Ah yes, the world of racing. No where else can you ruin your hearing, drink copious amounts of alcohol and experience non-stop action for 10 hours straight. Petit Lemans© at Michelin Raceway© Road Atlanta© closes out the IMSA schedule on a fast flowing and hilly circuit deep in the backwoods of Georgia (aka, an hour outside of Atlanta). Get your glutes ready, we’re walkin!

There are many ways to do IMSA racing. Some people like to show up early, do grid walk, get an actually decent spot to start the race from, and generally stay to watch a good chunk of it. Others, for some god forsaken reason, will show up 6 hours into a 10 hour race, dick around for 3 hours, then dip right before the end because our tummies made the rumblies, all after driving through the night in a cramped track car that fits two but carries three. All are technically valid methods of enjoying the sport, however you can watch racing without as much masochism.

I, however, was not aware of this fact.

So what’s a bumbling idiot to do? What’s the plan when you hobble out of the back seat of Z28, eyes bagged, spine contorted, and many plans aborted?

Step 0: Lose your friend to the bathroom then explain to your father how “telling RLL that you interned for BMW M isn’t going to get you backstage passes”

Uh…. oh hey look it’s @justinpierce1006 !

Step 1 : Miss the swag

The second best thing about these races, is plundering manufacture display booths for all the free shit. Sure, these are the same cheap ass T-shirts you’ve picked up from every other race for the past five years, but you know that void in you won’t be satiated unless yet another grey XL Chevy Motorsports shirt takes up residence in your girlfriend’s closet. Anyways, we showed up so late that most stalls were deserted. So I did not get to spin Toyota’s wheel of marketing bullshit, and boy do I feel empty.

Step 2: Look at goofy ass road car displays instead of actually watching the damn race WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WIT-

Look, there ain’t nothing better than playing a game of “rate the shifter” with a buncha display cars. You know the Integra Type S is gonna win every year, but ya just gotta make sure that they haven’t faltered yet. And Cadillac usually makes the mistake of letting us assholes sit inside Blackwings, which is enough leagues above my meager researcher salary that, well, ya know these buns be made for sitting.

But outside of looking at cars these OEM’s are trying to sell you on, see BMW casually park an M3 ALMS car behind their tent, and seeing Ford parade around the GT MKIV like the worst case of automotive Stockholm Syndrome you’ve ever seen, there is one thing that rises above the rest. Behold, consumer, the show cars:

A lot of manufactures in GTP will roll out some abomination like this. The BMW one isn’t real in the slightest, hell the brake disks are plastic. And then there’s Acura, who just said “fuck it”, and stuck the front and rear of their car onto a European LMP2 car from god knows where and called it a day. And then there’s Lexus!

Oh god, my eyes. Ladies and gents, to truly be baller, you gotta thing big. House real big, car real big, fuck it BEDAZZLE MA WHIP FUCKA.

Step 4: Maybe watch some racing? (or get sidetracked by another Ford I guess idk anymore)

Oh yeah, we’re at a damn race track, so, straight to the esses to watch people drive, and lose two people to the FORD MUSTANG CORRALLLLLLL BAYYYYYYBEEEEEEE.

Step 5: Stumble through the woods and get those steps in

This is an integral part of the Road Atlanta experience. The first time I went, a buddy of mine fell into the creek (the beer was ok tho).

Step 6: SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

And finally we get to the shit we came for, hobbling out from the woods and having trampled through some fsae team’s campsite, we schlep out to a good vantage point and sit. And wait.

And watch:

And this, fellow consumers, is indeed of the views of all time. When you can grab a spot and see all the way through the Esses and back on up, watching some damn good racing unfold for the next, say half hour? But let’s not think about that, just behold ya fucks:

Step 7: Beholding:

Step 8: Your ruined attention span means we gotta keep on moving

Aaaannnnd hey look, a Clemson buddy! Better go add him to the group! Oh the bicycle? Ah don’t worry about it, he will figure it out. So where to next? Like any good race track, it’s about time to start ping ponging from point to point. Oh and look , a 1 series hatch! Wait a 1 series hatch? In the U.S. OF A? The hell?

Step 9: Start Walkin

The long and arduous journey alllllll the way down to turn 6 and 7 begins. It’s a little more than half a mile, but with all the ups and downs the trek feels more like 2 or 3. Or maybe I’m just out of shape. Either way, there’s nothing like strutting past rows of interesting cars, excited race fans and Porsche’s flying by doing 140. Being surrounded by so much CAR really gets the blood pumping, and I guarantee every single person in attendance left that night with nothing but racecars on the mind.

Step 10: Back into the Woods

What’s a good racetrack without some possible trespassing grey areas? The goal of every idiot under the age of 26 at Road Atlanta, at some point, was to get as close to the track as humanly possible. I believe we managed to accomplish that goal.

Coming down the hill at VMax deeeeeeep into the largest braking zone on the track, sits an old billboard. Behind that old billboard, sat us.

This was by far the best moment all day. Surrounded by your closest friends, in awe as an endless amount of the fastest 4-wheeled vehicles on earth (exaggeration) fly past doing mach 10, mere feet away. With faces against the lackluster chain-link fence, we were on top of the world.

Step 11: HOLY SHIT MY STOMACH

Bodily functions take over, the stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten in what feels like years, and all the track food is closed as of 15 minutes ago. Welp, it was fun while it lasted. There’s nothing else like a sportscar race, with endless amounts of exploring and sightseeing to do at a track that holds decades of racing history, fast cars and an electric atmosphere. I don’t think I saw a single bored race fan© over the many, many hours spent fucking around, and I’m not surprised in the least.

Rounding the night off, we spent all dinner regaling and reminiscing at the day we had, rewatching videos, checking race results and just enjoying the end of an amazing day. Who could ask for more.