Go Speed Racer!

Last week I flew out to California to visit my little brother. Stephen is, among a great many other things, an avid car enthusiast. He owns two cars himself, one of them being a vintage, very sleek and very sexy Porsche. One morning during my visit we drove north of San Diego where for a car race. I might as well come clean and tell you I was somewhat lukewarm on the whole car race idea. It probably won't surprise you much to hear that I'm not that interested in cars. I mean, I love my jeep and there are some vehicles on the road that look pretty bad-ass, but on the whole I'm not exactly what you would call a "car fanatic."

My brother, on the other hand is a different story.

So we get to this race. My Dad, my brother, and I all arrived via Stephen's Porsche 911. Which is certainly a cool car in which to make an entrance. (So long as comfortable, roomy seating isn't your thing.) Stephen greets the many drivers and sponsors he knows, introducing my father and I around. One of the guys he knows best asks if maybe my Dad would like a ride in one of the cars. Stephen answers for him, "yes." Before I know what's happening, Stephen follows that yes up with, "And a ride for my sister too if at all possible?" I open my mouth to protest. "Nope. You're going, Kelli. No debate." Stephen's friend nods and walks away, eagerly on the hunt for a willing driver and am empty passenger seat.

Which...is how it came to be that about twenty minutes later I was strapping myself in to a race car.

As I was buckling up, thinking to myself, "Oh, it's just like an intense seat belt." Stephen came over to check my gear. While he tightened up every single strap, he informed me that I would be jostled around like I probably couldn't imagine, but not to worry. The belt would hold.

Ha. Not to worry. Right.

I realize I look all sorts of excited here, which I was. My heart was also beating five times faster than normal and my palms were sweatier than they were the night I met my absolute favorite singer, Josh Ritter - something I hadn't thought possible until this car ride.

My driver (ha! like I have my very own driver!) came over and climbed into the driver's seat, introducing himself. He asked if I'd ever been on a track before and explained he'd do a few laps with me. "If you start to feel sick," he said, "just let me know and we'll slow down." I nodded politely but thought to myself 'oh hell no. I am not going to be that stereotype. I don't care how scared I get, I refuse to be "that girl" that asks him to slow. down.'

And then I complemented him on the color scheme of his car. Because while I wasn't going to act the girly girl part when it came to speed, I'm certainly not too proud to let someone know when I find something aesthetically pleasing.

These races are not your typical round-the-track, Nascar type of car race. Instead, they take place on an old airplane runway, with cones laid out on the course, plotting a variety of twists and turns and the like. The minute the green flag is waved, you are off (leaving your heart and stomach back with that green flag) and you do not stop moving at what feels like warp speeds until you come to the finish line.

I'm proud to say I did not get sick and I certainly did not ask the driver to slow down. I did grip the sides of those bucket racing seats with all of my might and I worked to keep my eyes focused on the horizon. (If it works on boats why not in a race car?) My driving buddy and I did two laps together, total. The second round was certainly less scary than the first and by the time we finished up our run together my adrenaline had skyrocketed further than I thought possible.

While I don't foresee myself purchasing my own race car in my lifetime I will tell you that I may have done a little fist pump with my brother, followed by a leap in the air once I unbuckled and climbed out of the car. But you'll just have to take my word on that.