How (and why) a road race oriented gear head turned to drifting

When the topic of drifting and my involvement in this branch of motorsports I am invariably met with an utterance of:

-“There’s no winner! It’s not about who was the fastest/crossed the line first?!”
- “It’s just silly power slides and wasting tires”
- “They're are so unprofessional and unsafe!”
- “it’s just figure skating with cars!” (OK, maybe this one is a little more accurate…)

The pomposity and erroneous assumptions and profiling of these comments aside (addressing all these could be a series of articles in itself…) My response apart from debunking a few has been to mention how technically complex and misunderstood the vehicles, suspension and setup are and the allure of problem solving an area of motorsports even lifetime setup and race engineers struggle to comprehend.  Though accurate and more easily understood any of these are (at most) secondary to the accurate reason and why drifting has become more than an enjoyable motorsport, but a dedicated passion. Sometimes dedicated to the point of sacrificing personally (and financially…) to chase this typically misunderstood passion.

So, what’s the REAL reason a self-proclaimed road racer and lifetime F1 and open wheeled fan would devote themselves to “figure skating with cars”?  The short answer: a promise, a lot of guilt, and dedication to a community that can single handedly by credited with getting me through some of the most difficult time(s) of my life

Over-dramatic? While drifting can sometimes be a dramatic (and opinionated) sport and community, if anything this is an understatement. I am engineer, tuner, and numbers/data driven individual so the ability to sufficiently use language and convey the emotional and cognitive impact of life altering events is far beyond me. However I would posit that even among the scholarly authors, there are few that could impart the feeling of emotional upheaval created by specific experiences, and even then only though by creating a situation and story to stir those reaction in the reader rather than direct literary explanation.

I’ll skip trying and cut straight to the most succinct summarization I can:  The phrase “time heals all wounds” is pure, unequivocal and total BULLSHIT. It’s comforting, it’s sometimes a way of coping and it sounds… nice…. But mostly it’s an empty phrase repeated when people don’t know what else to say.  Being a situation where words fail to even describe it… I understand… but it’s still bullshit. Time, at best, creates scars. And some scars always hurt, can often tear and are a reminder of the events that created them (and can often be as painful or more than the actual event).

So how exactly does ANY of these verbose rambling get us to drifting? Because while it doesn’t heal it, drifting has been the salve to at lease create scars from my wounds and a medicine at times when nothing else was there. Also, I made a promise, and more importantly feel I owe a debt that can never be repaid.

I was just over a year from unexpectedly losing my father (just a few months after getting married), I had just left my job as an engine development engineer to run a tuning and performance business, and in general a bit of a mess and figuring out a lot as we went. But I had (and still have) an amazing wife, surrounded by a group of motorsports oriented friends, many of which I had known since college and had all transplanted to the mid-west at the same time. I was being challenged mentally and technically and enjoyed the challenge. There was even this newer venture and started hanging out with a few people involved in local drifting, a lot of which surrounded one of the college friend transplants, Anton, and just going to the track and driving just for the sake of driving and enjoying cars.

On March 22^nd, Anton called asking if I was up to anything and wanted to stop by.  We has been discussing helping out with the local Pro-Am series to setup cars and offer technical services, and our conversations that day were much the same. We (and possibly with a little irresponsible drifting…) took my underpowered Miata around the area visiting some mutual friends and helping with a few garage projects – but mostly just enjoying being “car people.” When Anton left that night just before dinner I joked “yeah, maybe we’ll actually be able to trick some of these drift guys into thinking we know what we’re doing!”

I swear.... we knew what we were doing!

It was a joke that would be the last words I ever said to Anton (and possibly the last anyone spoke to him).  Later that evening I had a worrying nag in my head I couldn’t shake and questioned a few things…. Because Anton had struggled with mental health and had a past with attempts to take his own life.  We had become his support structure (and more than willingly so).  I was concerned and questioned everything about that day – but convinced myself it was good he called, that he came over and we were able to spend time with him and just enjoy things for the sake of enjoying them and went to bed convincing myself it was all good, sending Anton a message right before heading to bed.

The next morning I got a call from my wife telling me Anton hadn’t come to work (they worked in the same group and sat near each other). She asked me to check on him and arranged to get me keys to his apartment. Words once again fail here and I could never convey the thoughts, emotions and even order of the events that followed. What I could tell you is every detail of the room, the tactile inputs, smell and physical detail of the exact moment you realize you aren’t trying to get one of your best friends down and save them but instead were too late, and are now holding their body.  Certain things leave an imprint…

Emotional upheaval is an understatement of what followed. Mental health is something I really didn’t understand how to manage/address at a lot of levels (and would argue that most of us, including those in the profession, struggle to really grasp). Now I was dealing with my own along side a large amount of guilt. Passion for anything seemed… pointless. Going through the motions to get through the day was routine and trying to juggle a business along side all of this seemed impossible. If it weren’t for my wife during those initial days and weeks (or more) I wouldn’t have made it. But even then, it was just enough to get though. So, I did what I talked to Anton about and made the last thing I said to him a promise. I owed it to him, even if I couldn’t decide if I owed it to make it up for not being there, or just to make him proud… I owed it… So, I started getting involved in drifting.

As an extremely introverted person, definitely somewhere on the neuro-divergent spectrum, and with not a small amount of anxiety it wasn’t the easiest jump – but there were a few people that helped already making a bridge… and, the community welcomed us without question, fully… and it just felt.. right, and good…. It was about fun ,and pushing limits. No posturing, no bullshit and (almost) no drama back then.  It was the salve I needed to at least begin to from a scar. It wasn’t going to fix anything, but it WAS going to help keep me from bleeding out.

Is seems anti-climatic to build up this situation to have the result condensed into a single (and underwhelmingly written) paragraph.  But like my wife in my wedding vows, you were already warned that words are not my strong suit. And mostly, because that’s really how simple it was. There was no grand epiphany or single lighting strike event (though many that are distinct milestones and memories from the initial season). It just, fit.

10 years later, and this scar is still here, and still feels like an open wound more often than not. But we’re also 10 years into drifting, 8 season of Formula Drift and multiple teams, drivers, memories and locations later. It may not be as simple, and definitely isn’t as stress or care free as it once was, but the passion hasn’t changed. Some days its because of guilt, some days it’s because I want to make Anton proud, often its because I am a stubborn idiot that can’t turn down a challenge and unanswered questions – but even despite convincing myself I was “taking time off” or going to walk away, the reality is I couldn’t imagine my life right now without drifting. I still love and explore other motorsports and am an avid road racer and have branched out into working in these realms again, but drifting, and more importantly the community is always the salve (and even tourniquet when I need it).  Time heals all wounds is still bullshit, but time does create new friends and families that remind you that, despite the wound, there is still more to keep going for.