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FHM
November 2003
RACING FOR PINKS
Behind the Wheel with Malcolm in the Middle’s Chris Masterson
By Andrew Vontz
THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET
Any celeb with chedda-filled pockets can drop six figures on a badass racing sled with a stampede of horses galloping under the hood on 22” platinum hooves. But they can’t all drive that shit like Bobby Labonte. It takes an especially automotively-confident celeb to face down Adonis, FHM’s dilapidated but muscular ’71 Buick convertible, in a winner-takes-the-other-dude’s-car pink slip battle.
On Malcolm in the Middle, Chris Masterson plays Francis, the irascible eldest child. In real life, Masterson is a sharp, affable chap who spends his free time racing a Porsche 996 Turbo enhanced with a TechArt GT Street package.
His 996 is a fine piece of machinery. We thought it would look great parked beside Adonis in our garage. Masterson was game.
Sucker.
He invited us to join him at Willow Springs Speedway, his home race track in the California high desert. His terms: a five lap, no-holds-barred race.
Mission control to Adonis: Engage. Prepare to destroy.
We set forth for the desert in the puttering but fierce Adonis, his rag top safely tucked away so we could revel in the desert sun. We were about to be the proud owners a $160,000 Porsche 996.
WARMUP
Adonis broke down halfway to the track on the big day. But FHM made it. Masterson was in high spirits lounging in the snackbar area and graciously offered us a ride in the rig we would be sailing back to port shortly. “When I was sixteen this guy was totally fucking with me with his car so I end up getting out of the car and we threw down. I don’t know what happened but I woke up on the ground,” Masterson said. Sixteen was a special year in Masterson’s car life. “I apprenticed at a mechanic. I had a huge affinity for cars, I loved to drive them, but I wanted to learn the inner workings of them.” He still does work on his car but leaves the big stuff to the pros.
Masterson has raced for four years and toys around with shifter carts as well, l’il fellas that can pull 2.5 G’s. The 996 was decked out with a TechArt aero kit, chromed exhaust, 19” wheels, leather seats, and suspension coil-over kit and sway bars. A tazer rested in the glove box. “I wish I could have missiles or a laser or a flamethrower,” Masterson said. He has another 996 minus the TechArt package and a truck to haul around his car to races. He even has a girlfriend that’s a decent driver. “She’s an insurance company’s dream,” he says. “She’ll do 70 in the 65 and isn’t changing lanes all of the time.” And she hired out a racing school for his birthday. He took us out on the track and stepped on the gas. The jug of water in FHM's lap smashed our nuts as the needle almost instantaneously kissed 100 and then Masterson maneuvered around the vermicular course with aplomb.
He was more experienced. Adonis had pluck, but his car was better.
But was he ready to get cold-cocked again?
THE RACE
FHM rolled Adonis to the line, the checkered flag dropped and Masterson was blurring down the straightaway and sliding into the first turn before FHM hit 35. An eternity later we hit our maximum cruising speed of 70 and nearly put Adonis on two-wheels in the first turn The engine protested so loudly that the precision German hum coming from the blur of Masterson’s outline in the distance was inaudible. Around turn three, a hubcap flew off. Adonis’s fans barely had time to duck when a second hubcap catapulted through the air. Adonis backfired mightily in the straightaway. A short time later Masterson skated past us in a chicane. Barring a disaster, he had us.
With tears clouding our eyes, FHM handed over Adonis’ pink slip and readied for the long hitch-hike home.
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