By Harry L. Nurse Jr.Have you ever watched the hardcharging stock cars of NASCAR or theswift open wheel speed machines ofCART and said to y<strong>our</strong>self, "I coulddo that?" Just a matter of having thec<strong>our</strong>age to put y<strong>our</strong> foot on the floorand the place to do it, right?While attending the Mississippi OnsiteWastewater Conference in Biloxi thispast April, I received two surprises- abirthday cake from my friends in theassociation there and a card from mywife saying, "For y<strong>our</strong> birthday, you aregoing to the Skip Barber Racing Schoolin Sebring, FL."Jeff Gordon is a graduate of the SkipBarber School. So is Michael Andrettiand about a third of the field that startsthe Indianapolis 500. It was always adream of mine and I was as excited asa kid with a new toy.Two days later, I checked into theHoliday Inn for a good night's sleepbefore starting this adventure. Sleep?You've got to be kidding! Theinstructions clearly warned, 'Startingtime is seven-thirty. Don't be late!' Iwas so excited, I was there by seven.So were the other twenty drivers.April in Florida means humid, 85-degree days and 65-degree nights. Bythe time I had met my classmates andinstructors and awkwardly donned themandatory bright red fire-resistant racingsuit and helmet for the first time, I wasalready sweating. I toldmyself it was only theweather.34After the first h<strong>our</strong> of instruction- howto start the car, how to stop the car,the importance of 'both feet in if youspin' and how not to get killed whilehaving a good time- I went down tothe track to check out my car for myfirst ride. My Barber-designed FormulaDodge was bright red and bullet-shaped.Low to the track with a steering wheelthe size of a small plate, it looked likeit was doing a hundred sitting still.And then we got in the cars. And Ido mean in. Shoehorned into areclining plastic shell and held firmlyin place with a five point harness thatprotects you 'in case' and helps holdyou stable through sharp turns at highspeed, I waited the order to start engines.Everything felt awkward - the slopedangle of the seat, the pull of the safetyharness, the strange clothes, the helmet,the position of the accelerator, brakeand clutch pedals.The instructor circled his hand tightlyabove his head giving the start up signal.Turning the starter switch the enginecame to life for the first time. Asinstructed, I pressed the accelerator towarm the engine and heard the throatyrumble, rumble, pop-pop sound of theexhaust. It was the beginning of anadrenaline rush greater than I had everexperienced before.I followed theDodge Neon pacecar out of the pitsto the backsideof the trackwhere a slalomc<strong>our</strong>se was setup. Each car raced in turn through thec<strong>our</strong>se of six cones. On the thirdpractice pass, second gear, throttle tothe floor, I accelerated through the firstand second cones, lifted off theaccelerator, jammed the brakes hardand cut hard to the left sending thecar completely around and backwardsat 50 mph.Another h<strong>our</strong> of instruction - how tofind and drive the line, avoid the earlyapex unless you want to spin, entercorners slow so you can go faster out,and stop in a straight line.Back in the car for the braking exercises.As I waited my turn in line, I watchedthe cars ahead accelerate one at a timefor fifty yards and then lock up theirbrakes sending them into anuncontrolled skid. My turn.I accelerated as quickly as possible andafter a dozen passes learned to 'makethe tires chirp'. Bringing the car to astop quickly enough to make the tireschirp, but not hitting the brakes hardenough to lock them up gives you bothcontrol and stops the car in the shortestpossible distance. A happy tire is achirping tire.On the third and final day, the practicelaps are now ten laps without stopping.All the cars are on the track at thesame time and even though you arenot officially racing, passing is allowedand we are finding out what it's like topass and be passed. The cars aretraveling at over 115 mph on thestraight-away and we drive as fast aspossible through the turns.After spending several h<strong>our</strong>s a daystrappedinside, the carfeels like anextension ofy<strong>our</strong> body.Being inthe car isnormal;being outof the carf e e l sstrange.
And the instructors tell you a fib. Gettingready to go for the 'last ride', I am told thec<strong>our</strong>se is over. No more driving. The lastride has already happened. They do this soyou will not try to drive beyond y<strong>our</strong> limitson what you expect to be y<strong>our</strong> last time inthe car. It seems more cars are lost or damagedon the 'last ride', than during the rest of thec<strong>our</strong>se so they have learned to eliminate it.I wanted to cry. All that adrenaline pumpingand no place to go.Well not exactly. Barber runs over 60 racesa year in an amateur series that school graduatescan drive in to satisfy their need for speed.So I'm thinking about it. And I have beenlooking at a stock car that's for sale. Of c<strong>our</strong>seit would have to have a Rebel Flag on thehood. And I've been thinking how great itwould be to offer <strong>our</strong> <strong>Zabel</strong>Zone TM advertisersan additional ad on the ZABEL TM web siteand perhaps, just perhaps, I should throw ina nice bright logo on the new ZABEL racecar.And if that doesn't work, there's always theone day of instruction and 30-lap drivingexperience in a Winston style stock car I'msigning up for at the Charlotte Speedway.And there is always my next birthday wishand a loving wife who makes my dreams cometrue. You know Jan, I have always dreamedof owning a racecar.Gentlemen, start y<strong>our</strong> engines!SKIP BARBER RACING800-221-113135
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