NASCAR newbie takes driving lessons from Tony Stewart
FORT WORTH, Texas (AP) -Riding shotgun with Tony Stewart at 170 mph is a pain in the neck.
As we whipped around the tight turns of the Texas Motor Speedway, Tony Stewart gave off the relaxed vibe of a man out for a Sunday drive.
I sat terrified in the passenger seat, fighting G-forces against my neck that constantly forced my head to turn right. Over the screaming engine, Tony Stewart apologized that the modified No. 20 race car couldn't go faster, then took me an inch or two from the wall.
My exhilarating ride capped a day of driving lessons from the two-time NASCAR Cup champion, who tried to teach a group of reporters how to drive stock cars. When Tony Stewart is back on the Texas track Sunday, he'll be one of 43 drivers going around 200 mph in the Dickies 500.
Tony Stewart won the race last year. He's fifth in the Chase for the Nextel Cup championship, but has finished 13th and 30th in the two races since he let me ride along.
I take no responsibility for Tony Stewart's slump, but do pity him for having to play driver's ed instructor to a bunch of amateurs like me. I actually Googled "How to drive stick" before heading to the track.
I'm a NASCAR newbie whose only prior experience with stock cars was turning the channel every time a race came on. About all I knew going in was my firm belief that some drivers would get sponsor logos tattooed on their faces for the right price.
I didn't even recognize Tony Stewart when he shuffled into the locker room 15 minutes late, clutching a cup of coffee and sporting at least one day's stubble. I was expecting someone bigger, more athletic, better looking.
Instead, his hair was slicked back into a borderline mullet, like he was living up to some sort of bad NASCAR stereotype. He has a small pot belly and a double chin. Give him a notebook and a pen, and he would have blended in with his students.
Tony Stewart may be a top driver, but he's not the world's best teacher. Some of his advice seemed sound, like when he recalled the first time he climbed behind the wheel of a stock car in 1996.
"I was absolutely scared to death and had no clue what I was doing," Tony Stewart said, making me wonder whether he was reading my mind.
Good stuff. But then he said this:
"A car's like a girlfriend. Sometimes it will tell you stuff without actually saying the words."
I needed more from Tony Stewart, perhaps something that made sense. I was hoping he would teach me the basics, like which pedal was the clutch.
I'm not entirely clueless behind the wheel. Tony Stewart might have won himself a couple series titles, but I commute 72 miles roundtrip through Dallas rush-hour traffic in a nine-year-old Neon. I'd like to see Mr. Home Depot do that and not lose his cool.
And I like speed, too. The fastest I'd ever driven previously was 100 mph - not in the Neon - and I have the $330 speeding ticket to prove it.
But punching the gas pedal of a stock car and feeling its power rumble up through your feet and hands is a whole different kind of driving.
"As soon as you climb through the window and your butt hits the seat, your blood pressure and heart rate is going to be up a lot higher than you think it is going to be," Tony Stewart said.
The key to staying alive, it turned out, was to enter the turns high and immediately ease off the gas. I also was taught to let the car drift down to the inside as I rounded the turns and to hit the gas again as I came into the straightaways.
The car I was driving had a limiter on it that prevented me from driving faster than 150 mph. Fine by me. Turns out there are other differences between stock cars and the one you drive: no cupholders or fast food wrappers, to name two.
Also, you have to climb in through the window, which looks cool on "The Dukes of Hazzard." In real life, it's easy to bang your head, your knees and your elbows. Once in, I needed help getting strapped and belted into my seat.
Now secured, I realized Tony Stewart was right. My heart thumped, my breathing quickened and my hands began to sweat inside my fancy racing gloves. I assured myself this was normal.
I forgot my fears once I hit the gas. Aided by a driving instructor who prevented me from doing anything stupid, I drove 10 laps around the track, passed three cars and didn't hurt anybody. The speed shoved me back into my seat, and I'm sure my knuckles turned white.
My average speed was 133 mph, good for seventh out of the 17 reporters. The fastest driver averaged 141 mph and the slowest 85. I entered my turns high, came through them low and floored the gas pedal whenever possible. Most importantly, I didn't stall, crash or otherwise embarrass myself.
I still plan on flipping the channel past NASCAR, even though I took with me an appreciation for the dangers faced by Tony Stewart. And a very sore neck.
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