Spend enough time around track day people and you eventually realise we have our own language. It’s not so much a technical language, that said it would be rather useful. What I’m talking about is the strange little phrases we all say with complete confidence, despite the fact they make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

For example:

“I’m just going to take it easy today.”

This is usually said by someone standing beside a car with semi-slick tyres, upgraded brakes, a helmet under one arm and the unmistakable expression of a person who has already decided to chase their PB.

Nobody believes you, not even you.

Then there’s:

“I’m not spending any more money on the car.”

Possibly the least credible sentence ever spoken in a garage. I find it is generally followed within 72 hours by: “Well, technically, brakes are safety.”

Then: “Tyres are really a consumable.”

Then: “I got a very good deal.”

And finally: “It would have been stupid not to buy it.”

Track day economics is a magnificent thing, those $6 coffees are outrageous, yet laying out $1,900 set of tyres? Now that’s all down as essential.

We also love saying: “It’s basically standard.”

This can mean almost anything. Different suspension, wheels, brakes, exhaust, tune, seats and aero? Basically standard. At this point, “standard” appears to mean the car still has the same registration number.

Another favourite: “I don’t care about lap times.”

Of course you don’t. That’s why you know your best lap to three decimal places and can tell me exactly where you lost four tenths in 2025.

Then there’s the weather obsession. Normal people check the forecast because they want to know whether to take an umbrella. Track day people check six weather apps, compare radar maps, study wind direction and then announce:

“It’ll blow over.” We all know it rarely blows over. And if it does? “Perfect conditions.”

If it rains? “Good opportunity to learn car control.”

If it’s 39 degrees? “Good test for the cooling system.” We see often there is no bad weather there’s only new explanations.

We also have a very flexible relationship with the phrase: “One more session.”

One more session is rarely one more session. It is one more session, followed by “I’ll just check the pressures,” followed by another session, followed by “I may as well use the fuel,” followed by one final session that is absolutely, definitely, unquestionably the last one. Until someone says: “Track’s quiet.” And off we go again.

Perhaps my favourite, though, is this: “I’ll leave early.” We all know you won’t.

You’ll pack up slowly, talk to six people, compare tyre wear with someone you met three hours ago, stand beside a bonnet discussing brake fluid, tell everyone you’re leaving, then remain in the pit lane for another 45 minutes.

Because that is track day life and the cars are part of it, the driving is part of it, but so is the strange language, the terrible financial logic, the weather denial and the collective ability to turn “one quick session” into an entire day.

And somehow, we all understand each other perfectly.