First, a confession: One day, on a business trip some years ago, I drove my rental car through an open gate at NASCAR’s Charlotte Motor Speedway and took a couple laps as fast as I dared. I wanted to see what it was like and no one said I couldn’t.

There have been reports of speeding tickets in Missouri and Iowa and, perhaps, California. A family spokesman would neither confirm nor deny. ...

I was more focused on this even than that first high school strip-tease show. So busy, steering, accelerating, tracking the lead car, down low into turns, out high at the end, close to the blurred wall.

I heard the engine. That’s all. I felt every little bump three inches beneath my butt. At one point, I was out of breath. I’d forgotten. 

I don’t recall ever having such intense focus before. Or since.