Disappearing demolition driver

“Do you know Capital City Speedway? We used to go in there when I was 16 or 17. We knew the owner at the time, and his son would go with us. And we’d unlock the gates and get in, and we’d drive these old cars around and wreck them. We’d pick them up for like $20 or $25, and take it up. And we’d have our own little demolition derby. There’d be half a dozen of us in a half-dozen cars. We’d do this on the access roads behind the track, in the boneyard, they called it. And we thought, ‘This is fun, but we’re not getting up any speed.’ So we took the cars out on the track a couple of times, and it was fun, but we didn’t do any demolition. So I came up with this plan.

“As you come out of the pits, the asphalt, the cement, is divided, and there’s this V with a big row of tires. And they had this old ’55 Chev, I think, that wasn’t running, but I figured someone could push me in it and I would drive into those tires, head first. That was my plan. It sounded great.

“So I’m steering and my buddy’s pushing me, and he starts going faster and faster and faster, and I’m going, ‘No, that’s too fast, too fast.’ But he wouldn’t let up. He thought it was funny to go faster — maybe 30 or 40 mph. We’d only planned on doing 10 or 15.

“So I got in the backseat, and I’m leaning over the front seat, steering with one hand. I figure that as soon as I’m going to hit, I’ll duck in behind the seat. So I let go of the steering wheel and get down on the floor, and — kaboom! — I hit the tires and the car bounces over onto the track and spins around backwards. Everyone’s laughing, but when they look in the front of the car I’m not there. They thought I flew out. But then they hear this muffled, ‘Get me the f--- out of here.’ I’d ended up going through the backseat and into the trunk. Whatever possessed me to do that, I don’t know. I thought it would be great fun.”