DAYTONA BEACH, Fla. — Not going to lie, I was a little terrified.
The last time I had driven a stick shift was more than a decade ago, and I repeatedly stalled out in the middle of a busy East Lansing street. That’s all I could think about as I stood on pit road at Daytona International Speedway, dressed in a firesuit and about to climb into a NASCAR stock car.
In the driver’s seat. By myself. On the 2.5-mile track, NASCAR’s second-biggest oval that’s home to the Daytona 500.
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