This ridiculous grin strains every facial muscle, but I can't help it. As I peel around the sharp curve of the interstate exit ramp, it all comes back to me—it feels like the legendary track at Sebring, and I'm back at Skip Barber Racing School.

It was the realization of a forever dream. For someone who just "can't drive 55"—and has a Ph.D. in driver's school, resulting from local law enforcement's intolerance for my lead foot—Skip Barber Racing School is like methadone to a junkie—it's a legal high.

As a guest at VP Racing Fuel's corporate program, I was instantly in my element, sniffing the faint aroma of hot oil and burnt rubber as we approached the track. VP is the official fuel for Skip Barber's Racing School and Pro Race Series, so all the good ol' boys who drive the fuel trucks—and the sales--were ready to rock and roll as we hit the raceway. These guys could probably drive the 18-wheelers around the track!

The Skip Barber instructors are a good natured bunch--former and current SCCA, ProSport Car, IMSA, and NHRA racers, they are people who know from experience what they show and tell you. Our classroom stint was a brief intro to vehicle dynamics—"what you can and can't do"--including finding the apex in turns, understeering and oversteering. Terry Earwood, a quick-witted and tongued, southern drag racer who could give Jeff Foxworthy material, jam-packed his presentation with details on racing lines, grip and torque, peppered with anecdotes and other pertinent race lingo. A Southeastern Drag Racing Hall of Famer, he was quick to point out terms like TTO (Trailing, Throttle, Oversteer), CPR (Correction, Pause, Recovery—not to be confused with Connect Power Wreck), as well as "technical" terms like WAO (wide-ass open). We were reminded that the four words that precede most deaths and accidents in the south, usually before jumping off something, lighting something or hitting something were, "Hey y'all, watch this!" and then we were ready to hit the Autocross track.

After buzzing around the _ mile track in a Flame Red Dodge Neon ES with big Michelin tires, I will never again laugh at those little cars on the road. The shift was fluid and smooth, and with 2.0 liter, 132 horsepower engines, we cornered, burned rubber and learned how to down-shift, power brake and accelerate through racing turns. Though the critical apex of each turn was marked and we rode with an instructor, it was still a challenge to execute what was seemingly simple while sitting still. Learning that "A squealing tire is a happy tire," was music to my ears, and I aimed to make those tires just as happy as I was!

Then it was finally my turn for the biggest thrill. The Viper GTS was la creme de la creme, its aerodynamic lines taunting me to let it's 450 HP fly across the Autocross track. It sat waiting there, softly purring my name, even though it was screaming Viper red. Like its namesake snake, it beckoned me to bite into its candy apple skin; like Eve, I felt powerless to resist, slipping into the driver's seat, which is more like a cockpit, trying to stop grinning and resembling the entire Pointer Sister family. Though the brake and clutch are extremely close to each other, I didn't want to touch the brake; I just wanted to hear the hulking 8 liter, 488 cubic inch, V-10 engine growl--and keep driving into the sunset. A stark contrast to the quick little Neon, the Viper, with 490 pounds of torque, hugged the track with its Michelins gripping every inch of pavement as I fishtailed it—not quite on purpose, but with a rush of adrenaline that made my complexion match the paint job.

Ram 4x4 trucks awaited at the skid pad where we had license to squeal more tires across wet pavement as a lesson in correction, pause and recovery. While trying not to run over the sprinkler heads that showered the pavement and windshield, Earwood reminded me to steer into the skid, but to recover by looking where I wanted to go. Funny how our first reaction is to look where we're going—even if it's not where we had in mind!

I got to take the Ram for a spin—let's call that a ride around the full track--where we would test our solo skills in 2-liter Formula Dodge race cars after lunch. With the Dixie Chicks blaring, "Cowboy Take Me Away!" on the radio, I gazed in awe at the Michelin sponsored arches above me as we crossed the finish line, and pinched myself to get the packed grandstands out of my mind's eye.

Decked in an "official" Skip Barber Racing School suit, and donning a full face helmet, I ignored the trickling sweat as the winter Florida sun shone through the clouds. Did Mario Andretti ever think about sweat? I was focused on remembering the myriad of instructions as I squeezed into the Open Wheel race car seat, adjusting the shoulder harnesses, leg room and feeling for the stiff and stubborn gear shift. We were to follow a Neon pace car, with another cohort behind, making the seven turns around the 1.5 mile track. Sitting low to the ground and seeing the wheels at eye level was an experience that I tried to liken to go-carting at the Grand Prix Race-O-Rama—an effort to calm my nerves so I wouldn't screw up and skid into the walls I was trying not to notice—let alone the pace car, or a fellow aspiring racer! The mini-Formula car held the track solid and though I imagined the Neon was going over 100 mph, (OK, it was about 70, but felt like 100!) I just kept the pedal to the metal to keep up. Braking felt strange, but necessary as I recalled the instructor's reminder to brake hard in the approach, then power through the turns. Being flagged in to Pit Lane after 10 laps seemed much too soon, but after switching cars with a partner, we were off to do it again. This time, with confidence, I eased into the seat, buckled up and accelerated with a roar. After a few laps, a momentary blink in concentration left me spinning in a 360, but as soon as I realized there was no "thud" following the screeching tires, I jumped back into the fray! How do those guys do that with a herd of other cars flying around them?!

Hoping that no one caught the errant move, I ended my laps but couldn't escape a bit of ribbing from the patient and amiable crew, who assured me they had seen worse. Though the helmet was tight and the suit was baggy, I didn't want to take them off. I was Marilyn Andretti for a day and didn't want to part with my alter ego. The group photo will surely do my dentist proud!

And as I power through the turn on the exit ramp, I realize that I've made three U-Turns on this highway, and am going to have to continue south sooner or later. But there comes that grin again, and picturing myself in that Viper, Marilyn Andretti is in no hurry to go home.

The Skip Barber Racing School started in 1975 and has a long list of celebrity and pro racing graduates, including John Andretti, Michael Andretti, Jeff Gordon, Bryan Herta, Juan Montoya, Lyn St. James and Darrell Alderman. For more information about Skip Barber Racing School, Driving School, Corporate Programs or Barber Dodge Pro Series Racing Schedule, visit www.skipbarber.com or call 800-221-1131.