The fastest my body has ever gone is about 90, maybe 95 miles an hour. I’ve always owned a Jeep, which as you may or may not know, isn’t necessarily built for speed.
The one time I tried to get to 100m MPH was my senior year of high school, when responsibilities were at an all-time low and stupidity was at an all-time high.
We were on our way to Seaside Heights for Memorial Day for a weekend full of bad decisions. Ripping across the Seaside Heights bridge, listening to 6 Foot 7 Foot by Lil Wayne, my buddies thought it would be a good idea to tempt me into pushing my ol’ Jeep Liberty into the 100’s.
Naturally, I caved quite quickly.
75. Okay — I’ve been here.
80. Still in my wheelhouse. I’ve done 80 on the parkway 1000 times.
85. Okayyyy now. Getting a little wild.
Once we hit the 90’s, the steering wheel of the Jeep started to vibrate, so I taped out without ever reaching 100 MPH.
Well, folks, today was the first day in my life I’ve gone over 100 MPH, which is about half of what they do during The Great American Race. The conclusion I came to? NASCAR drivers are absolutely out of their minds.
First off, I lucked out by having what seemed to be the coolest pace driver at the track. In fact, my dude was going so hard in the paint his higher ups told him to slow it down.
All the while as I was gripping onto the seat for dear life, I was desperately trying to wrap my brain around the idea that the NASCAR drivers are not only going TWICE as fast, but doing so surrounded by dozens of other cars going at 200 MPH. I’ve had a hell of a lot of experiences in my life, but nothing quite like driving around the track at Daytona. As soon as I got out, all I wanted to do was go again, and again, and again.
Frankly, it’s insane. They’re insane. But insane in the best way possible. To sum it up simply: NASCAR drivers have bigger cajones than basically every other athlete.