under yellow and getting sent to the back again.   It was a distinct advantage being out front, but I would love to have mixed it up with the rest of the gang.

To anticipate your question, what did I win?  Exactly nothing--except bragging rights.  But that's no small thing, believe me.   You now know my real motive for writing this.   :-)

My instructor Patrick was all grins as he congratulated me.  I laughed and thanked my sponsors, Ford, Goodyear, PBR, Monroe, Bell.  I added that I hoped number 39 wasn't too mad at me for keeping him from passing.  "He had his hands full, believe me," Patrick said.  "You drove a smart race."   When I told him that my heart was pounding so hard during those last few turns that I thought it would rip my driver's suit open, Patrick smiled knowingly and said, "That feeling you had on the last lap--that's the reason we're all here."   Amen.

Home | Speed