One of the perks of covering auto racing was getting to take pace car rides.

Riding with a professional driver at the wheel of just about any kind of race car offers the opportunity to experience real speed without much danger and, often, to get to know the driver better.

The one major caveat about taking pace car rides is that most professional drivers believe it is their mission in life to try to scare the pants off their passengers.

My first such experience came in 1983 during the lead-up to the Daytona 24 Hours. 

Veteran racer Bob Tullius was giving media rides in his Jaguar XJR-5 a couple of days before the race. The track PR guy, Ron Meade, asked if I'd be interested and, although I was a little leery, I said yes.

I was issued a helmet, which made me feel claustrophobic, and told to climb into the car through the window on the passenger side. I was younger then, so I managed that without too much embarrassment.

The seat was a metal plate set onto the tube frame of the car. It was not attached to anything. There were no seat belts for a passenger, so Bob, grinning broadly, told me to hang onto the frame with both hands.

"I'll take it easy, so there's nothing to worry about," he said.

When the car took off, I was thrown back into the roll bar behind me - hard. We rolled through the infield portion of the track with the turns tossing me around like a rag doll. Then we entered the banked oval portion of the track and Bob hit the gas.

I had no control over anything, but I admit that, as we approached the first turn on the oval, I was pushing my foot to the floor as if I was braking the car. I was sure he had gone in too deep and we were going to hit the concrete wall, but, of course, the car turned easily at the last moment - again throwing me to the side - and glided through.

We made two laps and I knew I would have some bruises on me the next day. But, despite that, it was exhilarating and I wanted more.

Nowadays, there's no way a track or sanctioning body would allow a passenger in a race car without proper safety equipment and a real seat. But I survived and I loved it.

I've been asked a lot if I ever drove a race car. The truth is I never really wanted to.

I'm a decent driver on the street, but I really didn't know if I had the kind of hand-eye coordination to handle a race car at speed. The last thing I wanted to do was find out what it was like to hit a wall or go through a fence.

But there was one time I did get to drive a souped up car on a racetrack - and I really surprised myself.

It was in the late 80's at Charlotte Motor Speedway. Chevrolet was offering drives in their newest IROC car, the Z/28. Surprisingly, they were allowing some of the media members to actually drive the cars.

I was a little nervous, but it seemed like a great opportunity. Besides, I figured I'd just take the car for a nice leisurely spin around the 1.5-mile oval and bring it back to the pit lane. Then I could say I had actually driven at Charlotte.

This time, the helmet fit me and the seat was form fit and comfortable. I had been driving stick shift cars since I was 16 years old, so the 5-speed didn't intimidate me.

As I turned the engine on and revved it a bit, the Chevy staffer running the program said, "You can do three laps and don't worry about going too fast. These cars have a governor to keep them under 160."

I gulped and took off, nearly killing the engine once before gliding onto the banked track.

My first lap, I did exactly what I had anticipated, keeping the car at around 100 mph and running in the low groove. But it felt slow and I got a little more brave on the second lap, jumping up to the second of three lanes and topping out at about 125.

It still felt smooth and easy and I guess I got a little fire in my eyes at that point. On my third lap, I floored it, zooming up into the top lane, near the wall, and burying the speedometer needle.

My heart was pounding, but it still felt smooth and easy as I backed off coming out of the fourth turn and slowed to enter the pit lane. It was harder to slow the car to the 25 mph pit lane speed than it had been to go fast.

After I stopped the car and got out, I felt for a while like my body was still going 100 mph.

Just that little taste let me know how speed can be addicting.

The Indianapolis Motor Speedway was a place where I was lucky enough to get numerous pace car rides.

Each year, for the Indy 500, a car manufacturer would designate a model as that year's pace car. And, each year, a celebrity, a former Indy winner or a VIP was chosen to drive the car for the start of the race.

Most years, the manufacturer would offer pace car rides to the media sometime during race week. I took advantage of the opportunity a number of times and enjoyed it.

The most memorable ride was in 1991. Carroll Shelby, an American automotive designer, racing driver, and entrepreneur, was chosen to drive Dodge's brand new Viper. The model was so new that only two prototypes were available the week of the race.

Shelby, who was 68 years old and less than a year beyond a heart transplant, looked fit and full of energy the day of my ride. But I did have second thoughts as we raced down the long backstretch at Indy at somewhere above 150 mph.

I looked over at Carroll and thought, "This guy has a young marine's heart. I hope the rest of him is good, too."

As we went into the fourth turn on our second and final lap, Carroll was hugging the outside wall. But, as we neared the entrance to the pit lane, he looked over at me with a big smile and said, "The handling on this baby is amazing. Watch this!"

We were still racing at more than 100 mph when he spun the wheel to the left. The car jerked hard and turned at nearly 90 degrees, then smoothly flowed onto the pit road. The move took my breath away, but it was pretty amazing."

Another pace car adventure came near the end of my career at Indy, where they were giving rides in a two-seater Indy car. The rides were intended to raise money for charity or to entertain VIPs, but I asked the track PR guy if there was any way I could get a ride and write a story about it.

The next day, I was in one of the Indy garages being fitted for a driving uniform and a helmet. I was then ushered out to the pit lane, where I waited behind the low concrete wall skirting the pit lane.

Watching and hearing the two-seater flash past at what seemed close to race speeds with other riders made me wonder if I had made a good decision to try this. But I was committed at that point.

When it was my turn, I stepped into the rear seat and was buckled in. My head was barely high enough to see over the sides of the open-cockpit car and all I could see of the driver in front of me was the back of his helmet.

Davey Hamilton, who had competed in the Indy 500 several times, was the driver that day and I had no qualms about being in the car with such an experienced racer.

There were a few sporadic raindrops that day and we had to wait in the pits for a few minutes to make sure the track was dry. I had no method of communication and it began to get very hot in my uniform and helmet. I started to sweat and became nervous, thinking I might have an anxiety attack if we didn't take off soon.

Just as I was thinking about unbuckling and signaling that I wanted to get out of the car, we got the green light and Davey hit the gas, roaring out of the pits and diving hard into the narrow first turn of the mostly flat 2.5-mile oval.

By the time we hit the backstretch, we were up to speed. I'm told we hit between 165 and 170 - far slower than the top speeds in the race, but an awesome feeling to me.

As we neared the end of the backstretch, an unlucky bird _ I don't know what kind because I barely saw it _ flew into the left-side mirror and clipped it off. I doubt there was anything left of that bird but feathers.

Davy slowed and drove into the pits. One of the crewmen signaled for me to stay in the car, letting me know I would have another lap or two after they replaced the mirror. And, again, a few drops of rain fell.

This time, the wait was about 10 minutes. But there were no more nerves. I couldn't wait to get back out on the track.

We got in two more laps at speed and I only wished it could have been more. After all those years of covering races at Indy and, after numerous pace car rides, the two-seater was the closest thing to actually racing at Indy and I was enthralled.

When I told Judy about the two-seater ride, she said, "That is something I would love to do."

I knew my wife loves speed. Unlike me, she was happy to be on a rollercoaster and often said she would have liked to ride in a race car.

I got her a pace car ride a few years earlier at Michigan International Speedway. The driver was Al Unser and he gave Judy a big greeting and made sure she was in the front passenger seat for the ride. Then he totally disappointed her by making a couple of laps on the 2-mile oval at pedestrian speeds - almost like driving down a highway.

The two-seater would be a whole different experience, if I could make it happen.

Again I talked with the track PR guy at Indy and told him how much Judy would love a ride. Much to my surprise, he said, "I think we can fit her in."

The next day, we were in the garage again, getting fitted for a driving uniform and helmet. This time, it took a while because everything was too big for Judy. Eventually, though, they found things that fit her.

As they prepared Judy for the ride, I ran into Sarah Fisher, a five-time Indy 500 participant and that day's two-seater driver. I told her that Judy was going to be among her riders that day.

Sarah said, "Should I give her the "A" ride or would that scare her?" I said, "She loves speed. As fast as you can go."

Sarah smiled and said, "I really don't see who is getting into the passenger seat most of the time. So give the high sign when she gets in and I'll see what I can do."

We waited by the pit wall for a couple of other riders before Judy finally went to get buckled into the car. As they were helping her settle in, I walked about 10 feet in front of the car and caught Sarah's eye.

I gave her a thumbs up, which she returned. I could see the big smile inside her face shield.

Listening to previous rides, the engine of the two-seater sounded like a loud, smooth truck engine as the car rolled into the first turn. When Sarah drove past with Judy behind her, her helmet barely above the top of the cockpit, the engine sounded like a loud scream and the doppler effect took extra moments to dissipate.

After the ride, when Judy climbed out of the car, I'm not sure her feet touched the ground. She was smiling and laughing. When she climbed over the wall, I said, "Well, how did you like it?"

She said, "I want to go again."

I knew the feeling.