Motorsports is always changing, but it’s still as captivating as ever. For proof, look at Formula Drift. Shown here is a scene from the Motegi Super Drift event held during the 2018 Toyota Grand Prix of Long Beach.
The following is an excerpt from “Slow Car Fast,” a new book from author Ryan K. ZumMallen on what it means to be a car guy in 2020, and how now-ubiquitous power has turned millennial enthusiasts to search for balance, handling and character. “Slow Car Fast” is available now in e-book and paperback at CarraraBooks.com.
The first time I attended the Grand Prix of Long Beach, I committed a crime. It was 2006, my junior year of college, and my first as a sportswriter for CSU Long Beach’s student alternative weekly. As far as my editor and I could tell, our paper had never covered the race, just four miles from campus, in its 30-year history.
I applied for a media credential and began to plan my attack on one of the most important street races in the world. The open-wheel racers of Champ Car took the main stage. The support series that weekend included the GT cars of SPEED World Challenge and the prototypes of the Grand American Rolex Series, both since merged into different series. There was a lot to consider. So when my credential application came back with a denial, I knew it wasn’t the end of my weekend.
Without a job at the time and not enough money for a date, let alone a race weekend, I improvised. I drove into downtown Long Beach and found free parking in the sketchy lot of an abandoned building that’s since been torn down for condos. Then I climbed up seven flights of stairs to reach the top level of a massive parking garage. The garage fills up fast on race weekend because the track runs right up against it. From any of the floors you could look down onto Turn 5, as the cars wiggled into a bumpy slow right and thundered up the road, passing under a massive bridge topped by a decorative roller coaster. The ocean was not far in the distance. You could hear the roar of the crowd and feel the pounding engines reverberate over the concrete and up into your throat. I stayed there for a few hours before feeling the urge to get closer.
I headed down to the street level and walked along the fencing hoping for a better look at the action. I won’t go into details, but I found a way inside. Before long I was on the grounds. I’m not proud of sneaking into an event that holds a very dear place in my heart, but I felt pulled toward the track. Watching the cars, roaring down the same streets I drove all the time to go to the movies, was intoxicating. The crowd was enthralled and ready to party. It was a dream. I wrote a letter to the Grand Prix in my column that week, apologizing for sneaking in — but I also don’t regret it. (Don’t get any ideas. I’ve checked my point of entry many times and it’s no longer possible.)
Ever since that year the Toyota Grand Prix of Long Beach has been a hallmark event for me, circled on the calendar long in advance. Lots of other people feel the same way. The 2018 event drew more than 185,000 attendees over the three-day weekend, according to organizers — the highest total since 2000. I’ve always taken note of the high number of families, women and children in attendance, which stands out compared with most other motorsports events I’ve been to. Spend any time at the race and it’s easy to believe that it has something to do with the event setup.
Not only is the Grand Prix set an urban waterfront in sunny Southern California, there’s also a lot to enjoy besides the racing. The convention center has vendors and a kids’ carnival. Outside, downwind of the grillers boasting foot-long hot dogs and turkey legs, there is an exotic car paddock, the garages for the IMSA WeatherTech SportsCar Championship are open and there are concerts when the sun goes down. The boardwalk restaurants lie within the track grounds and remain open through the weekend. The Grand Prix of Long Beach must be the only racetrack in the world with a Hooters within its confines.
During the 2018 running I spent hours walking the grounds — with an approved media pass, this time — just to chat with friends and scope out the scene. Outside the convention center, a radio station pumped country music to couples square dancing as IndyCars screamed around them. On the grassy walk between grandstands, a woman rode piggyback on her boyfriend and stole swigs out of the beer helmet on his head. Standing at the base of a giant rock-climbing wall, a young fan, maybe 8 or 9, peeked through his bangs and showed off the front fender of a Porsche 911 that had been ripped off during practice for the World Pirelli Challenge Series. The boy had passed by the Pfaff Motorsports garage at the right time and the team let him keep the fender. Driver Scott Hargrove autographed it. Now the boy wouldn’t let it out of his sight. He carried it halfway around the outside of the circuit and took it home as a souvenir.
I turned to find the boardwalk and almost bumped into two teens carrying telephoto lenses. Stringy and long-limbed, they’d been stalking the outside fence seeking any clean shot. One wore a Ford Motorsports hat, the other a Fontana Auto Club t-shirt and IndyCar hat. When they turned to leave, I stopped them. Jared Caylor and Noah Benton, both 17, were from nearby Palos Verdes. They’d driven over to Long Beach together to see the weekend’s cars up close and hopefully catch a lucky shot.
I asked which motorsport they most enjoyed watching or shooting. “Whatever drives by,” Caylor said. “Yeah, all the way up through the Super Trucks,” Benton said. Both belonged to a car club at school, consisting of gearhead friends who cruised together and worked on their cars. Caylor even competes locally in senior karting. On a beautiful Saturday in Southern California they had grins plastered across their faces. It was even Coachella weekend. These two teens passed on Beyoncé for BMWs.
I was thrilled to see such a huge variety of motorsports on display. After the IMSA race came Stadium Super Trucks, a mix between sports car racing and monster trucks with carnage, three-wheel cornering and jumps — yes, jumps — that launch the steroidal pickups 20 feet up into the air. IMSA gave race fans what they wanted. SST whipped the crowd into a frenzy.
Drifting followed. Long Beach is a special place for Formula Drift, the professional drift series in its 16th season. Its office headquarters used to be right down the street and is now located in the Long Beach enclave of Signal Hill. Formula Drift typically holds a competition for championship points one week prior to the Grand Prix, taking over the weekend and descending upon the city with a fury of loud pipes and tire smoke, followed by a demonstration event during race weekend. For 2018, FD held a points event during race weekend. As the sun began to set and the day drew to a close, the grandstands along Turns 9, 10 and 11 swelled with fans. They were in for a show.
From my seat, two cars at a time came screaming into view to the left. They were fully sideways on a right-hander that immediately transitioned to a long, sweeping turn swinging from left to right in front of me. Now they’re off to the right, tip-toeing into a hairpin right still tucked up alongside one another until they hammer out and run out of view. Smoke left in their wake filled up my entire field of vision as my adrenaline lingered. It’s a challenging set of corners with no down time. Formula D drivers take the whole thing near triple-digit speeds. The sound and fury was unlike anything else that had been around the track that day.
On the first night of drifting, I was taken aback by the energy in the crowd. The drivers lined up to greet and wave to thundering applause. They then did tandem donuts, three groups at a time, some breaking off for their own theatrics, the crowd losing its mind. You could only see the spinning headlights through the smoke. Fans hanging from the balconies on high-rise condominiums could be heard screaming down onto the mayhem. It was still broad daylight. The competition hadn’t started yet.
Polish driver Piotr Wiecek took home first place that night in a red, white and blue Nissan Silvia S15. It’s not much different from the ones amateurs race around the world every weekend. It just has about 1,000 horsepower. Wiecek was impressive and made few mistakes, if any. But I found myself emotionally moved by the performance of American driver Forrest Wang, in a bright green S15, who positively danced on the tarmac. Each twist was a pirouette, each toss of the tail carried so much panache I didn’t realize I was jumping up and down on the metal bleachers until the end of his run. Wiecek deserved the win. But Wang sold me on drifting.
Polish drift driver Piotr Wiecek at the 2018 Motegi Super Drift event at Long Beach.
On the second night, I considered myself an expert drifting judge. Once again, Wiecek was impressive. Once again, in my amateur opinion, Wang was transcendent. His drifts were held longer, his tail came out farther. He put more pressure on the leader and he dared others to do the same with him in front. He made more mistakes, but when he’s on it’s like nothing I’ve seen in motorsport.
As the night rolled on, vendors strolled up and down the rows yelling “Cold lemonade!” and “Hot churros!” No clouds appeared in the crisp orange sky that casted a rose gold hue over everyone and everything at the track. I switched to the seats at the end of the hairpin, where you could catch the cars running through the sweeper at a distance and watch them come onto the straight up close. From here the view is punctuated by palm trees. The smoke drifts carried south to Orange County and combined to create a rubbery haze with the pinks and oranges of the horizon balancing atop the Pacific. There’s nothing like racing in Long Beach.
A mother and father and their adult children were drunk to my right. The teenage girls to my left discussed drifting technique and whooped it up after every run. We all watched the cars fly through the hairpin and come to a complete stop while they awaited their scores. Smoke billowed out of the wheelwells and into the cabin for several minutes after each run. In the battle before the championship round, Wiecek and Wang were perfectly matched. Neither missed an inch. The judges decided two runs were not enough to choose a winner and they ran it back for a third time. This time, Wiecek barely edged Wang out to advance. He then defeated the Ford Mustang of Justin “JTP” Pawlak to claim his second win in two nights.
I was awestruck. The level of driving skill was certainly on par with anything I saw from IMSA or IndyCar drivers all weekend. But mostly at the fans, who packed the stands well into the dark of night. The enthusiasm never waned. They were just as hyped when Wiecek accepted his trophy as when the fun began. A standing ovation accompanied all the drivers who rolled out at the end of the show, many fans whistling and clapping with their hands held high. Pumping their fists. This is what love looks like. This is what passion and knowledge of the sport and appreciation of the skill looks like. All ages, all races. This does not look like a desperate industry or a struggling sport. I left with throngs of satiated fans.
If car culture ever does truly die, drifting will be the last thing to go.
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