Moms back on track

Contest winners return to Mosport racing school after lightning shortens their first visit last month

Jul 28, 2007

Special to the Star

When the winners of the Toronto Star Mother's Day contest arrived for their day of Bridgestone Formula 2000 Racing School at Mosport in June, thunder and lightning kept forcing the cars into pit row.

This is no lightweight carnival ride. You first spend a couple of rigorous hours in a classroom with lead instructor Don Meskis manically drawing symbols on a dry erase board, indicating the track, the corners, the race cars, the pace cars and the punishment for taking your car off-road. You're taught how to balance your car, when to shift, how to approach a corner, and which lines to follow so you don't spin out.

High school physics flashed through my head, and I finally had my answer to "When are we ever going to need this stuff?"

But then the dangerous lightning came, and I and my sad fellow moms (along with their almost entirely male guests) had to trundle home early, eager appetites whetted and the track simply wet.

But last week, on a glorious summer day, we're back for a second try. Four of the original six winners get a brief recap, hop in our cars and tear up the track. Some of us tear up a little more than track, although I protest that the grass in my tires must have already been there.

A funny thing had happened in the ensuing weeks. Initially, all of us offered ourselves up for the "less aggressive" session (everyone except Carol Hedenberg, 60, a grandmother of two who was strictly there to kick some Formula butt). But the second time around? The glint in these ladies' eyes is a little more menacing.

Diane Pickett, 47, a mild-mannered marketing manager from Toronto, had originally brought her Uncle John. When he can't make the return visit, she happily texts him that she is there, and the weather is fabulous. Sorry, John.

Nancy Straatsma, 40, and her husband Roland leave their kids camping with grandma and grandpa, and drive hours from their vacation to be here. They were former street sport bike instructors, so we all know these are the two to watch – along with Hedenberg, who keeps asking questions like when could she "break out of the pack."

Race ready Carol Painter, 45, from Ajax brings her father, Ted Wilson, 65. Ted sits behind me in the recap classroom session, and I can practically hear him tapping his feet in anticipation.

The Bridgestone facility is sort of like a spa – if a spa had race cars and mechanics and instructors. You are pampered like a star, with a staff-to-client ratio that feels like 50-to-one. They serve you a fabulous lunch, and the gear you borrow is well maintained. We are all strutting around like we always wear quilted jumpsuits rakishly draped from our hips.

Everywhere you turn, there is someone to answer absolutely any question. And I ask a lot of stupid questions. Meskis and fellow instructor Kris Carter seem to be everywhere at once.

There is an army of mechanics to tuck you into your car, which turns out to be a pretty intimate thing. The cars are a tight fit, and the harnesses, which come between your legs, over your shoulders and around your waist, must be custom adjusted for each driver.

I look around for Aaron, who had been my mechanic on the previous visit. Call me strange, but once a guy has adjusted my straps, I insist on a second date.

The mechanics get you started, and they don't yell at you when you stall. Even twice.

Once on the race track, a funny thing happens. Hedenberg's husband, Bob, 61, decides he is Mario Andretti. Actually, we all do.

It's difficult to gauge how fast you're going, because you're supposed to keep an eye on the tach, the oil gauge, the Chrysler Crossfire the instructors lead the laps with, which gear you're in, orange traffic cones and, of course, the track. The instructors use the indicators on the Crossfires to tell you things like when to change lead cars, when to slow down, and other rules I also forget. I just decide I am going screamingly fast, and am certain I will set a track record.

Meskis and Carter say that the day is perfect, not too hot. They say you can sweat out five or 10 pounds when it's a really hot day. Five female heads snap around, as we ponder why this isn't a highlighted selling feature in the promotional brochures.

Four sessions over a two-hour period is exhilarating and exhausting. But the final treat for all of us is the Crossfire Thrill Lap.

There are three cars, and you ride for a lap with an instructor. I consider passing on it, until I see Nancy Straatsma emerge with her long hair practically standing up. It wasn't taking them very long at all to get back from a mile-long loop around the hairpin turn-loaded track. Under a minute, in fact.

I hop into instructor Steve Langford's Crossfire, chatting away. We sit at the start and, all of sudden, G forces toss me back. How Langford manages to keep up a running commentary as he is driving, I will never know. I can barely breathe.

With everyone's adrenaline maxing out, we head in for lunch. That last lap is a fabulous way to end the session. It's terrifying, exciting and has an "I-can't-do-that, now-do-it-again" quality to it.

Roland Straatsma gets the Best Driver Award, and Carol Hedenberg gets Most Improved. They do put consideration into these designations. How do I know this? I get Driver Least Likely To Race For A Living.

Toronto Star