The Night We Turned Lime Rocks Go-Kart Track into a racetrack

There was an evening at Lime Rock Park long after the official sessions had ended, just as the sun dipped behind the trees where a few of us decided the evening wasn’t over until we made it… memorable.

I had my E21. A friend had a 2002. Another had an E30. Three small BMWs. Small enough to fit where we definitely weren’t supposed to.

Someone pointed at the little go-kart circuit near the infield and said, “Hey… technically we could fit.”

That’s how all the best bad ideas start.

And sure enough, we could. Surprisingly well….The cars looked a little oversized and under-supervised like someone scaled the world wrong but the smiles were instant. Tight corners, short straights, ridiculous lines… all of it felt like being a kid again, only louder and with better steering feel.

Security and a few corner workers noticed us first. Of course they did. They rolled up slow, watching us run these tiny laps like confused parents discovering their kids riding bicycles inside the house. And they Laughed. Loud enough we could hear them. Taking pictures. I still have the one of us 3 wide on the strait.

Then they noticed the drunk spectators.

Turns out a small crowd had gathered — tipsy track-day warriors who thought what we were doing looked like the greatest idea ever conceived. Which, naturally, is exactly when things become dangerous for everyone who isn’t us.

One of the security guys finally waved us down, walked up laughing, and said: “Look… you’re clearly fine. But if any of them try this after a beer or 10, we’re gonna have a real problem. So do me a favor quit while you’re ahead.”

Fair enough.

We parked the cars, hearts still pounding, engines ticking, all of us grinning like we’d gotten away with something big. The crowd wandered off to find new questionable decisions, and the track settled back into its normal quiet.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even OK, technically. My favorite kind of OK

But it was one of those stupid, perfect moments you only get once a little pocket of joy wedged into the corner of a race track where no one expects it.

Sometimes the best laps aren’t the official ones. Sometimes they’re the ones you take just because you can.