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Geared up and ready to go, I fastened the seatbelt which made me feel naked when compared to the five point harnesses that I was used to. I slipped on my gloves and started the car. I eked onto the racetrack and babied the car for the first couple laps. The only other times that I had pushed my car were the few times that I pitched it on the freeway onramps. Configuration 13, clockwise at Buttonwillow was not quite the same thing.
Every lap that I took, I pushed it a little harder, broke a little later, and carried a little more speed into the turns. I was spoiled from the fully caged and gutted racecars that I had been driving for the past couple of years and this was nothing like that feeling. In comparison, my Civic felt like a Cadillac Seville as it bobbled into Cotton Corners and in through the Bus Stop. And the Buttonhook? The Buttonhook felt like I was in the Titanic, trying to make a U-turn.
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| Cotton candy sweet to go, let me see that tootsie roll! |
