DRIVER'S SEAT: Speeding is believing

View reporter gives racing school a 150-mph whirl

There's really no time to be scared when you're whipping around the track at 150 mph. I quickly discovered that your mind only has room for what's immediately in front of you.

I wished that I would have known that before recently attending the Mario Andretti Racing School at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway. Leading up to the class, my mind was filled with nothing but worst-case scenarios.

What if I became one with the wall? What if I embarrassed myself -- Mr. Big Sportswriter in front of all of these other students? What if my speed was so low that I embarrassed myself? And just how easy was it to drive with Depends on?

Once I arrived at the LVMS and began receiving some instruction from the staff at the Andretti Racing School, some of my initial fears were replaced with new ones. But I knew I had a job to do.

The first thing I saw were the looks on the faces of the students who had just finished their laps around the track in the class preceding mine. It was as if they had just seen and talked to the Big Guy himself and they really liked what He had to say.

A happy sense of speechlessness, ecstasy, pride and newfound energy seemed to possess these people who had just completed the experience I was about to embark upon. Many of the students in that class were high-rollers from Treasure Island who were being treated to a perk that was just a little bit different than your average trip to the Grand Canyon or an exclusive golf course in Sin City.

When I asked Ron Jackson, corporate sales manager for Andretti Racing, if I had to drive a certain speed when I was out there, he kindly let me know there was no right or wrong speed for anyone participating in the school.

"We encourage everyone to drive at their own comfort level," Jackson said. "But most people find out that they have a need for speed."

Jackson saw how the class had created a unique niche for visitors to Las Vegas that was helping to keep the classes full at the racing school.

"Most of these guys in this session are high-limit players from the TI," Jackson said as a cadre of jumpsuited men with massive smiles on their faces floated toward the Andretti office.

"The VIP services people use it as a hook for their high-limit players in town."

Another man who had just finished in that same class, and who had received the program as a gift for Father's Day, was Jim Kelly of Henderson. Kelly had that same look plastered on his face as the others.

"It's absolutely unbelievable," he said. "I could feel the G's on my face through the turns. I was really fighting it (the car) through the turns. It was great. It was like driving a 180 mph go-cart."

Now that the first class was over, it was time for me to don the racing jumpsuit and see for myself what all the fuss was about. If Barney had a big blue brother, it would have been me.

After having my photo taken with one of the scaled-down Indy cars, hearing a short instructional speech on what I would be going through, and then taking a spin around the mile-and-a-half track in a van with the rest of the members of my 8 p.m. class, it was time to get down to business.

Anticipating driving in the car around the track faster than I had ever driven before pumped me up. But I was sobered by the fact that I had a story to write.

After the first two members of my class went out and did their thing, it was my turn to don the head sock and neck brace and put on a helmet. That's when the first real sense of fear kicked in. There was no backing out now.

After the helmet went on, I suddenly had a new respect for race car drivers who had to wear this thing for three to four hours at a time. The movements of my neck were restricted, talking was reduced to mumbling and my poor eyesight was made worse by the limited visibility through the visor.

As one of the instructors guided me to my car, an overwhelming sense of angst overcame me. I knew this was it.

Climbing into this piece of high-precision machinery, I felt what Shaquille O'Neal's right foot must feel like trying to squeeze into a size 11 shoe. I couldn't believe how small everything in this car was -- the seat, the pedals, the steering wheel. As the fear tried to keep me out of the seat, I remembered that the instructors said nobody has been hurt doing this. So it was all systems go.

As the small vehicle providing the necessary jump-start for the cars attached to mine, I knew I had better start focusing. But I had one small problem. There was so much heat in my helmet that my glasses fogged up. What better time to be nearly blind than when you're preparing to drive a race car around a track at speeds in excess of 140 mph for the first time?

After some reassurance from one of the instructors that the fog should dissipate once the car got going, I readied for the ride. And before I knew it, I was being pushed down pit road and then thrust onto the main track. It felt like I was being taught to walk for the first time by a very confident mother who knew I could walk if only I tried.

Following one of the instructors in the lead car -- as all the students in the class do -- I tried to get my bearings and see just how this car handled in the first warm-up lap (60.51 mph average). It felt strangely familiar, but I realize now that once I was out on the track furiously following the instructor, that all my fears had transformed into a new sense of excitement.

And then, just like that, it was over. It's hard to explain how fast the six-lap Qualifier program went in my mind, but once you start doing circles at 140 mph (my top speed was 150.54 mph), all sense of time is meaningless. My only priorities became staying in the middle of the track and keeping a safe distance from the instructor.

When I was done, I realized why the people before me had those smiles on their faces. I hadn't exactly gone from fearhead to gearhead, but I could see why the Andretti Racing School was such a success.

A fellow student in my group was Mike Floyd, a visitor from Oak Park, Mich., who is Web editor for AutoWeek and who had received the program as a gift from his wife, Nancy Audi. Despite working so closely with the automotive industry, Floyd also was surprised and had that same look on his face now.

"It was just awesome. I now have a healthy respect for what drivers doing 200 mph go through," Floyd said. "I don't know how they do it. I've driven some cars pretty fast in my day, but that's a whole different level. It's something I won't forget."

After the program, I received a racing license, a T-Shirt, a logo cap and a photo package that the Andretti Racing School offers with some of the different packages it sells. Besides the school at LVMS, Andretti also holds classes at the California Speedway in Fontana, the Kansas Speedway in Kansas City, Kan., and the Texas Motor Speedway in Fort Worth.

And as I drove home on the highway feeling relieved that I had made it through this experience, I suddenly felt that my own car (Toyota Paseo) was inadequate and my cruising speed just wasn't enough. I had developed a bad case of engine envy.

When I got home, I found that my heart was still beating rapidly and I wasn't even remotely tired. When I finally did go to bed that night, it seemed I was still doing 150 mph.

For more information on the Mario Andretti Racing School, call 1-877-263-7388 or visit www.andrettiracing.com.


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