Lyn St. James in training

I've been saying I'm a racecar driver for years. But my only real track time consists of a couple of Northwoods Shelby Club track days at Road America. Considering that's closer to racing than most people get, no one could really dispute me.

So when Colin decided a trip to Bondurant Driving School would make for a great anniversary gift, my initial reaction was excitement. However my excitement was soon replaced by fear. Going to driving school is the first step to getting a competition license. What if I didn't pass? What if I crashed and burned? A poor performance at driving school could out me once and for all, completely discrediting the happy little delusion I'd been living - and letting others believe - that I was in fact, a racecar driver. Plus I was pretty sure Colin would decide I was unfit to marry if I couldn't pass driving school. 

But this is what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted to have some concrete evidence behind my "I'm a racecar driver" story. So off I went to Bondurant driving school in search of my competition driving license and my nerve. 

Bondurant has a photographer on staff to take pictures of the students along with offering the option of having an in car camera installed to capture your track time. Naturally, I thought it'd be great to have the experience captured forever on a DVD. Two laps in it dawned on me, maybe the in car camera wasn't the best decision. Simply because it meant that if I did in fact fail, now there'd be documentation of my failure. I couldn't make up a story about mechanical failure, poor teaching or the lack of talent on behalf of another student because the whole experience would be caught on camera as proof. I seriously considered exiting the track so as to have the camera removed. But then I realized I was driving a C6 Corvette on a racetrack and instead of focusing on my impending failure, I should really be concentrating on the track. Isn't concentration the first defense against making a fatal mistake anyway? 

That was the last thought I gave to not passing the class. Honestly, how bad could I do? I'd had track time (though limited), Colin's confidence and an innate desire to go fast paired with just a hint of being overly cautious all on my side. Plus, it's the job of the instructors to teach me and guide me and make sure I pass. So if I didn't pass it was more a reflection on their ability as teachers than on my ability as a driver. (Isn't it nice to be able to rationalize anything?)

I did pass the class. And I even showed Colin the DVD. It wasn't the embarrassing evidence of what a poor driver I am I was worried it would end up being, besides that fact that maybe it showed a little more of my overly cautious side than my desire to go fast side. In fact, the DVD is really a great teaching tool. Colin and I can watch it together and he can help show me where I did well and where I could use some improvements. 

Now all I need is a racecar. Any sponsors out there? 

Life, 14 seconds at a time

When I road raced I was always surprised how calm the atmosphere inside the car was. With long straights stretching the engine to peak rpm's before every shift followed by the start of the braking zone before downshifting and then entering into a graceful turn and back on the accelerator. I'd expected it to be chaotic. But it was peaceful. No oncoming traffic, no real hurry. It was about planning, thinking, maneuvering. Basically it felt like being on a deserted open road, free to manipulate the car anyway you want, as fast as you could. Ultimately trying to reach the finish line first, but, with the exception of a crash at the start line, the race certainly wasn't won in the first sixty feet. To me, road racing is about what happens along the way. Road racing is ballet on wheels with the miles in between being the crescendo into the final scene, the curtain falling as you cross the finish line. Road racing is refined.

So when I tried drag racing for the first time, I thought the atmosphere inside the car would be the same. But I found out drag racing is raw. Drag racing is chaotic. A controlled frenzy. You have a quarter mile to go and you want to get there as soon as possible - but not necessarily as fast as possible. Fast doesn't always mean first. It's possible to drive faster than your competitor and still lose. A drag race can be, and most often is, won in the first sixty feet. Reaction time. Simplified, drag racing is reaction time. Stage. Wait for the lights. Yellow. Get the rpm's up. Yellow. Hold it there. Yellow. React. Green. Are you already launched? Did you hook up? Don't spin the tires. Feather the throttle. Shift. Floor it. Shift. Faster. Shift. So much going on, and in so little time. There's no room for error. React late, dump the clutch, spin the tires, those mistakes can all mean defeat. Drag racing's not like road racing where you have lap after lap, mile after mile to make up for a mistake. There's no planning. No maneuvering. It's react as fast as possible, hook up and go and it's over. Did your win light come on?