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The whole notion of heading to sunny Daytona Beach, Florida, on spring break never appealed to me, not even when I was in college in the cold, gray Northeast. The all-night parties, bad dancing, and inordinate amount of vomiting wasn't my idea of a good time. I much preferred my springtime stimulation in vehicular form. You know - jumping cars over enormous frost heaves. And perfecting rally-style e-brake turns through snow-covered hairpins. And seeing if I could get my brake rotors to glow white by the bottom of a badly paved, tree-lined downhill section of my favorite back road.