Down at the Speedway

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Today was the day. I would get to drive something which was a culmination of over 50 years of automotive engineering and progress. And no, it was not the Corolla we rented. We were headed out to “Exotics Racing” out near the Las Vegas Speedway where I would be driving not a Lamborghini, not a Ferrari, not even a Mercedes. I would be driving a Ford.

This wasn’t just any Ford. When we arrived I could see it sitting amongst a row of Huracans and Avenators; a red Mustang GT500. Since being resurrected in 2007, the GT500 has been Ford’s top Mustang trim and up until this year the philosophy has been just add more horsepower. First 500, then 540, then 660 as the model years went on. 2020 was no different. The snarling 5.2L V8 now puts out 760 horsepower with a supercharger so big it uses 100 hp alone just to spool up. But his time Ford actually paid attention to the brakes, suspension, and transmission so you don’t immediately fly off the road trying to take a corner or backing out of your garage or crawling through a Burger King drive through.

The wind buffeted the track this morning, bringing cold air and clouds down from the mountains. It was decidedly un-desert-like, but this meant fewer people showed up to go out on the track. After my safety briefing and introductory lap as a passenger in Porsche Macan, I was assigned a helmet. I was apparently too tall for a normal helmet, so I was assigned a “much-cooler” half helmet type thing. I reassured the staff I had a thick skull so that wouldn’t be a problem. I mean, clearly, I’d chosen to drive a car from Michigan rather than from Modena or Stuttgart.

I waited patiently for some maniac in a Dodge Charger Hellcat to take yet another set of victims passengers around the track for a high speed drifting ride-along before walking to the car. I could not convince Aly to partake in a ride in the Charger, but in her defense the car sounded like it was killing people with its crackling rumble just idling in the parking lot. My instructor today was a man half my height named Luigi. I noticed he was wearing a “proper” full-sized helmet.

I don’t feel I need to go into detail about the on track experience itself (I’ll upload short clip from the onboard video if you’d like to see the drive/hear the car). I of course loved it but was also partially terrified. Even as a full blooded motorhead I am surprised you can just walk into a dealership and buy one of these things without some sort of proof of driver competency. Then again, as with most modern supercars, this Mustang is chocked full of electronic nannys to make it at least drivable. Nanny’s which a was glad to have as they whipped the car back in line after understeering on one miscalculated turn. I was told my lap time was better than average, just like they tell everybody as they leave. As we were leaving Aly, once again demonstrating we are kindred spirits, said “your car sounded way cooler than the other ones. They were like ‘mehhhhhhhh’ while yours was like “PRRAAAARRRR”. Well, did I pick the right girl or what?

I felt really lame driving the Corolla again. But it was tens of dollars for the whole day rather than hundreds of dollars for what ended up being 10 minutes of driving the Mustang. Since the weather was kinda crummy we partook in an American tradition and went shopping at an outlet mall. It was so American it even charged $8 for parking. My mother will be proud to know I bought some new shoes of my own volition BEFORE my current ones completely fell apart. As the salesman packed up my purchase he described the giant praying mantis on Fremont street which shoots flames to 80’s music that we “had to go see”. “You can feel the heat from across the street, it’s amazing” he proclaimed in his very fitting Texan accent. Nothing else note-worthy really happened, other than more great “overheard in Vegas” quotes from the general public such as “why does there have to be walking all the time?” and “there’s hookers everywhere you know.”

We went back and Aly had a nap while I rode the overpriced rollercoaster a couple times. At this point we had enough rich food and went downstairs to an Asian restaurant for basic dinner involving mostly veggies and rice. Our good-humoured server, T.J., quietly asked us at the end of our meal “is it your anniversary?” We struggled to explain our actual martial status or lack thereof. “But it’s your anniversary today isn’t it?” he continued, nodding and winking. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” “Well happy anniversary!” he said a little louder so his supervisor could hear. He soon returned with a complementary slice of cheesecake with the words “Happy Anniversary” written in white chocolate on the side, much to our amusement. I paid in cash and T.J. popped his head our from around the corner, thanking us for the tip. Going into this meal I didn’t expect it to be anything special, but it went to show that with the right staff any restaurant can be an experience.

Penn and Teller’s long-running magic show was next over at the Rio. The wind was still cold and it started to rain so we were glad to have our little Corolla. These guys are class acts and I’d recommend them to anyone. Penn joined their usual jazz piano player on a big double bass as the theater filled. He also admitted that they like to change their show and added a couple new bits last night. “As you can see,” he exclaimed, “we have no idea what we’re doing.” Given the quality of their show, that was definitely not apparent. I appreciated that they greeted people in the lobby after the show as people filed out. They are the right kind of famous.

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Photos

The Shelby
Ignore the Italian trash in the background

Aly and the Aventador
Can you believe she didn't want to drive it?!

Getting Ready to Take Off
"Watch out for the drifter... he's crazy" - My instructor

Happy customer
Didn't crash!