In Search of a Rush

SRT Experience
In Search of a Rush
When I was sixteen years old a “Rush” was a weekly occurrence. There was always a new experience or a surge of hormones to give me the feeling that life couldn’t get any better. My childhood was not that far in my past and I was still aloud to feel like a child and even act like a child under the appropriate circumstances. I still remember my first car in 1960, a 1956 Ford with a T-Bird engine, or the new Austin Healey Sprite that I took off to college. Then there was that first kiss, then the first kiss with tongue, and the “hay ride" and “Wow” playing football on Friday night in front of hundreds of people and winning. As I have aged I have become aware that those “Rushes” are harder and harder to come by. Several years ago with my family raised and a bit more comfortable I have started to seek out opportunities to achieve the ever allusive “Rush” that I so fondly remembered.
“Rushes” don’t come so easy now and they are much more expensive, but I have also realized that a “Rush” is also a memory, and some day in the future memories may be all I will have and I better accumulate as many now while I still can.
My quest has taken me on a nine day white water rafting excursion through the Grand Canyon, a six day cruise and exploration of the Galapagos Islands, a hike into Iguassu Falls in South America, a seven day barge trip through the French wine country, and a 172 mph drive around the Talladega Race Track as a part of the Richard Petty Experience. Each of my adventures provided the desired “Rush” as well as great memories. So when I saw the article in the USA Today on the STR Track Experience and it announced that the next stop was at the Barber Race Track just ten miles from my home, I jumped on line and signed up. This would be the cheapest and easiest “Rush” of recent history.
Wanting someone to share the experience with, I invited my son to go with me. “ Trent , how would you like to go out to the Barber Track and drive a Dodge Viper with instruction from the Skip Barber Driving School? ? I’ll pay; it’ll be you Christmas present from me.”

His response was a predictable “Sure.”
He had also attended the Richard Petty Experience and the Grand Canyon trip under similar arrangements, so the Christmas gift offer was no surprise. After all, a good “Rush” is all the better if you’re sharing it with someone.
We arrived at the track as instructed in the e-mail conformation at 8:00 a.m., me $600.00 lighter, but ready for a STR Track Experience. The conformation had alerted me that there could be as many as 100 participants. Trent and I were pleased when we were informed by the registrar that “There will be seven participants today, we have more Saturday and Sunday.” This could only mean more seat time for us.
The day started with an hour and a half class room instruction on the physics of driving an automobile at high speeds. The class room instruction was not only informative but also entertaining as a result of the presentation of Terry one of the Skip Barber instructors. We then moved three Ram SRT-10 pick-up trucks, three Crossfire SRT-6 Coupes and , three Chrysler 300C SRT 8’s, up to one of the track parking lots for the drag strip and slalom experience.
Trent and I jumped into the trucks figuring we would get the one that we were least interested in done while we were learning the course. “You drive first,” I told Trent, figuring I could learn from his mistakes. I own a 911 Porsche SC-4 which requires a feet-in-slide-in method of entry; I was taken a back to find myself pulling myself up into this truck. It reminded me of getting into an 18 wheeler. The cockpit was huge, but comfortable.
Trent pulled this hog up to the starting line of what appeared to be a 300 yard straight shot down to the green cones marking the finish line. “OK, watch the descending lights, are you ready?” The instructor in the tent next to the lights asked. The amber lights sequenced down and with the illumination of the green light Trent jammed the accelerator to the floor and the hog leaped forward with the rear tires screaming. We climbed through first gear, leaped into second and were half way to the green cones. It was about this time that Trent and I both sized up the length of the deceleration area. “Not enough room,” we both thought to ourselves, based on our past pick-up truck experience. I pressed my right foot into the plush carpeting wishing that this baby had come with a passenger side brake.
Trent thinking like me pulled up from the accelerator about twenty feet from the green cone marking the finish line and hit the brake with full force just past the green cones. “Da, da, da, da,” the SRT-10 ABS brakes bit in and its 6350 pounds came to a stop with 50 yards to spare. “Holly shit, did you feel those brakes, you pulled up before the finish line.” “You bet I did, I didn’t think I had enough room to stop, I thought we were going to crash through the fence.”
We collectively caught our breath and turned to enter the slalom course. “Do you believe there letting us do this,” Trent asked. The instructor at the start of the slalom course received Trent's time on his first run on the drag strip over his walkie-talkie, “7.77 seconds,” he reported. “Now on this course there are five comes, start out wide and cut in on the first cone real tight, just miss it with your left front, then start to set up for the second cone this will put you into a position to approach the second third and forth cones tight and you’ll be able to maintain a steady speed and a tight pattern. It all sounded easy enough but took some practice as we would learn as we each took two turns with each of the three cars. The times were faster with the STR-6 and STR-8 and I was blown away with the engineering and handling of both vehicles.
The mornings driving experience taught us to trust good brakes, and to drive a smooth consistent pattern. The afternoon was spent applying what we had learned about the physics of high speed driving and the respect that we had gained for the vehicles we had been driving.
The Skip Barber instructors had set up a driving course in one of the parking lots in the shape of a indented kidney creating a hair pin turn on the bottom followed by a chicane turn, followed by a sweeping left turn over the top of the kidney. The seven of us started the course in the STR-4, moved up to the Crossfire, then into the Viper. We each took four laps with an instructor in the passenger seat, coaching and encouraging us to improve our skills. We did this twice in each car. I learned through practical experience what Terry had taught me that morning. “Do not attempt to turn under heavy breaking.” “Turn the race track into a series of straight lines, which you get the maximum speed from your car.” “Based on the set-up of your car you can only go through any given turn at a predetermined speed without loosing control of your car.” And most important, “Always be looking forward to your next goal or target.”
By the time I move into the Viper I was feeling confident of my mastery of these driving skills. “Aim for the green cone full throttle, 70 mph, hard brake, 20 mph, hard left turn into the hairpin, look through the turn to your next target, squeeze in some throttle, turn through the chicane, full throttle to the next target, 60mph, hard brake, feather brake and turn through the top of the kidney, look to target number one, full throttle and do it all again.”
The Crossfire had a system that would electronically correct for my over acceleration into turns, the Viper did not, it expected me to be a better driver, so when I went into the hairpin with to much speed the rear end came around and took out a half a dozen cones. No one got upset my instructor pointed out my mistake and we did the course again. After each trip through the course the participants gathered in the tent adjacent to the course and high five’d and shared their child like enthusiasm that had been suppressed in many cases for years. This all had been a “Rush” amongst a group of people who had only met five hours ago but shared a common love for cars and speed; and the best was yet to come.
“Let’s take a five minute break, and then meet me in the tent over there on the track.” Terry said. I looked to the tent and saw a table filled with driving helmets. I looked back to Trent, “We’re going to get to drive on the track.” “Ya, this is great, I had no idea that this was going to be this great,” he said with raw enthusiasm. Being 36 Trent still has the ability to express his feelings like a teenager.
After the break we assembled under the tent. On the pit lane were three Ram SRT-10’s, three Crossfire SRT-6’s, and three Vipers. “Here’s how this is going to work,” Terry explained, “you’ll each get to drive a sessions in each of the 10, the 6, and the Viper. It will be done under a lead-follow format, an instructor will lead you around the 2.3 mile track at a speed that you are comfortable with, push them as hard as you can. You must stay behind the instructor in the SRT-4. You’ll go out in groups of three. When the instructor turns on his turn signal the driver directly behind the instructor will peel off to the left and allow the other two drivers pass and then fall in to the rear of the pack; so each of you will have an opportunity to push the instructor.”
The Barber Race track is a road course, 16 turns, 80 feet of elevation change and long straight-a-ways; a true test of what we had spent the past six hours learning. Over the next hour I gained a new level of respect for the quality that Daimler Chrysler is putting into their Dodge and Chrysler products as well as the skills of a race car driver. I drove the Viper, the Ram SRT-10, and the Crossfire SRT-6 as hard as I could, I had the tires screaming through the turns, the rear ends sliding, the accelerator pushed to the floor down the straight-a-ways, and the brakes smelling from the heat as I set up my turns. I was driving like a race care driver in some “bad-ass vehicles”. This was a bigger “Rush” then I had anticipated, and that was good.
Back at the pits we all gathered and shared our experiences, each trying topping the other. The smell of rubber and over heated brakes only added to the ambiance. “It’s pay back time,” Terry announced, “put your helmets back on the instructors are now going to take you for a ride.”
I ran for the black Viper and climbed in next to Keith, a twenty eight year old who claimed he had been racing for the past twenty years. We were the first car on the track; the following is what I remember about our first trip around the 2.3 mile track.
Through third gear coming out of the pits, about 80 mph, down the hill at 90 mph, hard brake testing my seat restraint, double clutch down into first gear, hard right turn, the roar of the engine the screaming of the rear tires attempting to get to the front of the car, Keith jerking the steering wheel hard right then left then right again in an attempt to keep the front tires in front of the rear tires, accelerating through second gear up a small incline, hard brakes , double clutch, back into first, building speed through the chicane while shifting up to second gear, squeezing the throttle towards the side of the track, half right turn, shift into third and full throttle up a blind hill, over the hill up to 133 mph, the side course markers counting down 4, 3, 2, slam on the brakes, again the seat belt pull, screaming tires, 20 mph, 1, double clutch down to first gear, hard left turn, my helmet slammed against the top frame, thump, thump as our left then right side tires went over the concrete track extenders through another chicane turn, back up to 100 mph, hard brake right turn feathering brakes and throttle through a left and right turn then full throttle down the front straight back up to 133 mph. Keith give me a thumbs-up, “How’s that, Isn’t this fun.” My response was a well thought out, intellectual, “Holy Shit.” We made three more laps around the course each one more amazing then the proceeding. I realized that although I was the owner of a Porsche I had never really driven it as it was built to be driven.
I had just experienced the most accelerating ride of my life, a ride that put those highly engineered rides at 6 Flags, and Universal to shame, and this ride was orchestrated by a highly skilled twenty eight year old. What made it all the more accelerating was that Keith enjoyed giving me such a ride as much I did taking it.
The day ended with a diploma, hand shakes, heart felt good byes, knowing that we probably would never see each other again, but also knowing that each of us had captured our own memory that the others would play a fading role in as time passed, and yet although names would soon be forgotten and images would fade, we all achieved a “Rush”, a child like feeling that we all so craved back in our lives.
Labels: Travel