As a hardcore racing fan, the first racing game I remember really getting into was an F1 game for the SNES. But it wasn't until the release of Gran Turismo (GT) on the PSone that the game console was at last able to provide a virtual outlet for those of us whose desire to race exceeded our budgets. Since that day, racing games have continued to give us more life-like physics, more realistic graphics, better AI, and the chance to race against other humans as online multiplayer action became possible. Peripherals have gotten better (and more expensive), and the best of them promise to immerse us in the paddock from the comfort of our couches. All of this has been great fun for racing fans, but is any of it really true-to-life? What do racing video games teach you about racing real cars? I was recently able answer to this question when I got the opportunity to go ChumpCar racing.

Before I get any further, let's get something out of the way. I know there are PC racing sims that have more realistic physics models out there. I've played a couple of hours of GTR, but nothing more. But I have played lots of GT and Forza Motorsport, along with other console racers down the years, and that's the gaming experience I drew from as I tried doing it in real life.

It's a cold, gray April Fool's Day in Wisconsin. There are still banks of snow here and there, along with frigid icy puddles. I could be sitting in my office in Bethesda, but instead, I'm wearing nomex and standing on a low wall wondering if I've made a terrible mistake. A Ford Contour pulls up alongside. It's not exactly in showroom condition—the headlights are gone, replaced by plastic covers; one headlight has an air duct in it; the hood isn't standard; and she's painted rattle-can black rather than the silver that Ford sprayed her. The windows have been replaced with Lexan, and there's an impressive roll cage in place of the factory interior. I jump in, winding my way through the roll cage, and quickly get strapped in. I can barely see over the dash, but there's no time to worry about that. I get the signal to accelerate out of the pit lane and out onto the tarmac of Road America, one of the country's truly legendary racing circuits.

Regular readers will be aware of my passion for motorsport. People who know me in person know that the only video games I play are racing games, and I'd be lying if I said my honeymoon didn't involve the Monaco Grand Prix. (Yes, my wife is totally awesome, and I am a lucky man.) I didn't really get into cars until high school, but once I got a driver's license I was hooked. Devouring car magazines like the weekly Autocar meant exposure to racing series like Formula 1, touring cars, and Le Mans. However, it also became apparent that getting into motorsport was not the cheapest of hobbies, and with parents who were distinctly cool on the very idea, it seemed to be a non-starter, at least until I had the means myself. I'm also not much of a grease monkey. I grew up in a city with street parking, I live in a city with street parking, and I've never had the space or the opportunity to learn how to wrench or spanner for myself (beyond the easy stuff). If I still lived in flyover country, it's quite possible that I'd have turned our family Miata into a track car, but instead, I live in Washington, DC, and currently my time is worth more working in an office or writing for Ars Technica than learning how to fix car things. Thank heavens for video games.

Batteries not included

Sony is already making a fairly big deal about their GT Academy, where virtual racers can earn a spot racing a sports prototype. Recently, iRacing gave one of the best players a test at Road Atlanta... where his lack of fitness brought the test to a premature end. Even Top Gear got in the act, comparing Clarkson's performance around Laguna Seca in a real and virtual NSX. Now it's our turn.

A blossoming of grassroots motorsport here in the US has reduced the barrier to entry. Maybe not down quite as low as the price of a console and a fancypants steering wheel/pedals combo, but it's down to a price that fits my wallet. The 24 Hours of LeMons series is the best-known of the low-cost racing series that are springing up, but it wasn't particularly attractive. It seems to be more about parade floats and the organizers having a good time harassing the entrants than flat-out racing, with tales of black flags for putting a wheel off the track. But LeMons isn't the only game in town. Enter the ChumpCar World Series, an endurance series for cheap cars and real gear-heads.

My friend Nick had run some ChumpCar races last year in a Ford Escort. Over the winter, he and some other friends had been building a new car for 2011, the silver and black star of the first page. Since it was almost as easy to bring two cars to the track as was one, they asked if I'd like to race the Escort. Oh, and the first race of the year would be at Road America in Wisconsin, a legendary US road course. One thing led to another, and finding the extra drivers prepared to commit to sharing the car proved harder than imagined. Fortunately for me, Nick called to say that there had been some changes to the roster, and I would be joining him, Mike, and Alex in the Contour.

Things started getting real when, early in the new year, I made a trip to OG Racing in Sterling, VA, to buy a helmet, suit, gloves, boots, and nomex underwear. I could probably have done it all over the Internet, but when it comes to helmets, the fit is important, and being able to try a bunch on means it's worth seeking out a brick-and-mortar retailer. I decided that looking fast and feeling fast would be integral to actually being fast, and I sent my helmet off to be painted. This could be a double-edged sword, as there could be little more embarrassing than turning up at the track with a fancy painted helmet but no talent; clearly, I had to be quick in the car.

My training regime wasn't rigorous, but that's the point of this article, really. I played racing games from the comfort of my living room, and I'd done an hour's karting endurance race on a chilly Sunday morning in November when visiting family in the UK. Oh, and I read "The Unfair Advantage," Mark Donohue's memoir. I also conducted a dress rehearsal of sorts. In Forza, I built up a car I thought would be similar to Contour, in this case a Ford Focus, and upgraded it to roughly match what I knew about the Contour. Wearing my racing gear (helmet, balaclava, nomex race suit, gloves, boots), I then sat down and proceeded to lap Road America, until after about 45 minutes a combination of boredom and being quite hot prompted me to call it a day. I was able to make sure that my helmet was comfortable, and that my glasses wouldn't fog, but those virtual laps felt more remote than normal, something I think was down to the layers of fireproof fabric between my hands and the wheel, and the extra sound absorption of the helmet.