I did a NASCAR driving experience and lived to write about it

My gift was a Groupon for one six-lap session of the Rusty Wallace Racing Experience, which is one of a handful of traveling racing schools that go around to tracks all around the United States. Throughout the year, the Charlotte Speedway hosts many of these schools, but the Rusty Wallace Racing Experience would be where I tested my racing chops. Because of subtle differences between the schools the experience at the same track may differ slightly, but I’m sure they’re all equally great if getting strapped into two tons of metal and horsepower interests you.

And it should. It’s awesome. Driving a NASCAR is just like riding a roller coaster, except in addition to enjoying the ride you also have to operate the coaster. And it’s your first time doing it. And it’s way more responsibility than you should be given since you drove to the track in a sensible, family-friendly, automatic transmission Honda CRV that hasn’t tasted 90 mph.

I signed up for my class online, well in advance. For good reason, these sessions fill up quick, so give yourself plenty of lead time before your desired race day, at least a month. I arrived at the track, which was decorated with holiday lights for the Speedway Christmas light spectacular. When you arrive, you check in and are given the opportunity to purchase a video of your experience. This means they’ll essentially strap a GoPro to the top of the car while you’re driving and you get the digital file afterwards. You aren’t allowed to bring your own recording device, and nor should you since you’ll be otherwise occupied during your time on the track. I declined the video option since it wasn’t a dashboard or helmet camera, and the videos from the top of the car just look like the track moving very quickly.

After I was all checked in, it was time to go to school.

Our driving class assembled in the media center, where post-race press conferences are held. Here we learned where to accelerate and decelerate, as well as how to pass (go go go!), and how to be passed (move to the left and slow down). We also learned that this is the only racing school where you, the driver, are alone in the car* with only a “spotter” in a radio in your headset, and that the vehicles we were going to drive are actual cars that have seen race action. No pressure or anything. After a whirlwind 45 minutes that included safety rules, driving technique, advice for speed, how to check the radio equipment, and the statement that “someone is probably going to wreck today,” we were sent back outside to get suited up. I took this opportunity to go purchase the optional liability insurance.

After selecting a fashionable helmet sock from the box shoddily marked “Clean,” I suited up in a firesuit and helmet and took my place in line, where I watched driver after driver nervously walk to their cars and come back looking relieved and dazed. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

Finally it was my turn to get into a car. I knew it was going to be a tight squeeze getting in, but it was even closer quarters than I anticipated. Once you’re inside, you’re securely strapped in with a safety harness and HANS device, and have your radio checked. There are no rearview mirrors in these cars, and you can’t move your head from side to side due to the safety mechanisms, so your only understanding of what is behind you comes from your “spotter” sitting up high atop the speedway telling you about the hunks of metal coming at you at 160 miles per hour. So it’s kinda important that the radio works.

Once I confirmed I could hear my nameless, faceless, spotter, we spent some time getting acquainted, by which I mean he yelled “alright, timetoputitinfirstgearliketheytoldyougogogogogogo” as I panicked and did as I was told. I gained speed around the apron of the track, scared completely out of my mind as I shifted into second gear through the first turn and third gear into the second, the silence from the one-way radio echoing around in my helmet as I imagined the worst, picturing a 75 car pileup going on behind me due to my ineptitude (which was thankfully all in my head).

Finally my radio crackled to life again and the person responsible for my safe return yelled “alright, getupintothecurvegogogogogottagogogogottago” and I shifted into fourth (the final gear in these cars) and did my best to appease him. It was showtime.

From this point on, the rest of the ride was amazing. I spent the first lap trying not to wreck, the second lap trying to hit the targets to accelerate and decelerate (marked as giant green and pink X’s on the track), the third lap testing the gas pedal, and the last three laps pushing the pedal to the metal as they say, trying to go as fast as I could without regard to my own personal safety. It took me all of 90 seconds to go from Sunday Driver to Speed Demon, a fact about myself that I was kind of surprised to learn.

And just like that it was over. I pulled into the pits exhilarated, relieved that the car and I were still intact, and a bit sad that I had to get out.

Once you get out of the pits, there’s not much else to do but pose for a picture in your firesuit and wander around, trying to figure out how you’re going to get back behind the wheel again. I did find my way into the Winner’s Circle and was able to snap a picture. I’m still a bit indignant that the media didn’t show up to document my triumph.

Things to Keep in Mind

• The School suggests doing a “ride-along” first, where you sit in the passenger seat next to a driver who, you know, knows what they’re doing. I recommend that as well. Going from nothing to driving is a lot to handle.
• You must know how to drive a manual transmission to drive these cars. Supposedly they have to turn people away all the time, which must be humiliating.
• It is a really tight squeeze getting behind the wheel, so be prepared. I don’t normally feel claustrophobic but I had to take a minute to prepare myself when I first sat down. It’s jarring how tight it is, plus wearing a helmet doesn’t help. Keep your visor open when you get in so you can breathe. Closing it was my mistake.
• Be prepared to wait. They are getting as many people as possible cycling through these cars, and they do a great job of it, but roadblocks inevitably arise that will delay getting you in the car. My “class time” was 10 a.m. and I probably got into my car around 11:50 a.m.
• The school offers “insurance” that caps your liability in the event of an accident. If you don’t accept the insurance and pay the $60, you could be liable for any damage to the vehicle. At first I declined the insurance, but at the insistence of the instructors, I wound up getting it. It seemed a bit like a scam, but in the end it’s probably worth it. My ride went without incident, or anything even remotely close, but you never know.

The Essentials

What: The Rusty Wallace Racing Experience

When: Multiple weekends throughout the year, but not every weekend. Plan ahead and schedule online. Don’t just show up.

Where: Charlotte Motor Speedway

Who: Anyone who knows how to drive a manual transmission and wants to feel like Dale Earnhardt for eight minutes

Why: Because skydiving is for babies.

*One school has an instructor riding shotgun, another school has you follow behind a pace car.