Photo : Rob Ristuccia

It has become a first-world tradition to treat surviving to the age of 40 as a great accomplishment, something to be celebrated. We’ve lived past what is likely to be the halfway point of our lives so why not check something off of our bucket lists?




Some men buy sports cars, but I already did that 2 years ago. Some men jump out of airplanes, but that doesn’t sound like fun to me. Some men have affairs, but I love my wife and family too much to throw that away. So what’s left for me? I went to racing school.



Specifically, I enrolled in a 1-day racing program with the Bertil Roos Racing School at New Jersey Motorsports Park. Bertil Roos operates from many race tracks across the country, including my “local” track in southern New Jersey. I chose them because of a combination of geography, price, and the car that I would be driving.




Why the car? Well, I wanted something with open wheels and a dog-leg manual transmission. To fully experience driving a race car, I thought I needed something with three pedals and gear lever - no paddle shifting this time around. Yes, I know that paddles would allow me to have much more brain space to concentrate on braking correctly and taking the right line through the turns, but that isn’t really the experience I wanted. I wasn’t after overall speed. Instead I wanted to know what it was like to drive the race cars I’ve read about and seen on the track.

The Scandia F2000 Photo : Rob Ristuccia


Bertil Roos uses the Scandia F2000 for these classes, a car they designed and built themselves. These are fairly simple cars with a 125-bhp 4-cylinder Ford racing engine mounted behind the cockpit that connects to the rear wheels through an unsynchronized 4-speed Hewland transmission. There are wings and either end and tiny, cramped cockpit in the middle. They are designed to be robust cars, with a modified Ford Pinto engine and a sturdy transmission that can take the abuse of an amateur driver (more on that later).



The Preparation

Before I could jump into the cockpit, there were a number of things that I did to prepare myself. First of all, Bertil Roos provides all class members with an instruction manual months in advance of the session. The book covers the basics from how to operate the car to how to enter and exit a corner to what the different flags mean. While it can never replace actual experience behind the wheel, reading the manual certainly helped me feel like I was more aware of what I had getting myself into. Book learning? Check.




Next I needed to acquire my racing equipment. Bertil Roos provides you with everything you really need in the shape of a fireproof racing suit and a helmet. Students are required to provide their own (narrow) shoes and a pair of gloves if you want them. And so I purchased a pair of Converse All-Star knockoffs made by Dunlop (because what says “racing driver” more than Dunlops for your feet?) and some work gloves from Home Depot. Equipment? Check.



In the months leading up to my race day, I also spent a few hours practicing the course in Assetto Corsa, a highly detailed racing simulation for the PC. It’s not a replacement for real driving, but it definitely helped me to feel like I knew the track when I arrived. Simulator practice? Check.




Preparation to drive really kicked into high gear when we arrived for race day. After signing in, we were fitted for our suits and helmets and then we sat for a 30-minute classroom session. Most of what was covered in the session was also covered in the racing manual, but it was still good to have an elite instructor go over everything. Out instructor was also so relaxed as he went through the lesson that he had a calming influence as the nervous tension started to rise.



I was worried that the class would consist of a bunch of semi-pro drivers and me, but it was a relief to see that most of them were as old and out-of-shape as I was. There were a few younger guys, most of whom were part of a bachelor party, and a couple of teenagers whose parents must be pretty wealthy. The rest of the field looked like me and had about as much experience as me too.




The before we could hit the track, we also had a short lesson to go over the operation of the car. This involved the instructor sitting in a car with the body work taken off so that we could see the pedals. He then went over how to operate everything in the car we would need: wheel, gear shift, gas, brake, and clutch as well as how to strap in using the 6-point harness. On the surface, this sounds pretty simple until you consider the unsynchronized 4-speed transmission required a different procedure to operate than what I was used to in my synchronized, road-car transmission.

Body work removed for instructional purposes Photo : Rob Ristuccia


To downshift in a road car (say, a 2001 Mazda Miata SE with some Flyin’ Miata upgrades, for example), you would release the gas pedal, press the clutch, slot the gear lever into gear, and then release the clutch, maybe giving the gas a little blip to help the synchros do their work. With an unsynchronized transmission, downshifting requires you to first release the gas and pull the lever into neutral, then blip the throttle, press the clutch, slot the lever into gear, and then release the clutch. It’s a difficult technique to do at slow speeds and is made even more complicated when done under heavy braking for a corner.



With that covered in the classroom, the last step before hitting the track in a race car was to go around in… a mid-2000s Chevy Malibu. The instructors took three students out at a time to show us the correct lines, pointing out the cones that marked where we could start braking, where to turn into the corner, the apex, and the point on the outside that we should aim for on the way out. The whole time, they emphasized the importance of looking to the next marker so that your eyes were well ahead of what the car was doing. It all seemed a bit strange when we were just creeping along in a Malibu, but it made more sense when we were moving more quickly in the race cars.




I always wanted to drive a mid-2000s Chevy Malibu on a race track Photo : Rob Ristuccia

No racing is without its dangers and, yes, even fatalities. On my second of three laps in the Malibu, we heard a call come over the radio, “Groundhog on the track near Turn 5.” For those of you not familiar with NJMP, Turn 5 is a blind, uphill, right-hander that banks downward after you hit the apex. Sure enough,when I crested the hill at the apex, there was the groundhog just on the other side. Then there was a thump to indicate that had I succeeded in doing something Bill Murray never could. I felt bad about that, but track driving requires concentration so I couldn’t dwell on my act of rodenticide for very long.




Anyway, with the Malibu laps completed, it was time to strap in and drive the real cars.



The Race Laps

I freely admit that I was more than a little bit apprehensive about getting out on the track. Could I do it? Could I work the gear box without breaking anything? Would my lines be embarrassingly off? Would I go off the track? Privately, I had decided to myself that I would focus on driving as smoothly as possible and staying out of trouble with little concern for going as quickly as possible. This seemed like the safest course of action.




Photo : Rob Ristuccia

Up close, the cars definitely looked like they had seen some serious racing. They were dirty, with oil splashed around the engines and cracks in the fiberglass body work. A lot of the tires looked like they had seen a many hard miles. Almost all of them had dried grass on the seats from off-track excursions. I found out later the Bertil Roos runs an entry-level race series from Friday to Sunday with the school sessions on Monday. What we were seeing was the result of a weekend of hard racing. It’s exactly what I wanted.




Photo : Rob Ristuccia

Photo : Rob Ristuccia


2.0-L Ford Pinto engine Photo : Rob Ristuccia

Photo : Rob Ristuccia


And so I lowered myself into the car, not an easy feat, even for someone as short as me. It took me two tries get my feet into position within the frame, but eventually I was in the seat. Then one of the crew members helped me to move it up so that I could reach everything I needed. Seat in position, they buckled me in and pulled my straps tight. With that, I pulled on my helmet (glasses off, helmet on, glasses on). I was afraid that wearing the helmet would make me feel like I was driving a car while looking through a mail slot, but it turned out to have surprisingly good visibility all around. Lastly, I pulled on my gloves and put up my umbrella.



Umbrella? Did I mention that it was hot? Like, really hot, over 90 degrees hot. It doesn’t take long for that heat to get to you when you are wearing a racing suit and helmet, so the school provided umbrellas to keep the sun off of us as we waited for the session to start. They also had plenty of water and sports drinks for us in between sessions, warning us to drink before we were thirsty and to come back to the pits immediately if the heat started to make us feel dizzy or fatigued on track. We were also advised to keep our visors up until we started moving. Unfortunately my visor wouldn’t stay up, so had to hold it up like Sir Bedevere in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That’s okay though, because it still left one hand free to practice shifting with my eyes closed before we started up the cars.




Here’s how the hot lapping sessions were organized: full-day participants had four sessions, half-day participants had two. Each session lasted 15-20 minutes with around 15 cars on track. There was no passing allowed except for on the start-finish straight in a designated passing zone marked by cones. If an instructor showed you the blue flag with an orange stripe, you would remain on the left side of the straight (the racing line) and proceed at half throttle until the end. If you were passing, you would proceed at full throttle on the right side of the straight and then move back over to the racing line at the end of the passing zone. In between sessions, the instructors would provide feedback on your driving technique to help you improve for the next round. This feedback got progressively more personalized as the half-day drivers left and last two sessions had only the four full-day drivers (including yours truly).



Out on the track, I found it easy to feel overwhelmed in my first session. For starters, I stalled the car twice when pulling out of the pits because I let the clutch out too quickly. Once I got it going, sitting just millimeters off the track surface and trying to manage the recalcitrant gearbox while braking and turning was definitely a challenge. And I could tell that I was not the only one feeling this way as several times I came upon a line of cars stuck behind a slow driver who just couldn’t figure it all out. We would stay like a slow-moving parade of race cars until we circled around to the passing zone.


Entrance to Turn 7; note that the engine cover has been left off the car due to the excessive heat Photo : Rob Ristuccia

Before I knew it, the first session was over and we were back in the pits. Everyone was sporting a big smile but we all seemed to agree that we just couldn’t get the hang of the gearboxes. I for one felt like every shift was rough and was relieved to hear that others had the same problem. We joked that we wouldn’t be surprised to find some pieces of our cogs laying out on the track after the session. It’s a good thing they built those transmissions with some extra heft.




While the second group went out on track, the instructors gave us some feedback on our performance: focus on driving straight to the cones at the exits, keep your eyes on the next marker, don’t lift when going through Turn 5 or The Lightbulb or else you will spin, don’t let your feet overlap the gas when pressing the brake pedal. Then it was back out onto the track for the next session.



Straight leading to the Turn 7 braking zone Photo : Rob Ristuccia


Straight leading to Turn 7 Photo : Rob Ristuccia

The next time around, things started to click a little bit more. I was still slower than a lot of the rest of the field and I was definitely braking well before the designated braking zones. My gear shifts were still pretty wonky and on a couple of occasions I found myself trying to exit Turn 7 in neutral instead of second gear. But what was starting to fade was that feeling that I just flailing around inside of a race car. I actually found myself with the brain space to start thinking more about what I was doing. Where was I stepping on the brake pedal? Where were my eyes looking? I also found time to enjoy the sensations of the car: the tiny throws of the gear lever (more like flicking a light switch than shifting gears), the incredible feel coming through the little steering wheel, the short travel on the pedals.




I noticed for the first time how I the breeze through the cockpit at speed really cooled me off despite my suit and helmet. And I started to realize how much the force of the wind made my helmeted head lift up when I was moving at speed down the straights. I learned to tilt my head slightly downward and look up with my eyes to keep my head from rolling backward too much. I also felt for the first time just how much I was straining against the straps when I pressed the brakes hard for Turns 1 and 7.



I also noticed some smears on my visor, which I attempted to wipe off while going down the main straight. What I failed to take into account, however, was that I was raising my hand up into an 80+ mph wind, which essentially caused me to smack myself in the helmet Bull Shannon-style


Things just got better with each session. I felt a little bit more comfortable, a little bit more like I was getting the feel for driving the car. I don’t think I ever got the hang of the gearbox, but I managed to pull off a few well-executed downshifts and the sensation was incredibly satisfying. A half-day session is not enough to really experience driving one of these cars. At the end of four sessions, I still didn’t have the hang of it but I could at least tell what I wanted to do and how I could find more speed in different places around the track. Sure, I got passed by a lot of people, but I was passing some people as well.



Ultimately, by the end of the last session, where I was clearly the slowest of the four cars left on the track, I realized that I had maybe not reached the end of skill level, but I had reached the end of my courage level. Yes, I could have braked harder and later, but I wasn’t comfortable doing that. Maybe I could have gotten on the gas sooner and then exited the corners with more throttle, but I didn’t want to spin. My earlier promise to myself still stuck in my mind: don’t hit anything and keep the car on the track.




There were a few incidents in our group. Several drivers spun completely around (usually in Turn 5 or The Lightbulb). At least one driver ran too deep into Turn 7 and went off the track (a move I made many times in the simulator but thankfully did not repeat in real life). And one of the teenagers spun in Turn 1 and hit a wall, bending the rear wing and completely tearing off the nose.

Turn 7 exit Photo : Rob Ristuccia


I appreciate that those drivers were probably faster than me and they found the limits of the car and their skill out on the track. Sure, there were a few places where I think I was actually pretty quick, notably braking for Turn 7, but overall most people on track were well ahead of me. However, that’s not really where I wanted to be. I was there for an experience and I think I succeeded in getting exactly what I was after.



At the end of the day, there was a strong sense of camaraderie among the participants, especially in the second half of the day. We had come together to do something that most people never get the chance to do and it was incredible. We laughed about our mistakes and had serious conversations about technique to try to help ourselves improve on the track. Our instructors warned us that most people who get this far feel like they need to go further into the sport.




When I got out of the car after the fourth and final session, I felt something that I wasn’t expecting. Climbing out of the car, I actually thought to myself, “That’s good. That’s enough.” I can be proud of my performance and that I took the challenge head on. I didn’t need to go any further right then. Maybe I’ll try out a different car on a different track some other time, but for now, I was very pleased with what I had accomplished in the solitude of that race car cockpit.



Thinking about the experience again two-days out (complete with sore muscles and a bruise on my left knee from using it to brace myself against the side of the cockpit), the thing that stands out the most to me is the new-found appreciation for just how hard racing drivers are working on the track. I have always known this in an academic way, but now I have experienced this first-hand. Next time I watch a race, I think I will feel just a little bit closer to the drivers on the track.


Follow me on Twitter @LtGeorgeZip