The world was his drift pad

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DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

Every year about this time I wax nostalgic about my upbringing in the great state of Indiana. And why do I go through this exercise? I don’t know. Actually I’m just making this up because I thought it would create a good lead. However, there is a point to this story.


I go to a lot of automotive press events and I recently attended one where the manufacturer had an area set aside to test a vehicle’s prowess in “drifting,” a process where cars glide, turn circles, run backwards and display other tricks to highlight its nimbleness.

As I was watching a professional driver perform his magic with a 4,000-pound car instead of a magic wand I got to thinking about a guy I used to go to high school with. His first name was “John” so
I’ll refer to him as…”John.” His entire reason for living was to find a large lot he could do “donuts” on.

The winter was his best time of the year because we lived in the Porter County Snowbelt where we’d get lake-effect snow by the foot while Chicago was in the midst of a sunny, winter’s day. Consequently, some of the larger lots like those at grocery stores, factory employee parking lots or even wide, less-traveled highways would be his “turf.”

We used to hang out a lot and drive places together and sometimes we’d be rolling along and out of nowhere he’d say, “Jeez, Al, look at that!” And what was he looking at? The Miller’s Market parking lot about 10 p.m., completely empty and covered wi
th snow. He turned so fast into that area that he almost slid into the store itself.

For the next 10 minutes or so he went round and round, laughing his ass off like some addle-brained circus clown, totally in his element. In the meantime, I’m getting more nauseous by the minute and not only didn’t we have seat belts in those days, we also didn’t have grip bars above the door. I was thrown around inside that car like a B-17 fighting turbulence and flak on its way to Berlin in 1944.

John’s circular world wasn’t just practiced during the winter. We’d often get very heavy rainstorms in that part of the state so finding a slick parking lot was equally satisfying to him. Imagine John’s joy if he were like that today when even more slick maneuvers can be done on totally dry pavement (providing you can continuously afford new sets of tires). I’ve watched some stunt drivers take these basically stock manufacturer’s vehicles and just like threading a needle, they’d pirouette around other obstacles in the arena, like cars, barrels, support poles, etc.

“In the day” we had cars that had wheel hop so bad that it was like riding on a teeter tauter. Plus, it’s a wonder the tires didn’t blow up on us because they were certainly far from tubeless and self-sealing. Same with steering. And as for transmissions? That’s one reason my family’s junkyards were so profitable; the transmissions didn’t last!

I’ve often said that I feel sorry for modern-day kids because all the relative innocence of my youth is basically gone. Even with all the technology. Just because innovations make life easier it often doesn’t make them more fun. I wouldn’t trade my upbringing if I had the money or the experiences that Donald Trump’s kids had.

Getting back to John; you’re probably wondering, if I were so prone to motion sickness, why did I spend so much time with him. It’s a three-word answer; his sister, Pat.