Act Two:
We get our scores and go into the second maneuver according to our rankings. The order is: Stina, Courtney, then myself (yay, I'm not last!), Elizabeth and Eri. The second, more complex task is a right turn into a left-sweeping drift that sounds exponentially more difficult than the donut. Adding to the tricky factor is the replacement set of Falkens, which were under-inflated compared to the grip-breaking first set. I never thought I'd yearn for more tricks named after pastries.
Stina starts first, again impressing us all with her skills; it's like Swedes are born with fair skin, blonde hair and the ability to drift. After some initial hesitation on the entry speed, Courtney manages to get her speed up and squeal the tires into a small drift, leading up to my conversation with Verena.
"Gas, e-brake, steer in, throttle. Got it." I utter her instructions out loud before I accelerate down the short straight and turn past the last cone.
"Now!" screams Verena.
I let go of the gas, immediately yank the e-brake and buff the steering wheel counter clockwise in a wax-off fashion like the Karate Kid on crack. What's that? Am I weezing? No time to concern myself with trifling things like health; I'm about to drift, baby. The car jerks to the left from my violent actions. As I slam on the throttle, I hear it: the unmistakable faint squealing of vulcanized rubber pushing the physical limits of traction. Oh. My. God. I'm drifting. Takumi, eat your tofu-eating heart out!
I keep throttling, waiting for the back end of the FR machine to dramatically slide out, with tires screaming and smoke pluming like Nob Taniguchi sliding his S15. But nothing happens. No screaming, no pluming. Only squeals. Waning squeals. I floor the gas. Squeal, damn you squeal! Instead, the screeching fades and is replaced by the strange shudder of what sounds like my front wheels about to rip off.
Confused, I look to Verena and ask, "What is that? Am I drifting?"
After what seems like an eternity, she responds: "Uh, no. That would be understeer."
D'oh!
The rest of my feeble attempts? Well, let's just say if understeer ever passed for drifting, I'd win Formula D.
Elizabeth zooms down the track after me, with the group's fastest entry speed, and goes for a switchback feint move, pulling off a small drift. She's Terry's favorite as far as the "spirit of drift." Eri is up last and despite a few stalls, manages to pull the most amazing run after a coaching session at the far end of the track. Suspicious? Maybe. Funny? Hell yes! If there was a "Spirit of the Event" award, the Ross Petty and Eri Moriyama team would win it.
And that was what this was all about: to learn the fundamentals of drift, but more importantly, have fun. I mean, it's not like we were handing out trophies or anything. 'Cause if it was for real,
I would've totally tried hard and like, won it or something. Understeer? P'shaw! I was only sandbagging to let the girls feel really good about themselves. I swear!
"Mr. Coat-check? Yeah, uh, I misplaced my ticket, but I'm looking for a pair of misplaced testicles..."
By Carter Jung
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