Greg was talking about how the engineering department at Roush Fenway is starting to look a lot like NASA, and how teams can now test cars with out even going to the race track on a simulator called a seven-post machine. It’s basically a high-tech simulator that you park a race car on, and it will replicate the surface of any track the team has gathered information from.

All this leads me to my actual experience IN the car ON the seven-post machine. The track the boys at Roush Fenway punched up for me on the simulator was Daytona, which I can now say from firsthand simulated experience is a very bumpy ride. And while the technology of the simulator and the realistic feel of the ride was very impressive, I was way more impressed with what the drivers deal with getting in and our of their race cars.

Tune in on any race day and you’ll see the small and agile frames of the drivers slide in their cars as smoothly as your foot slipping in your sock. As far as an overweight sports reporter trying to slip into the car of tomorrow built for Carl Edwards… it was more like trying to cram my foot into the socks my 3-year-old wears.

First, I couldn’t squeeze past the headrest in the drivers side, so I went to the passenger side window to try to get into the driver’s seat, and while I was able to get in the car, the driver’s seat was not happening.

Going the extra mile, the guys at Roush Fenway broke out the tools and removed the headrest. While I was able to squeeze my 6’ 1” 235-pound frame in the car, getting into the seat that is made to cradle the muscled up Carl Edwards snuggly was now another challenge.

I sat there for about 2 minutes wondering if this stand up would ever happen, was all this worth it? I don’t think I have been through a squeeze like that since I escaped mother’s womb. Finally, with the coaching of the engineers to twist my frame and raise my arms over my head, I took a deep breath in and then let every molecule of air out of my lungs and victory was achieved, as my wide behind landed on the seat.

Usually when I’m getting ready to do a stand-up (or sit-down in this case), I’m worried about what I’m going to say and I want to make sure to say it right. But this time the first thought that crossed my mind after getting in that seat was: Will I be able to get out? I had serious doubts! Thankfully getting out was slightly easier than getting in.

The whole experience left me feeling like the kid I recently saw squeeze himself out of a small box at halftime of a Bobcats game. Whatever it takes to get the job done, I guess.

While I now have a new profound respect for the engineers at Roush Fenway racing and how they get their cars ready to go test, and race, I have a far deeper newfound respect for the drivers, and how they make their living at 190 miles per hour, in the claustrophobic confines of a race car that makes an F-16 cockpit feel roomy by comparison.