Tuesday, April 7, might have been the best day of my life.
Beneath the unrelenting sun, I walked into downtown Long Beach, cursing myself for not remembering sunscreen. I found my way to the Long Beach Convention & Entertainment Center and was immediately lost, having never been there before. It didn’t help that there were fences everywhere, blockading the streets and sidewalks.
I looked anxiously around for someone to point me in the right direction. At this rate, I was going to be late for my 9:55 a.m. date. Then, I heard it: The revving of engines. The screech of tires. Then, the smell: Exhaust fumes and the smell of burning rubber filled my nose.
I spun around, following the sound until I could see it – a sleek, golden Porsche Carrera Cup race car flying by, also running late for our date apparently.
I don’t know much about race cars (my knowledge comes exclusively from the 2005 Lindsay Lohan movie, “Herbie: Fully Loaded”). I did know one thing – they’re fast. And as a self-proclaimed adrenaline junkie, that was enough to put riding in one on my bucket list. So when my editor asked if I wanted to do a ride-along in one of the cars that will race during the Grand Prix of Long Beach, which is scheduled for April 17-19, I didn’t even have to think about it.
On Tuesday, the Acura Grand Prix of Long Beach hosted its annual media day, with dozens of reporters, YouTubers and influencers getting to talk with professional racers and ride along with them around the nearly 2 mile race track – the opportunity of a lifetime in my book.
Before heading to Long Beach for my date with race cars and adrenaline, I excitedly signed a handful of liability waivers (you know, in case I die), and kissed my partner and puppy goodbye, just in case
And about that date. The Porsche was not the only race car I met. Also on my list were cars from the IndyCar Series and Formula DRIFT. What can I say, I like to play the field – or race track.
I started off testing the waters with the Porsche. Enclosed in a street car with only a helmet, I thought I might have set my expectations too high. I was wrong. Porsche factory racer Patrick Long started at about 80 mph — and quickly accelerated to 180 mph. The ride was smooth, with the car going so fast, and it felt like the tires were lifting off the ground. I closed my eyes, pretending I was flying. Then, my body suddenly slammed over to the left, hitting the center console, and my eyes jerked open.
I frantically looked around, sheer force keeping my body to the console, and I saw what had interrupted my daydream – a roundabout with a dolphin statue on it, spewing water, in the middle of the track. I had forgotten we were on regular roads with turns, curves and yes, roundabouts.
It only lasted half of a second. But in that moment, it felt like time stood still as I watched the water shoot out of the top of the fountain, droplets glistening across the Long Beach high rises in the background.
Then, in an instant, the moment was gone like it never happened.
So, the Porsche was fun and mesmerizing. I would give it a 9/10.
Next, was the highly coveted, two-seater IndyCar. Low to the ground and in an open air vehicle, this ride required a bit more preparation. I once again signed away my family’s right to sue if I died and donned a fire-retardant jumpsuit. Even with all the implications of horrific injury and imminent death that came with the jumpsuit, I looked pretty awesome.
The IndyCar was definitely a more intimidating specimen and the other passengers around me were anxiously bouncing on the balls of their feet, asking those getting out of the cars what it was like.
With white faces, wild eyes and windswept hair, let’s just say they didn’t instill much confidence. But I wasn’t nervous or scared. I thought, “If this is how I go out, at least it will have been fun.” Did I mention that I have extreme FOMO?
I sat as still as I could as the pit crew put my helmet on, strapped me in and secured a neck brace behind my head. The engine revved and I braced myself, ready for when my driver, IndyCar racer Gabby Chaves, would speed onto the track.
As a rollercoaster fanatic, I knew the feeling well – the anticipation before the speed kicks in, trying pointlessly to ready yourself for that moment when your body slams into the back of the seat and you’re gasping for air.
Then it happened. Chaves slammed on the gas and we were flying. We were going the same speed as the Porsche, but it felt much faster being in the open air. The wind burned my face, weaving its way through the small slits in my face cover. The pressure gripped my eardrums and my helmet, a little loose (they didn’t have a small one), began to float off my head. Then, we approached a turn and Chaves slowed. Instantly, everything returned to normal. But it didn’t last long.
When we pulled up to the pit, I stepped out of the car and took off my helmet, my hair windswept, face white and eyes as wild as those before me.
The IndyCar was more painful than the Porsche, but more thrilling. I’d give it a 9.5/10.
Now for the Big Kahuna (at least for me) — Formula DRIFT.
Like I said, I don’t know much about race cars, but everyone has seen the clips of the occasional drifter spinning off the track in a cloud of smoke, EMTs rushing to extricate the driver. So naturally, I was the most excited about this date.
My driver was No. 64, three-time Formula DRIFT champion Chris Forsberg. I got strapped into the car and amped myself up as we drove ahead and … got in line. There were about 10 drifters in front of us waiting for their turn. Two cars went at a time, racing each other. We slowly crawled toward the track for about five minutes and I almost got out of the car.
With a mask and helmet covering my mouth and the exhaust from all the other cars filling my lungs, I thought I might suffocate. And it was hot. So hot that as I pulled down my mask to breathe (bad idea, by the way, when the air is just one giant cloud of car exhaust), and I could see heat waves dancing across the track in the distance.
Finally, we got to the front of the line and I thought, “This better be worth it.”
And boy was it.
We played around a bit in the beginning, going back and forth, careening from side to side. And then we lined up next to our opponent. Time to race.
We sped forward, the other car drifting in front of us. Forsberg pushed back, almost hitting the other car. Then our opponent swung in front of us, slamming on the breaks so hard that smoke from the burning tires filled the car. I couldn’t see anything. For a solid 30 seconds, I had no concept of our surroundings. I really hoped Forsberg knew what he was doing. News flash, he did.
My heart was hammering as we did a 360 degree turn, escaping the smoke. I felt electric and for a brief moment I thought maybe I should change careers. I then thought better of it – I can barely drive my tiny Nissan Versa down the 405 Freeway.
We ultimately lost the very short race, but Formula DRIFT won me over – 15/10! I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to getting my thrills from boring, old rollercoasters.
I left the track with a grin on my face, a skip in my step, helmet hair and very, very sunburnt. But I would do it all over again. That being said, letter to the editor: can I please go again next year?