The author in his 2004 BMW 330ci (Photo by Ash Daniel)
I drive a tuned and modified sports car. I have been issued more than one speeding ticket. I have strong preferences for the gas stations where I fill up, and I have worshiped the hood emblems of European automobiles since graduating from a booster seat.
In other words, I am a car enthusiast.
I also enjoy getting my hands dirty. A few years ago, a 1995 Mazda Miata I had recently purchased looked anything but intimidating under its little hood. I learned to change my own oil, and from there a chain reaction of tool buying and online tutorials has led me to tackle everything from suspension modifications to restoring a 15-year-old BMW. After a big weekend of wrenching, it often isn't until Wednesday that my hands are wholly free from embedded grease. Come to think of it, I have never stopped to ask my Museum District neighbors if they mind me noisily building an amateur race car in my apartment's parking lot, so I'll submit my little hobby as a solid case study in asking forgiveness rather than permission.
During the last few years, I have felt no small amount of distress over the advent of autonomous vehicles, and I watch with mounting dismay as the tech sphere successfully hustles to dehumanize the driver's seat.
What about those of us who enjoy driving? Can we still climb behind the wheel, or will we stand out like horseback riders amid a sea of drone-like motorized baubles propelling their charges — no doubt glued to phone screens — toward their next destinations?
Perhaps the horse can be instructional here. At the turn of the 20th century, populations were growing at such a robust pace that large cities were overwhelmed by mountains of horse manure, that difficult-to-dispose-of byproduct from the day's prevailing transportation method.
Then Henry Ford perfected the assembly line, and in just a handful of years, the age of the motorcar was in full swing and the dung question had been neatly sidestepped.
People still enjoy riding horses. Somewhat ironically, they are towed on trailers behind automobiles to equestrian clubs and farms, where these former modes of transportation are now a form of recreation.
History repeats itself.
About a 45-minute drive north of Richmond, Dominion Raceway has launched its Drivers Club, “a private membership club for owners of sports cars, high-performance cars and race cars.”
With mounting excitement, I reached out to Jim Lorimer, director of the club near Thornburg, and he invited me to visit earlier this month to see the 2-mile circuit for myself and meet some of the other members.
Lorimer is affable, fit and has the admirable coat of tan one sees upon those immersed in outdoor lifestyles.
“The Drivers Club is very much like a golf club business model,” he says. “Members pay initiation fees and annual dues to help offset the costs of building and maintaining the facility, and ‘greens’ fees to cover the cost of running the facility.”
Founded in July 2016, the Drivers Club has more than 70 active members. Initiation fees start at $5,600 for a 20-year term, with annual dues ranging from $1,200 to $1,920. A full day of private track time costs members $100, with an option to bring guests.
When I ask Lorimer about the future for car enthusiasts, he says, “The day may come when the only way to have some fun driving a car is to belong to some sort of drivers club facility. While I hope that never happens, I’m at least happy that I will have access to a track if it does.”
Dominion Raceway Drivers Club member Rich Schoeneborn's ride is a twin-turbo Porsche 911 with a serious spoiler. (Photo by Ash Daniel)
In front of the three-story Drivers Club headquarters, a muscular maroon Corvette Z06 mugs menacingly behind a sleek white Alfa Romeo 4C with scandalously curvaceous fenders.
These are no garage queens. They are here to be driven.
So, too, is my 2004 BMW 330ci.
After donning a full-face helmet, I enter the pit lane, where a course marshal in a yellow fireproof suit waves me onto the course. An instructor is sitting shotgun for my morning run to give guidance on driving techniques and track safety.
Dominion Raceway has subtle banking to enhance its 12 twists and turns, and I spend my first few laps learning which driving lines allow the best use of this feature. There is a lot to process, and it's like drinking from a fire hose trying to remember where to place my car, when to shift, how hard to brake, when to hit the gas — and when to look for the checkered finish flag.
I return to the paddock after my session with the unmistakable aroma of hot rubber wafting from my wheels. My shirt is damp with sweat. I am full of adrenaline, yet beatifically calm. There simply wasn't time out there to think about anything other than my relationship with the machine.
After lunch at the clubhouse, I'm behind the wheel again, and on the front straightaway, I easily exceed 110 mph in fourth gear before braking hard and bending into the apex of the first turn. I’m suspended in my driver's seat, and physics are blissfully working in my favor. The car is a long-beached fish returning to the sea; it glides over the asphalt with complete assurance and ease. I give it more throttle, and my little BMW is delighted to arc into the next straightaway, eager for the next input. Somewhere in Bavaria, a German engineer is beaming.
After Lorimer leaves to attend an exotic car show in the D.C. area, I seek out other club members for their thoughts on performance driving.
“The speed will come. Get smooth out there, and it will come. This is a very safe environment to learn,” says club member Rich Schoeneborn, here from Annapolis, standing next to his burgundy twin-turbo Porsche 911. He got hooked on track driving well over a decade ago. “You can't do this on the street and stay out of jail,” he says jokingly.
Horses aren't ideal for daily transportation, and, it might be argued, neither are sports cars. After my day at the track, the left lane of Interstate 95 feels like the doldrums. The question now is not whether the robots will take over, but when am I going to get back to the racetrack?
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