American Muscle Car Challenge
First, I try World Class Driving’s tour, which involves cruising in a convoy from Vegas to scenic Red Rock Canyon, then driving 30 or 50 miles while trying out three or four muscle cars. My group is overwhelmingly male and includes two seniors from California State UniversityNorthridge who said they are car fanatics and lovers of the super-powered American dream machines.
“Guys love the cars, but women are our best participants, because they have no preconceived notions and they listen” to instruction better, says Darren Strahl, director of operations. One attraction of World Class Driving: You can take the wheel without an instructor by your side.
After a short classroom orientation in World Class’ Dream Garage near the Strip, we head out to the gleaming autos, where participants snap photos before adjusting mirrors and fastening seat belts. My first car is a siennacolored 2013 Dodge Challenger SRT8 392, which looks and feels heftier than I’m used to. It has an automatic transmission, but you can use paddles on the steering wheel to get the feeling of shifting gears manually.
Negotiating freeway traffic on the way to the canyon isn’t fun, but we stay in a line, using twoway radios that transmit directions from the lead instructor.
The excitement begins when we turn into Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. We’ve been warned that the speed limit is a measly 50 mph and that police are on patrol. No fun, I think, but the vistas — jagged peaks as the backdrop in a long valley where wild burros roam — are priceless.
Suddenly, the radio crackles with the terse command: “Stay with me.” The lead car takes off. My Challenger comes to life, pushing 80 easily without getting into high gear.
At the first of three stops to change cars, I find love. It comes in the form of a “Grabber Blue” 2013 Ford Mustang Shelby GT 500, a big deal among auto aficionados. And I see why. Its 662-horsepower engine purrs and roars as it effortlessly chews up the miles. It has a manual transmission, which purists prefer for fierce driving.
The Northridge stu- Feel the need for speed? Seeing how fast you can go from 0-60 in a Mustang Shelby Cobra GT500 is sure to satisfy. dents, Taylor Mesko and Eric Tice, are in heaven, as is Eric’s girlfriend, Ashley Bayer, who is riding with him. Mesko loves the powerful Shelby; Tice appreciates the little black 2013 Corvette Z06 and its supple ride.
“We weren’t even born when muscle cars were big (in the ’60s and ’70s), and now they’re back, bigger and badder,” Tice says after the drive. “It was fun to experience that generation of cars reborn.”
The experience was fantastic, Mesko says. “The scenery, and being able to drive three different cars” that the average person rarely or never can.
The next day, I’m at Las Vegas Motor Speedway, where NASCAR races are run. It’s humbling, and a bit scary, to strap on a helmet and take to the track where racing legends reach speeds of 200 mph.
This outing involves maneuvering a hot car through four tests. You can compete against fellow drivers, although I simply put cars through their paces before the attraction’s official opening.
First, you idle behind the starting line and watch a light shift from red to orange to green. That’s when you stomp on the accelerator to see how fast you can reach 60 mph. My time in the Challenger SRT8 (the same model I used at World Class Driving) is a tepid 5.6 seconds. But behind the wheel of a sassy orange Camaro ZL1 with driving-pro Mark Skinner in the passenger seat giving instruc- tions, I complete the task in a more-than-respectable 4.2 seconds.
Next up: seeing how fast you can brake to a stop from 60 mph. I do that easily, in less than 100 feet.
Rounding a banked turn and building up speed is the real test of nerve. It feels as if the car will topple over as I approach 90 mph in the curve, but Skinner swears it won’t. So I trust him and keep pushing my favorite Camaro toward the final challenge: the straightaway.
By my third go-round, with Skinner urging me to “git on it” and floor the accelerator, I’ve reached a stomach-churning 126 mph. The steering wheel is wet with my sweat.
Vroom! That’s the exhilarating moment when this biceps-lacking racetrack newbie turns into a true muscle-car aficionado.
Sorry, Mom.