LOXLEY, Ala. — It was supposed to be a routine assignment. Go to Deep South Speedway, interview a race car driver, a car owner, a track official and maybe, if I was lucky, a spectator or two from the local area. Get a few pictures. No problem.

That was until someone asked me, “Do you want to go for a ride?”

Whoa. Whoo-hoo. Everything on my list was checked off, and I was just waiting for some cars to whirl around the track for a few photos.

I really didn’t need to take a ride.

Yeah, right. Look out folks, I am going. Track owner Bill Webb tells me this car won a few races in previous years. Whoo-hoo, indeed.

The former race car is tricked out with a passenger seat. Most race cars only have a seat for the driver, but Deep South likes to give some visitors an up-close and personal view of the track. They may even be able to take some of the track’s red clay home. In their teeth. Double whoo-hoo.

Well, the first problem is how does one get into the car. For safety reasons, the doors are welded shut, and the only way in or out is through the window.

Yes, this is all easy and smooth for the NASCAR and other race car drivers you see on TV; they just pop in and out of the vehicle, but you are talking about a lady who judges a potential car by how easy it is to get in and out.

Well.

My purse and camera bag go on the hood. No room for them in there, and a member of the track staff tells me they can secure them. My camera, however, stays with me, even though a member of the loading crew doubts I’ll be able to take photos once the car is going.

Hmpf. These guys don’t know me very well, do they?

Next, I am glad my family didn’t see me jackknife into the car. I was mostly in, but my my note pad and pen had fallen to the floor. Worse, my left leg was in an odd position.

No problem. The car’s crew took the pad away and eased my leg into a proper driving position.

Now it was time for belts and helmet. The car uses a classic “five-point” restraint system. That means a lot of webbing hooking up over a lot of different places on your body.

One of the crew, “J.C.,” (he didn’t give a last name) was a young gentleman and despite his job of making sure my belts were on right and tight, was clearly reluctant to lay hands on an old lady.

That’s silly. Nice, well-mannered and gallant, but silly. Any woman who has been through childbirth is used to having a stranger’s hands in or on the most amazing places. I assured him that as long as he stuck to his job (and I darn well knew the difference!) everything was fine. My aim was to survive this ride.

The full-face helmet blocks all view of your lower body, and it’s not too hot for side vision either. And, you can smell the previous occupants. Ugh.

By this time, my driver, Larry Cifra, hopped into the driver’s side, asking, “Are you ready?” as he buckled up and donned his helmet, expertly threading an intercom system into the right ports.

Well yes, and well, no. But chickening out in front of all these guys was not an option. So, I was ready.

Larry gave me a few hand signals to use to tell him to speed up, slow down or STOP. Like I was gong to use those. One of the crew had tried to tell me the same signals, and I figured he was joking. With my luck the stop signal was “go faster.” No, I was just going to be a passenger this time. No side-seat driving for me.

And that was another problem. The car has a passenger’s side wheel, and to make sure I had enough room, it was removed. That left the shaft the wheel attaches to bare and pointing toward my chest. Uh-oh.

Cifra maneuvered the car to the track on ramp. I told him I wanted to snap some photos, so he decided on a slower run for the first lap, then the next three would be faster.

True to his word, Cifra took the first lap “slow.” I got some shots. I even gave the family I was interviewing a “thumbs up.”

And then Cifra put the hammer down.

Deep South Speedway has a dirt track, and Cifra slewed the car almost perpendicular with the infield. I found out why the people I interviewed had noticed more spin outs in turn two. Disney engineers should take a ride with Cifra before designing their next thrill ride.

Oh my, no whoo-hoo for me. My helmet felt like it was going to fly off.

I was so glad to see the white (one lap left) flag flash out, followed by the final checkered flag. Cifra took a final lap. In style and at top speed. And then it was over.

Getting out of the car didn’t take half as long as getting in, and I thanked the crew.

Solid earth never felt so good. Whoo-hoo.