Just then Alain pulled up in Jimmy’s Ferrari and the two of them got out. Alain looked as if he’d been enjoying himself, but Jimmy looked on the verge of being sick.
“Dude, man,” Jimmy said. “That was fucking epic!”
“So now you see how fast you can go in that car of yours,” Alain explained, as if he was teaching class.
“No, that’s how fast you can go in that car,” Jimmy countered. “I’m never gonna be able to do that.”
“Eh, it comes from practice,” Alain said.
We all wandered back as a group to see if lunch was ready yet, only to find Imogen, Emmy, Jimmy’s sister, and to my surprise, Stephanie already eating.
“Hey, babe,” I said, giving Emmy a kiss.
“Hey, what about me?” Stephanie demanded, so I gave her cheek a kiss, too.
“I didn’t expect you here,” I said. “I hope it’s not too boring.”
“We watched you for a while, then came back in and we’ve just been talking,” Stephanie said.
“Mostly about your place in New York,” Imogen added. “I’ve been trying to talk James into buying a place there, you know.”
“I lay the blame for that squarely on you two,” James said, giving me and Emmy the eye, before he bent down to give Imogen a kiss.
“Wait- you guys have a place in New York, too?” asked Teddy Bear.
“Yeah, Leah just bought a Midtown townhouse,” Stephen said as we all sat down.
“It’s really nice,” said Stephanie, from down at the other end of the table. “Super classic East Coast vibe, you know?”
“You’ve been there?” Stephen asked, leaning forward to see Stephanie better.
“Yeah, a couple of months ago,” Stephanie confirmed. “My band had a couple of dates in New York, and so we stayed at Emmy and Leah’s place.”
“You’re in a band, too?” Stein asked.
“Well, no, I’m not in the band, per se,” Stephanie said. “I manage a band. Ever hear of The Prodigal Sons?”
“They have that one song that’s been getting airplay on my Pandora stream,” Teddy Bear said. “The one about fast cars and faster women?”
“Yeah, that’s been getting good traction,” Stephanie said.
“Um, do they know Leah?” Teddy Bear asked. “Because, um, she’s hella fast in that fast car of hers.”
“High school friends,” Stephanie confirmed.
“Aw, shit, seriously?” Jimmy protested. “Not only does Lizzie have the sweetest cars, the hottest wife, and houses on both coasts, she has rock songs written about her? What’s next?”
“Leah has a lot of rock songs written about her,” Emmy said.
“I’m not sure that songs written by her wife count,” Stein said. “I mean, that’s just cheating.”
The catered lunch was really good, considering we were eating in a big tent in a parking lot beside a race track in the high desert. I had the chicken cacciatore, and Emmy had the salmon. The conversation was nice and easy, too, and everybody seemed to get along just fine.
After lunch, I went out with Alain again in the coupe, lapping the track much, much faster than I had been doing in the M6 that morning. Alain’s coaching was a bit more general this time out. Instead of pointing out specific track features to use as braking markers or such, he spent his time trying to get me to see the flow of the track, to see where in the turn I should be increasing or decreasing brake pressure, easing on the accelerator or stomping it to the ground.
“The definition of a straight on a track is anywhere you can be at maximum throttle,” he said as we crested turn six. “Now, as you set up through seven and into eight, tell me- can you have your foot all the way to the floor?”
“Yeah,” I said, doing just that.
“How does it feel?” Alain asked as I hugged the inside of the long sweeper.
“Really fast,” I replied, paying attention to the track more than the conversation.
“Yes, we are going about two hundred twenty-five,” Alain said, then, after I made the frightening turn using the apex dip on nine and onto the straight, he added, “That is fast for any track. And you held the pedal down until it was time to lift for nine. Therefore, we can say that eight is actually a straight.”
By this point I was braking and downshifting into one, coming up on Jimmy’s Ferrari.
“Pass him on the outside,” Alain said. “On the left.”
I didn’t think I was going to be able to manage it, since two was a long, long turn and the inside line was just that much shorter, but I’d drawn even and maybe a little past the 458 by the time we exited and had to start thinking about three, a left turn uphill. I had the inside line, but it was a terrible one.
“Run him out,” Alain said. “He will give way.”
Feeling a tiny bit bad about shouldering Jimmy out of the way, I swept right, closing him out and forcing him to check up hard.
“That’s right,” Alain said. “Remember- the one who is in front owns the track.”
“This isn’t a race,” I objected as the car got light over the crest of four.
“All of life is a race,” Alain said. “Now, who is that in the Mercedes?” he asked, pointing up ahead at Stephen’s AMG GT. “You can take him by entering eight faster and keeping your foot on the floor. It is a straight, remember? Treat it as such.”
I did as Alain directed and passed Stephen about a third of the way around eight, off to the left, in the marbles. The tires were complaining and the car really didn’t want to hold my line, but I kept my foot down and railed it anyway.
“Stay left… Now!” Alain instructed, so I late apexed nine, getting better drive than I ever had onto the front straight. “And there it is,” Alain said, leaning back as if this was just a casual drive down the Coast Highway. “I think you have it.”
“Alain,” I asked, as we streaked up the front straight. “Have you ever driven the Nurburgring?” I kept my foot slammed to the floor until the last possible moment, then stomped the brakes, dropping to ninety for the turn. I took it a bit early and stayed next to the curbing, using the inside banking to slingshot me out.
“Very nice,” Alain said. “I assume you are asking about the Nordschleife, and not the Formula One track. Run a little wide here. Now tighten up. I’ve driven it a few times. Why?”
“I’d like to try it some day, and I’d love to have somebody talk me through it.”
“Eh, there are what they call ‘taxis’ with prepped cars and professionals who have done thousands of laps. That is the way to do it. Do not damage your own car.”
After that lap I pulled back into the pit to trade cars. First, though, I wanted a Coke and quick little bite of something, so I stepped into the hospitality tent.
“Hey, babe,” Stephanie said, looking up from her phone. “Hey, I watched you in the orange car. You were really flying out there! Is there any chance I can get a ride?”
“Um, I think we could probably find you a suit and a helmet,” I said. “But yeah, I’d love to show you a fast time.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Stephanie said with a laugh.
“Not to me,” Emmy said. “I tried riding on the track with her one time and nearly got sick. I am not made for these things.”
“You told me you like roller coasters, though?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes, but not the very biggest, fastest ones. Those are too much for me.”
“I tried riding along with James once when he was driving at Sonoma,” Imogen added. “We almost got divorced.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“You guys are doing a terrible job of talking me out of it,” Stephanie said, laughing.
“Out of what?” Stephen asked, walking in too late to hear any of the rest of the conversation.
“I’m gonna hitch a ride for a few laps with Leah,” Stephanie said.
“You’re braver than I am,” Stephen said.
“Steph, talk to the BMW crew guys about finding a racing suit and helmet. If they don’t have any, hit up the Track Club guys. I’m gonna see if I can find James, see if he wants to go out in the Nissan and play follow the leader with me in the BMW,” I said.
“I think he’s over at the Track Club pit,” Imogen volunteered.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I told Stephanie.
James was at the Track Club setup, going through the driver controls of the GT-R. Reggie was leaning in the window, explaining the various mapping setting switches when I walked up.
“James says he wants to try the car with the TC on,” Reggie said, pulling his head out of the Nissan’s window.
“Try it at five,” I said. “No, wait, dial it to seven, but show him how to adjust it so he can get a feel for the different levels,” I said. Then, leaning down to talk to James in the driver’s seat, I asked, “About ready to play follow the leader? You lead out for a couple of laps, then I’ll take over and you follow me. How does that sound?”
“I’ll be ready by the time you get the BMW rolling,” James said, a look of excitement in his eyes. “This is gonna be good!”
The BMW was waiting for me, so it only took me a moment to put on my helmet and my HANS device and climb in, checking to see that the mechanics hadn’t ‘adjusted’ my TC and ABS settings. It all looked good, so I started the GoPro, put on my gloves, and rolled out onto the pit lane, where James was waiting in the GT-R. He gave me a thumbs up, so I pulled up in front of him, waiting for the track worker to give us a green flag. A small group of cars went by- I could pick out that ridiculous wrap job on Stein’s McLaren, and the Italian red of Jimmy’s Ferrari, but the other car in the middle could have been Justin, Teddy Bear or Stephen- no way to tell.
After they passed and were well out of the way, we got the signal we could go, so I launched, James right on my rear bumper. Needless to say, I floored it, getting everything I could out of that V8’s six hundred horsepower. Compared to the Nissan, the BMW was at a weight and power disadvantage, but that’s O.K. It was still plenty fast, and now that the crew had a few sessions’ worth of data, they’d gotten the handling dialed in just right for me.
I took our first lap fairly easy so James could follow my lines, then picked it up on the next lap. Still not at full gallop, but fast enough to make the car work. James did a great job of staying on me, really only letting a gap open on eight, and then nine. Nine is unbelievably frightening, so that was understandable. The only way I could carry such speed is by completely ignoring the concrete wall to the outside of the turn, and not thinking about how the paint in the impact zone looked fresher than on the rest of the wall.
‘I guess he hasn’t gotten the memo about keeping the foot on the floor through eight,’ I thought as I slowed a bit for him to catch up on the front straight, then gassed it when the gap closed. He did a good job on one, only letting a little bit of space open between us, closing up when I took two a little easy. The rest of the lap went like that, with little gaps on the turns, but James using the accelerator well to catch up when I didn’t push it too hard on the straights.
Finally, on lap five, it seemed he’d worked up his confidence, so I let loose with a full-speed lap, starting with a full-gas drive up the front straight, which James managed to almost close by the time I stomped on the brakes for one. From that point on, I gained ground in every turn, even creeping away on eight. The front straight wasn’t long enough for James to reel me in, so I kept at it and rolled away from him, until I eased up on the straight so he could go shooting by.
I’d wondered why we hadn’t seen the other guys’ cars on the track, until I noticed quite a group of people sitting in the bleachers midway up the straight. Evidently the other guys had opted to watch instead of acting like road blocks, which was probably a good thing for everybody involved.
James dove into one, but got on the gas a bit harder and earlier than he should have, which sent him to the right side of the track earlier in two than was optimal. I stayed tight in one, using the banking on the inside of the turn to slingshot me to where I wanted, which was right on James’ ass. It’s funny- I’d never seen the GT-R this way, from the seat of another car. I’d never really appreciated how big and blocky it looked, or how aggressive. I’d always liked the green and black wrap, along with the matte black of the carbon bodywork, and following it and seeing it like that, I could really understand how intimidating that car really was. It seriously did look ready to smash everything in its path.
I was jolted out of these thoughts by James using a bit of brake on entry into eight. By that point I was used to exiting seven and being on full throttle by eight’s entry, so even the little bit of brakes that James used came as a surprise.
I stayed right on his rear bumper through eight, but he turned in for nine earlier than me. This turned out to be a good thing, since my late apex allowed me better drive up the front straight, helping to counter the GT-R’s power-to-weight advantage.
We went like that for a few more laps, then James waved me by on the straight and I resumed leading. A handful of laps later, we pulled into the pit. James jumped out of the Nissan, and had his helmet off by the time I’d gotten out of the BMW.
“That was awesome!” he said, his face lit up. “Freaking unbelievable!”
I gave him a high five, saying, “James, you are seriously starting to get your groove on!”
Glancing around, James leaned in. “Leah, if you decide to part with that GT-R, I’ll take it. I mean, if you said you'd part with it, I’d have the cash in your account so fast it’d make your head spin.”
“What would Imogen say?” I asked. “And you don’t even know how much I’d want for it.”
“She’d be fine with it, and it doesn’t matter,” James replied, as Alain walked up.
“You looked really comfortable out there,” Alain said. “Both of you.”
“I think I’ve done a bad thing,” I said to Alain. “James has decided he needs the GT-R.”
“Well, you have the BMW now,” Alain said. “You can’t drive both at the same time.”
“I know,” I said, looking over at the green monster. “I know.”
“What do you know?” asked Emmy as the rest of the group came over to see what we were talking about.
“She knows that two race cars is one too many,” James said, answering Emmy, but looking at his wife. “And her very best friend of all is more than willing to help her out with this problem.”
“You’re going to give me the GT-R after all?” asked Jimmy, acting like a surprised audience member on Oprah’s show. “You really must love me after all!”
Stein elbowed Jimmy, laughing.
“Do you really want it?” Imogen asked her husband.
“I told Leah I’d buy it in a moment if she wants to find a good home for it,” James confirmed.
“How much?” she asked.
“I don’t know what’s fair,” I admitted.
“Last year’s racers are selling at auction for around two hundred thousand Euros,” Alain said.
James gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged. “Sounds fair,” I said.
“If you want it, I say you should get it,” Imogen said.
“Deal,” James said, holding his hand out to shake.
“I’m gonna be sorry to see it go,” I said. “But at least it’s going to a good home.”
“Dude, did we just see a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar used car just get sold just like that?” Jimmy asked, snapping his fingers.
“Yeah, Jimmy, we just did,” said Teddy Bear. Then, shaking his head, “It’s a fucking different world.”
"Alright,” I said. “Now that it’s your car, James, you need to get Reggie to set it up for you. Me, I’m gonna take passengers out for a few laps in the coupe. See you out there?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a few,” he said.
“Leah, you’re going out in the street BMW?” Stein asked.
“Yeah, my friend Stephanie wants a ride,” I said.
“That means it’s safe to go back on the track,” Teddy Bear said. “Mostly.”
I left them laughing, while Stephanie, in her borrowed racing suit and with her brand new helmet, followed me back to the orange M6.
“I want you to really go,” Stephanie said, putting her helmet on. “Just as fast as you want. I want you to pass those guys hard.”
“I think I can manage that,” I said, buckling up.
“It’s too bad the race car has only one seat,” Stephanie said, wistfully. “It’d be so awesome to ride in that.”
“Don’t worry,” I said as we pulled onto the pit lane. “We’ll go plenty fast enough in this.”
Getting the green flag, I gunned it and we rocketed forward out onto the track. I took the first turn at about eighty miles per hour, well off the speed I’d been doing earlier with Alain in the car.
“Holy shit!” Stephanie exclaimed as I gave it gas on exit. “That was awesome!”
Encouraged by her enthusiasm, I picked it up a bit on the next couple of turns, Stephanie screaming with excitement like a little kid on a roller coaster.
We hit eight flat out, which worked out to be about a hundred and fifty miles an hour. Stephanie was saying, “Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod," as the tires fought the forces trying to shake them loose. As we turned through nine and onto the front straight I saw a dark-colored car up ahead. It was either Teddy Bear, Stephen or Justin- I couldn’t tell which. As the car approached one, I could see they were right behind Jimmy’s bright red 458.
“There! Get those guys!” Stephanie said, pointing at the cars up ahead on the track.
They were way ahead, so even though I was working that coupe as hard as I could it still took us almost a full lap to reel them in. It was eight that really did it- Stephen, Jimmy and Teddy Bear in front just weren’t willing to commit to the speed that I was finding on that big, big sweeper, so by the time nine came around, I was right on Stephen’s AMG.
Exiting nine onto the straight, Stephen pulled to the right so I could pass. I mean, I was gonna do it anyway, so it was really just a nice gesture on his part and it allowed me to run up on Jimmy nice and hard.
When Jimmy glanced in his rear-view and saw I was right there, he signaled over and took one wide so I could dive inside. I needed no more of an invite than that, and within moments I was doing to Teddy Bear what Alain had me do to Jimmy earlier in the day, block-passing him going into three.
“Yeah!” Stephanie shouted. “Just like that!”
Cresting four, we spotted Justin’s Audi up ahead, leaving turn five. “Get him, too!” Stephanie urged. “Get all of ‘em!”
Justin was going pretty good, but I was on him by the time we got to turn nine. His car was lighter than my BMW and had just as much power, but with his all-wheel drive he got better acceleration onto the straight than I did. I stayed on target, though, and was back on him braking for one. He tried to use his car’s advantage driving out of the corner, but my line was better and I was back on him by the apex of two. He let the throttle carry him outside on exit, but I stayed tight to the right and kept on the gas when he started braking for three, an uphill left. Realizing he couldn’t make the turn from so far to the left side of the track and I was in the way of him being able to swing right, he dropped behind me, but I had the advantage and left him behind.
“Shit!” Stephanie said. “That was intense!”
“The life of a repo man is always intense,” I said, quoting a movie we’d watched together all those years before.
Now that I had clear track I really let it fly over six and seven, foot flat on the floor into and through eight. Sure, we weren't going as fast as I had in either of the true race cars, but it felt fast enough in that street coupe.
“Waaahahahaha!” Stephanie half screamed, half laughed as the tires screeched in complaint at the G forces side-loading them to their max.
We did another couple of laps at full speed, but then Stephanie finally said, “O.K., I’ve had enough- could this be our last lap?”
After that, I mellowed out a little bit, and this allowed Justin to catch back up. When we pulled off, so did he.
“Wow,” Justin said as we all got out of our respective cars. “You really don’t fuck around, do you?”
“It’s all fun and games,” I said with a shrug.
“Until somebody gets hurt,” he replied, looking more than a little bit pissed off at my hard pass on him from a few laps before.