I don’t rank my adventures because of (1) recency bias and (2) the unique diversity of what interests me. I prefer cold over hot, fast over slow, and rare over cliche. And this adventure checked all of those boxes. Putting an all-wheel-drive Subaru in track mode and seeing what you can do with it on a frozen lake uniquely combined elements of past adventures. It was a Sunday, and I was in heaven.
Yes, I’m smiling while sliding sideways. Somehow, despite five years of anticipation for this class, the experience surpassed my expectations. I couldn’t wipe the joy off my face—not that I was trying.
This was Ice Driving USA’s first year back in session since COVID. With a short marketing runway this season, they are looking to include more students in subsequent winters. They have all-female and multi-day class options. If you’d like a unique adventure with uniquely-cool people, their courses are worth saving up to take.
I grew up about 40 minutes from what would become Pastranaland. Travis Pastrana has been my favorite action sports athlete for decades. (He filmed a gymkhana scene at the rural airport where I’ve taken sisters and church friends hang gliding.) Travis’ 11-year-old daughter had taken this course the weekend before I did, and her dad’s iconic 199 race number was still on the car when I walked up to the school. I would later learn that the last drivers in this car were other members of Pastrana’s 199 team. So, it was an extra special cherry on top to play on the ice in the 199 car.
One more blessing of my day was getting pared with Hudson, a medical student who slides his WRX around parking lots back in Cleveland. He understood the instructions better than I did and could more quickly implement the instructor’s suggestions. We alternated every 3 laps on the short courses and every 2 laps on the big course. So, when I wasn’t driving, I was getting to ride in a sports car being deftly driven by a talented driver.
Hudson was so patient with me and offered me affirmations as often as possible. There were lots of fist bumps across the front two seats throughout the day. Having someone with whom to share joy and from whom to receive perceptive advice made this experience even better.
Being a passenger was so fun! I bet at least one of my nephews would love riding in the back, if I ever do this again. Hudson and I cranked the heat (and sometimes the tunes) and kept the windows down. The instructors celebrated our vibes as a partymobile.
Between each lap on the short courses, we got insightful recommendations from our instructors. Between laps on the big course at the end of the day, we absorbed their cheering.
I was delighted by how hard we were allowed to push the cars. The chill dudes & winsome ladies teaching the course encouraged us to get everything out of the experience and didn’t waste time trying to impress us with their exploits. They didn’t have to give any credentials. We could tell their expertise was well earned. Each of our instructors brought a different vibe to the mix, but all exuded humble confidence. Back when I had my adventure podcast, I would’ve loved to interview any of those four of these badass drivers.
After our last lap of the day, the instructors asked if we’d like to ride with them for a couple hot laps. So fun! Their weight transfers and braking proved more dramatic than any I attempted all day.
I’m glad the instructors waited until after we had finished to show us what our cars could do. We didn’t time our laps or theirs, but I’d love to see how different their lap times were.
It was reassuring to know I wasn’t the only passenger in the 199 car having a good day.
Driving while smiling …
Back home in Virginia, I often take Sunday afternoon drives to cold creeks or motorcycle rides up into the mountains. That’s part of how I sabbath—how I escape stress and create some distance from my rabid insecurities. This Sunday afternoon drive did all of that and maybe more. For 6 or 7 hours, I was a race car driver. 30+ years of imagination became reality. Childhood dreams turned into high-resolution reality. I was fully alive on a frozen lake, and I returned home ready for my company’s annual spring gauntlet.
Back home in Virginia, I often take Sunday afternoon drives to cold creeks or motorcycle rides up into the mountains. That’s part of how I sabbath—how I escape stress and create some distance from my rabid insecurities. This Sunday afternoon drive did all of that and maybe more. For 6 or 7 hours, I was a race car driver. 30+ years of imagination became reality. Childhood dreams turned into high-resolution reality. I was fully alive on a frozen lake, and I returned home ready for my company’s annual spring gauntlet.
I love walking across the Tarmac to a waiting aircraft. It doesn’t matter if it’s a biplane, a glider, or a commercial jet. I’m still enamored by the concept of human flight. The richest person on the planet for millennia could never experience what annoyed commuters do by the millions each year. The most powerful kings and conquerors for centuries couldn’t command chariots or ships in the skies. Since the dawn of humanity, men, women, and children have looked to the heavens and dreamed. And we just hover our phone over a scanner and then grab our fire-breathing dragons to speed above the clouds.
I grew up on Richard Scarry books. I loved all of the details of his busy illustrations. Airports take me back to those childhood days. I could sit and watch the hustle and bustle of an airport for hours. In fact, I often do. I spend a lot of my writing and journaling hours these days at Lynchburg’s general aviation airport.
