It was more than perfect for learning how to hoon the living shit out of my Baja.
Left foot brake into these turns
Tuerck takes the wheel first and discovers that the car had a problem: there is absolutely no grip. When I bought my Baja, it came with a set of 'nearly new' truck tires on the front and when you turn into a corner, they don't really do anything.
This is where rally school training comes in handy - Tuerck is bouncing downhill from the house and we're looking at the first left had turn. He brakes with his left foot, covering the gas with his right. As he's braking, he's turning in, and all of the weight of the car is being pressed to the front. The rear goes light and it slides out.
Mash the gas
All this left-foot braking means his right foot is right where it needs to be and he can gas it out of the turn.
Countersteer
He's steering with his eyes - as the car starts to slide, we're going left but the rear is sliding faster than the front. He's still looking up at the exit of the turn and steering towards it.
The wheel is aiming to the right, and as the back of the car evens out to the same angle as the front, he's dialing the steering back to the left to match.
It's hard to emphasize how fucking easy it looks. We pull up back to the house and swap seats. I'm feeling confident. I mean, how hard can it be?
Apologize for everything you've crashed into/run over/destroyed
I bounce down the road just like Tuerck. I brake with my left foot just like Tuerck. I'm ready to countersteer and gas it out of the turn just like him, too.
Hold on.
Wait.
Fuck.
We're sliding with way too much speed. We're completely off the dirt and are bouncing through the tall grass as high as the fenders. I'm countersteering as much as I can. We shoot across the road and now we're sliding through the grass on the other side.
Don't flip. Don't flip. Don't flip.
Tuerck laughs. He used to ride motocross, he'd told me earlier. When you crash on a bike, you're exposed directly to the ground. When he's in a car, he's surrounded a safety cage of steel. When he thinks about the comparison, being in a sliding car doesn't really scare him. I'm thinking he's missing the part of his brain that recognizes what fear is.
I would like to say that this all only happens once. I would like to say that after my first off, I got the hang of sliding my Baja Bug, and every slide was graceful, broad, and excellent.
This was not the case. Skidding off the road is the course of the day for the next few runs up and down the driveway. Over the course of the day there are two very distinct moments where I am convinced I am about to flip the car. I do not like the idea of killing Ryan Tuerck.
Tuerck is telling me not to just go into the turn and expect to figure everything out in the middle of the corner. I start to plan. I'm thinking a step ahead of the car. Eventually the braking, gas, and steering get intuitive. I'm expecting the slide as I'm left-foot braking, I'm countersteering and hearing rocks ping off the bottom of the car, and I'm feeling the g-forces as I'm gassing out. I only get the 'whoa, I'm drifting, this is awesome' feeling when I'm out of the corner.
Stop before you kill yourself
On any good day of hoonage, you will say to yourself, 'those last turns were great, but I think I could go back for one more run.'
Do not listen to this voice. Never go back for one more run.
The 'one more run' is the one that always ends in you smashing into a tree, or a boulder, or a house, or another car, or your idiot friend who decided to get that one step closer to the road for the ultimate shot. My Baja is getting hot, there are smoothies waiting for us in the kitchen, the two farm dogs outside. It's time to call it a day.
The five or six hour drive home isn't nearly as bad as the ride up to New Hampshire. This time I believe in the car. I know it can go the distance.
And what about you? What about you idiots out there who bought Craigslist classics itching to go sideways and catch air on the weekend? Just remember to stay off of public roads, ideally on some big dirt patch where people won't get pissed, and practice your left-foot braking.
I would recommend moving to New Hampshire and buying a Baja, while you're at it, but hey, that's just me.
Photo Credits: Raphael Orlove
How To Hoon Your Old $1,500 Piece Of Shit Car