THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 13, 1995 TAG: 9508100253
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 14 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JENNIFER CHRISTMAN, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 69 lines
Last week, when I was nearly sideswiped off the Bypass by a befuddled father in a minivan brimming with rambunctious youths, epiphany slapped me.
The summer traffic was making me mean.
I was sick of slamming my brakes and driving defensively. I wanted to floor the gas pedal and act reckless like Thelma and Louise before their canyon plummet.
I found a perfect channel for my aggression: go-carts.
The Outer Banks boasts several miniature tracks for go-cart racing. Go-carts come in all sizes, colors and types. Depending on where you go, you can choose from ``naz cars,'' Malibu racers, Indy racers, outlaw skid cars and mini-jeeps.
Feeling adventurous one day, my friend and I decided to try the naz cars at the Speed & Spray Action Park in Nags Head. The park operates two tracks - a 257-foot oval and a 550-foot figure-eight. Large cars cost $8 and small cars cost $6 to race for four minutes on the oval track. The figure-eight Indy track costs $7 for four minutes.
We opted for the less dizzying oval course.
``You going on the oval one? Good. We need more people,'' smirked an adolescent about 5 years my junior while cracking his knuckles.
But I wasn't nervous. After all, the signs specifically warned: NO BUMPING.
I made a beeline for car No. 25 in all its banana-peel-yellow splendor. I didn't realize it at the time, but the color was the beginning of my demise.
I also didn't realize that I was the only female racing. Within one minute, the objective became clear: ``Kill the girl!''
Once the motors began growling and the animal instincts started churning, all rules against bumping were forgotten. It was every woman - OK, me - for herself. From inside my screaming yellow car, there was nowhere to hide.
I was the second driver out on the track, and the first couple of clockwise laps were smooth. The cars only travel about 20 mph, but the rush was incredible. My stress faded with the smell of fuel and each skid around the slick concrete bends.
Crunch.
The kid who joked with me before the race was no longer joking. Behind the armor of devil-red car No. 11, the kid smacked into me from behind while his friend, who was driving the wrong way, plowed into me head-on.
``Whoops,'' said No. 11, cackling.
The metal ring around the glorified bumper car protected me from bodily dents, but each hit sent my head and neck jerking.
Tired of being Ms. Nice Guy, I decided to strike back. I zig-zagged, I swerved, I cut people off. While trailing No. 11 a few laps later, I managed to cut a corner, bang him in the side and send him spinning into the median.
``Whoops,'' I said with a smug smile.
He tried to get his revenge, but I was just too clever. I ducked into a nook by the starting point where he couldn't touch me.
But he got the last laugh.
The cars have no reverse, and I was stuck in the corner for the last half-minute.
Heart pounding, happy and a bit queasy from the excitement, I climbed out of my race car and headed back to my sedan in the parking lot.
And, you know - the Bypass looked like a cinch. ILLUSTRATION: Staff photo by DREW C. WILSON
Go-carts race around the slick track at Speed and Spray Action Park
in Nags Head, where you can floor it with glee.
by CNB