Let’s get this out of the way. I’m not an adrenaline junkie.
I know what you’re thinking. What kind of person, other than someone addicted to thrill and anxiety, would willfully agree to jump into a two-seater IndyCar to speed around 1.97 miles of downtown Long Beach at about 160 mph?
Probably the sort of person who is breathlessly awaiting the latest addition to Six Flags Magic Mountain. Or maybe someone who is counting down until the next “Final Destination” installment drops.
That’s not me. I like being comfy, tucked away in a dark, cozy booth with some red wine and live jazz. Safe. Low anxiety.
But there I was on a rather blustery Tuesday morning, April 1, my meticulously planned outfit hidden under an oversized blue fire suit, some large gloves, a balaclava (this goes over your head and under the helmet) and a rather heavy helmet.
Securely strapped into the back of racer Gabby Chaves’ blue and white open-wheel car, I barely had time to think that maybe I should be a little more concerned for my life and maybe that’s something I should bring up with a therapist and maybe I should get one of those — before a hand slammed my visor shut and the car leapt forward.
There went the Pike Ferris wheel, then the aquarium’s dolphin fountain and the high-rise apartment buildings towering over Ocean Boulevard.
It was April 1, but it was no joke — the rather recently erected concrete barriers we were careening dangerously close to and our car’s high-pitched crackles and vrooms were signaling the start of this year’s Acura Grand Prix of Long Beach.
And I was getting a front row seat — fine, technically it was the second row — of how the drivers get to view the city.
It was quite honestly one of the best experiences of my life.
So here’s the thing. I don’t crave adrenaline rushes. But I love sports — and particularly, motorsports.
Racing “is definitely one of the sports that requires a lot more uninterrupted focus and concentration because … you’re going 180 mph next to concrete walls,” Chaves told me, after I had jumped out of the car, a move that, after tripping over the legs of my oversized blue firesuit, was a lot less graceful than, say, when Lewis Hamilton does it in Formula 1.
I admittedly came into my motorsports fandom a bit later. It was something to tether my partner, Josh, and me during the year we were in a long-distance relationship, both of us trying to navigate time zones and demanding jobs.
He talked me into it, putting on a Formula 1 race one night. I don’t remember all the details, but I’m sure I did without any complaints whatsoever.
I was immediately hooked.
The lights! The fashion! The drama! The cars! The speed!
The courses — particularly the street courses!
It didn’t take long — or even any convincing — for me to agree to start watching IndyCar and head to my first Grand Prix of Long Beach in 2022, on a weekend that happened to be one when I was already in L.A. from Missouri.
Long Beach is where I first heard vrooms reverberating around a city.
Where I watched Josef Newgarden nab his first Long Beach victory.
Where I pledged my undying allegiance to a team that would dictate whether I’d be elated or apoplectic during the IndyCar season. (That team will remain unnamed for journalistic integrity … for those of you who didn’t see me bounding around last year’s Grand Prix decked out in papaya.)
The Grand Prix of Long Beach is a street course, meaning the drivers navigate at blindingly high speeds on roads (or at least parts of roads) that Long Beach residents may otherwise get to traverse on any given normal day. Racers get to ignore traffic lights and stop signs and sometimes even one-way signs — but they also have to hurdle around tight corners and temporary barriers on a circuit that isn’t permanent, meaning they can’t just head out on it to practice whenever they want.
“Racing is a bit special in the way that it’s not something that you could just go home and practice five days a week, right? It requires a lot of supplemental training,” Chaves, 31, said, pointing to specific gym workouts and trainings on simulators. “You can’t just jump in one of these (cars) every day and work out the muscle groups that you’re going to be using.”
That only proves that it’s an incredible talent these drivers have, one that I could only be reminded of as I sat behind Chaves and took it all in, trying not to bounce my helmeted head too much around the car and efforting to communicate via telepathy that I won’t tattle if he wants to “accidentally” miss the turn off to deposit me safely back with the IndyCar Experience folks and instead take another lap. Or two.
Chaves, the 2014 Indy Lights champion, is an incredible driver. Could work on his mind-reading skills a bit, though.
Maybe it’s a little odd that I put so much trust into a stranger on a random Tuesday morning.
But what is being a sports fan if not oddly placing blind loyalty into people you probably haven’t met before?
And that’s what I was Tuesday. Yes, I’m a journalist who was privileged enough to take a hot lap on the Grand Prix’s day for media. (For those of you who don’t know me, hi! I’m the politics editor for the Orange County Register, who also authors a series about women in motorsports during the Grand Prix of Long Beach.)
But for a moment, going around the first turn, I had forgotten that I had taken what I now realize is a painstakingly slow A Line Metro train to Long Beach for “work” earlier that day. I was just a fan, just a girl who has, over recent years, become utterly in love with the world of motorsports.
So what was it like to take a 160 mph jaunt around the Grand Prix of Long Beach circuit?
I’d say fast, but you guys already know that. Exhilarating. Thrilling. Addictive.
That’s a lot of synonyms, but what I actually shouted out — when we did careen to a stop and whoever was tasked with untangling me from all the seatbelts asked me how the ride was — is probably not appropriate for print.
Jokes aside, Tuesday’s ride only underscored my love — and appreciation for — the sport. And I’m just all the more excited to watch the professionals go even faster during race weekend, April 11-13.
Fingers crossed that whoever takes the checkered flag then has a bit more of a graceful exit than I did.
In the meantime, I’ll excitedly send my partner and parents pictures from my brief stint as an IndyCar passenger princess, the latter of who will be learning about this latest work endeavor for the first time.
But maybe I’ll keep the details of the waiver of liability and assumption of risk and indemnity agreement to myself.