Ladies, we need to have a candid conversation about speed. Recently my husband and I took a three day trip to Las Vegas and I decided to take complete control of the itinerary. We had fabulous meals, golfed, shopped and drove race cars at the Las Vegas Speedway.
I utilized the hotel concierge as well as American Express’ travel service to plan everything and for the racing I called the folks at Dream Racing directly. I made the reservation with an operator who didn’t appear to be very familar with driving, but that wasn’t her job. Her job was to take reservations. We discussed different packages and I went ahead and reserved two Lamborghini Gallardos for my husband and I to drive on the track. Neither of us had driven a Lamborghini before and since ownership of a supercar doesn’t happen for most of the free world this seemed like the perfect splurge. Also we could upgrade to race cars when we got there if we wanted.
We wanted. We upgraded. It was a mistake. Not a huge mistake, but it was a $540 expense that we could have skipped and no matter how many times I tell you that you can skip it too, you won’t because race cars are the Sirens of the automotive world and you will spend the extra money and you won’t care because it’s your vacation and it’s your racing fantasy.
When you decide that Dream Racing is going to be part of your Las Vegas Vacation there is an optional shuttle that picks you up inside the shops at Crystals at City Center. There’s a big red Ferrari on display, you can’t miss it. Someone will check you in, make sure you have your driver’s license on you and then a driver will shuttle you there in a well maintained, impeccably cleaned van. My experience beginning at check in was that everyone spoke to my husband and then as an aside asked if I would be driving too. Uniformly they were stunned when I said yes and congratulated me on my decision to drive. The shuttle driver was 18 and beginning his career. I wanted to send him to his room without supper. I was wrong.
Upon our arrival at the track while wearing the identical red wristband as my husband no one offered me a helmet. The assumption was that only my husband would be driving. As I grew more and more annoyed with the entire crew at Dream Racing my husband pulled me aside and said, “It’s not their fault. Look around.”
When I looked around the track I saw ten women. None of them were driving. They were there to watch their husbands. I will never understand this behavior.
Ladies, you’re missing all the fun! Even if you think you don’t want to drive go sit for a drift in the M3. It’s no M6 drift but the drivers on staff at Dream Racing are excellent.
We were there on a day when the inside track was in use, which I think was pretty lucky. We used the outside track, which is a little longer and curvier and instead of practicing on a simulator a driver took us around the track as a group in a minivan. A Toyota minivan to be precise.
Being a woman was beneficial as I scored the front passenger seat so please know that I’m perfectly willing to play both sides of the fence here at Hypocrisy ‘R’ Us. I was flung around that swagger wagon at 90 mph (145 kph) while a professional driver relaxed and explained to us how to attack the track.
I’ve driven dozens of cars on wet and dry tracks from midsize sedans to the Porsche GT3 in Fontana. I’ve had a bit of instruction and I likely know just enough to be dangerous. My track driving is like my golf game, slightly better than novice but wildly enthusiastic. It’s probably similar to yours.
This is where I let you in on a secret. Unless you’ve had driving instruction and time on the track upgrading from a supercar to a race car at Dream Racing won’t get you much more than a cute outfit and bragging rights.
This is my husband’s top speed
This is my top speed
Do you remember when I mentioned that the pro driver took us around the track at 90 miles an hour in a Toyota Minivan? Without a level of expertise it’s not about the car, it’s about the driver. It’s still a thrill to drive on a track but I could have hit the same speeds in a Corvette or a Porsche, or I could have finally driven a Lambo. One day I will.
In the interim we had a blast and I’m counting on you women to join me at the track so that I’m not the only one out there. You’re missing out on the thrills.