My First Few Track Days (What I Got Wrong)

I didn’t have one disastrous first track day where everything went wrong.

What actually happened was slower than that. Over my first few events, I kept running into the same kinds of problems—small things that didn’t seem like a big deal in the moment, but ended up affecting how much I got out of each day.

None of this was catastrophic. I didn’t crash the car or break anything major. But I did waste time, energy, and a few sessions just figuring out things that, in hindsight, were pretty avoidable.

That’s really what this is about.

Showing up unprepared (in ways that matter)

The first thing I underestimated was everything that happens when you’re not on track.

I showed up with the obvious stuff—a helmet, a car that passed tech—but not much else. No torque wrench, no socket that actually fit my wheels, no chair, no shade. I didn’t think about any of that.

It turns out that matters more than I expected.

Between sessions, you’re checking the car, thinking through what just happened, trying to reset before going back out. If you don’t have the basics, everything becomes a little harder. You’re standing around, borrowing tools, rushing things you shouldn’t rush.

Meanwhile, everyone else looks settled in. They’ve got a routine. That contrast is noticeable.

The driving part of the day is only part of it. The rest happens in the paddock, and if you’re not set up there, it carries over onto the track.

Treating “basic checks” like they’re optional

At one event, I didn’t check tire pressures before my first session of the season.

After I came back in, I checked them and realized the fronts were about 10 PSI higher than they should’ve been and the rears were about 10 PSI lower.

So whatever I thought I was learning in that session was questionable at best.

The car didn’t feel consistent, and I didn’t have a good reference for what was actually happening. Was it my inputs? The setup? The tires? Hard to tell.

That was a good reminder that the car is part of the learning process. If something basic is off, you’re not just dealing with a slightly worse setup—you’re building instincts on top of bad information.

Expecting to improve every session

I went into my first few events thinking I’d just get better throughout the day.

Session one, learn a bit. Session two, build on that. By the end of the day, I’d be driving my best.

That’s not really how it worked.

You’re waking up early, sometimes driving a few hours, then jumping straight into something that takes a lot of focus. There’s adrenaline, there’s information coming at you constantly, and you’re trying to process all of it in real time.

By the third or fourth session, you’re not at your best anymore. Even if you feel fine, your focus isn’t as sharp. Your reactions are a little slower. You start making small mistakes you weren’t making earlier.

At the same time, the track is changing. Temperatures go up, tires behave differently, the car doesn’t feel exactly the same as it did in the morning.

It took me a while to accept that the goal isn’t to peak at the end of the day. It’s to manage your energy so you’re still driving well later on.

Instructor fit isn’t guaranteed

One thing I didn’t think about much beforehand was how much the instructor relationship matters.

Some instructors are a great fit right away. They explain things in a way that makes sense, they give you just enough to work on, and you leave the session feeling like you have a clear direction.

Other times, it’s not quite like that.

Maybe the communication style doesn’t match how you process things. Maybe there’s too much information coming in at once. Maybe it just doesn’t click.

And occasionally, you get someone who’s just kind of there. Not difficult, not unpleasant—just not particularly engaged. Minimal feedback, not much direction, and not really adding much to the day.

There are probably a lot of reasons for that. Instructors are often volunteers, and not every pairing is going to work.

Over time, I realized I couldn’t rely on every instructor being a perfect match. I had to get better at filtering what I was hearing and focusing on one or two things that I could actually apply.

Not really understanding the cost

I knew track days weren’t cheap, but I hadn’t fully thought through what a single event actually adds up to.

There’s the entry fee, obviously. Then fuel, especially if the track isn’t close. Travel, possibly a hotel. Track day insurance if you choose to carry it.

Then there’s everything else that comes later—tires, brakes, maintenance.

It’s not that any one thing is shocking. It’s the combination of all of it.

I don’t think you need to overanalyze this before your first event, but it helps to have a rough idea of what you’re getting into so it doesn’t catch you off guard.

Trying to push too early

This is probably the most predictable mistake.

You get out there, you’re excited, and you want to feel like you’re making the most of it. That usually translates into pushing harder than you should, earlier than you should.

When I did that, a few things tended to happen. My inputs got less consistent. I started missing reference points. I’d get through a session without really knowing what improved and what didn’t.

Backing things down a bit and focusing on being consistent turned out to be much more useful. It’s less exciting in the moment, but it gives you something you can actually build on.

What I’d do differently

Looking back, I wouldn’t change the fact that I just signed up and went.

But I would have been more deliberate about a few things:

None of this is complicated, but it’s easy to overlook when everything is new.

If you can avoid a few of these, you’ll get more out of your early track days than I did.