Time for a confession.

I had the opportunity to take a ride in a super gas car with an instructor from Frank Hawley’s Drag Racing School Aug. 1 but I couldn’t go through with it.

As soon as I realized I couldn’t do it I felt bad because Jason Fiorito, who is president of Pacific Raceways where the ride was supposed to happen, had personally invited me.

It was a lead-up event prior to the National Hot Rod Association’s 25th Annual O’Reilly Auto Parts Northwest Nationals Aug. 3-5.

I arrived at the track at noon and took photos of other folks going down the quarter-mile drag strip in the super gas car as well as a super comp dragster, which was driven by former instructor and NHRA funny car driver Jack Beckman.

Both cars go in excess of 140 MPH. Now, I drive a 2000 Ford Mustang, which has 190 horsepower stock and tops out at 120 MPH. I’ve pushed it to that limit in the past when some punk kid tried to pass me in the right lane in an early 1990s four cylinder Honda Accord on state Route 18 when I was driving, um, more than the legal speed limit of 60 MPH.

Amazingly, enough, I have not yet gotten a speeding ticket in my Mustang. Knock on wood.

But, I digress.

Prior to getting into a two-layer fire suit that is similar to what NASCAR drivers wear – NHRA drivers wear eight-layer fire suits and the nitromethane fueled cars cover 1,000 feet in four seconds or less while generating 7,000 horsepower – I told at least three other people that I was stoked to take a ride in drag racing car.

The cars were brought out from Florida and are instruction vehicles, so, imagine your driver’s ed car on steroids.

Once I got the fire suit on, I was excited, then I put the hood on and though it was in the low 70s I started getting warm. It was uncomfortable. But, no worries, the ride would last a mere nine seconds.

My draw was the super gas car. I didn’t mind. Seemed like everyone wanted to ride in the dragster, which I could understand. I wanted to ride in it, too, but that’s because I’ve met Jack Beckman. Alas, that is another story for another time.

So, I very not gracefully got into the passenger side of the car. I had a jacket, pants, hood and helmet on over my clothes. As I thunked into the the seat, the visor on my helmet went down and my vision was significantly reduced.

At that moment, my heart rate skyrocketed. Then, I got strapped in. Tight.

I had a flashback to the last enclosed MRI I had in 2005. I have a bad back and eventually had surgery in March 2006. After the last enclosed MRI, where I barely managed to survive the 20 minutes in the machine, I told my orthopedic doctor I would never do one of those again – by then I had done it twice.

The final nail in the coffin for my ride that was not-to-be was when one of the drag racing school employees guided my left hand to a lever and said, “Press this if for any reason you need to pop the seat belt off.”

Unlike the safety message on an airplanes, which I kind of roll my eyes at because I’ve heard it so many times, I thought to myself, “Crap! If something happens…”

Then the claustrophic response was in full force and I told them I had to get out of the car. The driver and the other guy who helped me get in the car were totally cool about it.

But, I was a bit embarrassed.

I went and talked to Fiorito to confess I couldn’t do it, that I had an anxiety attack in the seat, and he told me not to feel bad. He’s raced cars before and gone through the same thing in the cockpit.

In that moment I had a whole new appreciation for what these men and women who race cars week in and week out do.

My mind also went back to a conversation I had with Tim Wilkerson in 2005. He drives a funny car sponsored by Levi, Ray and Shoup, which is generously called a Mustang, but it’s really a jet-propelled vehicle on four wheels.

I mentioned to Wilkerson that I drove a Mustang as my daily car but I didn’t think I could drive his version and he said to me, “I think my Mustang is safer than your Mustang.”

After getting strapped into the super gas car, which is decidedly tame by comparison, I know without a doubt that Wilkerson was right.

Driving back toward Covington on SR 18 – I had another appointment soon after and I wanted to collect myself first – I realized what politicians and race cars have in common.

Both groups are fearless.

This event, called the Rainier Cup, also gave Gov. Chris Gregoire and other elected officials the same opportunity I bailed on at the last minute.

Gregoire reportedly had a huge grin on her face after she got out of the race car.

The next day I spoke with Fiorito at the NHRA press conference at the Space Needle about how he felt the event went.

“I believe that the governor was very impressed not only the experience of the car but the gravity of the show that the Full Throttle Drag Racing Series brings to town,” Fiorito said. “It was a wonderful opportunity to showcase what the .. series is like to the top elected official. We are really proud of the event. It was well attended. It was well covered. I was really happy with the support that the event received from the city of Kent, the city of Auburn, the King County Council and our top elected official in the state.”

Kent Mayor Suzette Cook screeched a bit as she squeezed into the tight quarters of the super comp dragster an hour before I got the chance to get suited up.

Afterward, she gushed about it as she chatted with Fiorito. Cook knew nothing about drag racing but she got a quick and dirty lesson in the sport.

Pete Lewis, mayor of Auburn, had a smile on his face after he climbed out of the super gas car and lingered at the track long after his nine seconds of adrenaline rush was over.

Fearlessness.

I confess it’s something I thought I had but maybe not as much.

Clearly I am not cut out for a political career or a gig as a race car driver.

It was a humbling moment for me. I absolutely did not expect to have that kind of reaction. But, I knew that I couldn’t recover, and I think it was for the best that I got out rather than be freaked out.

Still, Fiorito said, the event gave myself and many others the opportunity to have that experience whether they went down the track or not. And it turns out I wasn’t the only one who bailed before the run. I feel moderately better about that.

“We hope that the event created some relationships at least and some awareness of what we currently do and what our vision for the future of Pacific Raceways is,” Fiorito said.

Cheers to the drivers, the crew members and the folks at the track for their patience.

And next time I say, “Oh, this is nothing, I’ve had an emergency appendectomy, back surgery and given birth,” someone should just smack upside the head.

I confess, I am not fearless. And I am not afraid to admit it.