Always had the dream of racing at Indy but lacked three important things: mechanical ability, money and talent. I remember driving at a go-kart track in Anaheim when I was 9 and could barely reach the pedals, but talked my grandmother into letting me try it. But I always used to imagine myself turning laps at the Brickyard: whether I was on my bike in the neighborhood, at the roller skating rink or on the bumper car track.
Early in my radio career, I was scheduled to take the Bob Bondurant High Performance class and do nightly updates as part of a barter deal for our sports talk show. Unfortunately, the station was sold and the show cancelled before we could make it work.
However, the new ownership worked a deal with the local Malibu Grand Prix to do a "DJs vs. listeners" promotion one summer. I've got the trophy downstairs somewhere for winning the series by a considerable time difference, because I had been out there with friends a number of times and understood the basic principles of how hard you could push them in the corners. If I had any money at all back then, I might have tried to talk my way into a Formula Ford and run SCCA weekends.
In Rocky Mount, they needed someone to test drive cars for their weekly automotive column, and wound up driving everything from mom vans and pickups to Corvettes and a Viper, which had so much torque that I looped it making a left turn out of the paper's parking lot when I gave it the same amount of acceleration as I would my Honda CRX. (I eventually took it out to the old airport runway where the police did their high-speed training. I got up to at least 120 mph before I scared myself enough to back out of it before I ran out of talent/brains.)
About 10 years ago, I casually mentioned to Tony Stewart how impressed I was with the three-quarter midgets that were running in central Indiana, and he immediately offered to sell me one. It took a considerable amount of effort -- and thinking, "Gwen's not going to think that's a good idea at all" -- before I politely declined.
My one major claim to fame was driving a Caroll Shelby Ford Mustang GT500 Super Snake pace car at Las Vegas in 2009 -- with Carroll Shelby in the passenger seat. We were SUPPOSED to be able to take laps on the track after Friday Cup practice. But NASCAR's tech guys were still setting up when the race queen roared by at 110 mph, and David Hoots immediately impounded the car until race morning. Before the race, I got to drive it out of the gate and onto the I-10 access roads with Shelby, and I never got it out of first gear because the damn thing could easily pull 55 mph before you hit the revs needed to shift into second. What could have been!
My younger brother, on the other hand, has spent time -- and more money than he probably should -- logging some time in the 24 Hours of Lemons series. I think the last time he ran was Road Atlanta before COVID. I'd have come down to watch if it was free. But they wanted something like $25 entry fee to watch beat-up Infinitis, Hyundais and Mazdas make more tire squeal than engine noise.