Do you have a "bucket list"? I don't even remember mentioning to Missy that I would love to drive a race car but she arranged for me to drive one at the KY Speedway in Sparta, KY. It was the gift for my 50th birthday. Missy and I drove up there to meet my cousin Rodney, who also got to drive too. There were a lot of other "drivers" there and registered for the Dale Jarrett Racing Adventure. After receiving instruction for about an hour we headed out to the track. They had 5 retired stock cars and one pickup truck that had been used in actual races. Rodney and I were outfitted in firesuits then assigned to the pickup truck. Seems that the larger guys were put in the truck and everyone else in the stock cars. At a little over 6 feet tall and little overweight (204 #), that was enough to secure me a spot in a truck not a car. Bummer, at least until a training instructor in the truck informed me that they were a lot more fun to drive than the cars. As I was heading toward the truck, a twentysomething, grabbed me by the arm and said, "Are you ready for a fun ride, old guy?". Thanks, Junior.
I hopped in the truck, barely got the helmet on and then they attached the neck support. After being strapped in I could hardly move my head. Fortunately, we learned hand signals so as to know when to shift, accelerate of change lanes. So, I never really saw the face of my co-pilot but for a second. There were a lot of gauges in the truck but no speedometer. It was easy to shift and drive, but needless to say, quite intimidating. Later, I learned that my first lap had a top speed of 115mph. My average speed for my 18 laps was 124mph and top speed was 144mph.
What a rush it was! I was glad we had the 18 lap package instead of the 3 or 8 laps. It took at least that long to get the hang of it and find a good "line" on the track. The only extra nervous moment I had was when my co-pilot grabbed the wheel and tried to keep me near the white wall on the outside through the straight stretch. Normally, I might be a little uncomfortable when a stranger in a firesuit continues to push my knee (which attaches to my lower leg and foot) to floor the gas pedal. This guy wanted me to have the ride of my life and he was risking his by making me go as fast as possible.
I will never forget it and thank God for life in the fast lane with such a wonderful woman to share it with.
