Even when you’re not on track, motorsports should be an adventure

When the guard at the convenience store is not only wearing a bulletproof vest but also packing, you start to wonder about your choices leading up to that moment. Have you strayed into the wrong side of town? Should you be back in bed? What, exactly, am I doing here?

It was 3:15 in the morning–for me, at least, that time comes at the end of a day, not the start of one–and we were visiting the Circle K near our motel in Colorado Springs to load up on provi­sions: water, granola bars and fairly mediocre breakfast sandwiches. Call it an impulse buy, but I also grabbed a pom-pom hat embroidered with Colo­rado’s giant C logo.

Our destination: Pikes Peak for morn­ing practice.

Practice for Pikes Peak is different from, say, just about any other motors­ports event you’ve ever attended. The short version: Teams pre-run the week leading up to the event, but only a sec­tion of the course each day. And since the toll road remains open for business, everyone involved with the race has to leave the mountain by 9:00 so the paying public can take in the sights.

We arrived a little before 4:00 on that Friday morning to find dark­ness–along with a mass of cars. I saw Rupert’s Subaru WRX, so I knew we were in the right place–“we” being me, former, longtime Road & Track editor Andy Bornhop, and Miles Johnson, our chaperone from Hyundai.

Where to go? Only one way up the mountain, so we headed that way. The traffic got lighter the higher we got, but the weather didn’t: not just rain and fog but sideways rain and fog. I questioned if we should have driven past the truck that was kind of blocking the road. My travel companions made fun of me.

The two of them worked together to keep us between the white and yellow lines. Despite it being late June, we drove past snowbanks taller than a Wookiee.

Soon we arrived at our destination, the aptly named Devils Playground: about 13,000 feet up and the start for the day’s upper section practice. This is above the tree line. You can feel the altitude in your chest. My new cap represented $32.46 well spent.

We parked and listened to the wind howl past as it pushed around our Santa Fe. This was a very good idea, we told ourselves.

Around 6:00, the winds calmed. The fog eventually lifted. We watched Hyun­dai’s drivers make a single practice run.

That would be it for the day. By 9:00, the sun was out, the weather felt good. Warm sun and crisp air. Time for everyone to break camp and bug out, a mass exodus of dualies and trailers passing the arriving tourists.

We’d be back Sunday for the race–same starting time, same stop at Circle K. This time, one of the other guests wore a cloth over his face and carried a sword-like object inside his vest. Seriously.

Once at the hill, we parked at Half­way Picnic Grounds, not quite 10,000 feet up. We figured this altitude would increase the odds of good weather for the day. Remember, no other way up or down the hill, so once you’re there, you’re there.

Our neon-orange media vests allowed us access to non-spectator areas, so the eight of us–the individual groups traveling with Hyundai had linked up for the big day–hiked down to the famed Engineers Corner. We schlepped our food, water, camera gear and folding chairs. Later, we knew, we’d have to carry it all back up to the car.

We found a safe spot high above the course and deemed it perfect for the day. What we lacked in bathroom facili­ties we made up in shade and the view.

First car was released around 7:30. The entry list showed only about 60 cars. Maybe, we figured, we’d be out of here fairly early in the day.

Car trouble–a spin, a crash, a mechanical issue–stops the action. Drivers downstream of the incident are sent back for a rerun.

As noon approached, we realized we weren’t leaving by lunchtime. Later in the day, we wondered if we’d be out of there by dinnertime.

We passed the gaps in the action by sharing stories, napping in the wood chips and watching the ants. It was like camp. Adult camp.

I did my first trip to Pikes Peak back in 1996. My wife and I borrowed a new Camaro SS out of the Chevy press pool. We pitched a pop-up tent near the mountain.

Motorsports isn’t always about air conditioning, flush toilets and clearly defined schedules. It is and should be an adventure. Would I do Pikes Peak any differently next year? Nope.

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