I had always wanted to race, but never had the opportunity until about twelve years ago, so this was the option I chose—a program for which BMW CCA had prepared me, and which would provide the structure and opportunity to have some seriously good fun.
So there we were, me and photographer Klaus Schnitzer, wandering around the north coast of Spain in a 428i Gran Coupé. Yes, that’s right—it’s the two-liter four-banger. And since the car is also available with the N55 six-cylinder three-liter turbo, you might get the same first impression: four cylinders? Eeeeew. And without a clutch pedal to boot.
“Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines!” Even before the shiver can finish its way up your spine, it begins: cacophony, dissonance. Like professional musicians tuning their instruments before the performance, 33 drivers play their blaring, puffing, snorting instruments, blasting out the clean remnants of combusted ethanol and turbocharged air.
When the rain moves into South Carolina, it really moves in. It’s not like the faint sprinkle of precipitation that I’d rather deal with, it’s what they call a gully-washer. To be phonetically correct, it’s a gurlee-weersher, but that’s not the point. Just as the Morton Salt canisters claim, when it rains, it pours.
Summer is just around the corner, and that means racing season is in full swing. I am a huge fan of racing, whether behind the wheel or in front of the TV screen. I have watched racing for a long time, but it wasn’t until recently that I fell in love with going to race tracks to watch racing in person.