The Fast Track

"How many times do I have to tell you? Take your foot off the gas!" It's 9:30 a.m. on the first day of racing school, and my instructor and co-pilot, Paul Mazzacane, looks as if he's about to blow a fuse. We're on a skid pad, a circular track slicked down with water, and I'm speeding around it so fast that the rear tires lose traction and the car goes into a fishtail. For most folks, this would be the time to let go of the wheel and pray (which is my instinct), but the idea here is to practice the spin so many times that you regain control of the vehicle--by steering in the direction of the skid, waiting for the tires to regain traction, then turning the wheel back in the direction you want to travel. At least that's the concept. After the fifth attempt, my goal is simply to hold down my breakfast and get Mazzacane, normally a mild-mannered guy, to quit yelling at me.

So it goes at BMW's M School, a two-day fantasy camp where amateurs can indulge their inner Jeff Gordon. Driving schools, offered by Audi, Jeep, Porsche and independent operators like Skip Barber, have grown popular in recent years. For automakers, it's all about branding, creating a vacation-like "experience" around a car. Last summer Chrysler extended its Camp Jeep event to California, luring 3,000 folks for two days of off-roading, and Porsche has started a similar program for fans of its Cayenne SUV. BMW runs several programs at its Performance Center in Spartanburg, S.C. At M School, students race high-performance M3 coupes (333 h.p.) and M5 sedans (400 h.p.), loaned by BMW as part of the deal (which includes room and board at a Marriott). The requirements: $3,650, proficiency with a stick shift and an iron stomach.

Since all the students think they're better drivers than they really are, school starts with a lesson in braking for the eight enrollees. "I'm sure you're all experts at flooring the accelerator," says Matt Mullins, one of the instructors, "but how many of you are used to flooring the brake pedal?" No hands go up, and Mullins proceeds to illustrate how to recover from a spinout, slide through a curve, aim for the apex in a corner and accelerate out. Geared up with helmets, we head out to the skid pad, then move on to a lesson in heel-toe technique: gunning the throttle while braking and downshifting (don't try this at home). After lunch, it's on to a slalom course, racing around cones placed in a tight configuration, then an exercise called "rat race," high-speed driving in hourglass formations.

By the end of the first day, I feel as if I've ridden a roller coaster for six hours. The second day brings no respite. At Michelin's Laurens Proving Grounds, we take turns on a larger track. The skid pad here is a half-mile oval surrounded by wide swaths of muddy grass. Spin out, and you wind up in the weeds, which is where I find myself a couple of times. For the course's finale, we split into teams and, racing against the clock, tear through a slalom. When my turn arrives, my adrenaline is pumping so hard that I put the car in reverse (a common mistake, I'm assured). Suffice it to say, my team loses.