Drifting, they call it. It's the latest no-rules car fun in vacant US car parks. Is it coming our way, asks Conor Twomey in Texas
The 8-litre, V10 Dodge Viper is a pretty impressive machine by anyone's standards. So it stands to reason that the racing-spec Dodge Viper, with its spoilers and vents and wings and 700+ horsepower is nothing short of eye-popping.
Now picture that Super-Viper coming straight at you. At about 50 mph. Sideways. Kicking up the cones that mark the edge of the course and missing you by about three feet.
Your ears hurt from the bellow of its huge exhausts. The smell of tortured clutch and tyres fills your nostrils. Burnt rubber and dust sticks to your face.
But this isn't a horrible racing accident at Le Mans. It's the car park of Houston's Reliant Stadium and the Viper driver has made me wet my pants on purpose. Welcome to the world of drifting, America's newest and fastest growing motorsport.
It's loud. It's wild. And it's about to get very big indeed.
Most people here have never heard of drifting, and this is only the second Formula D event ever to be staged in the US.
Drifting has its origins in the car parks of Japan, when miscreant youths in powerful, rear-drive Toyota Supras and Nissan 300ZXs began competing to see who could maintain a controlled power-slide for the longest.
If you've ever seen a car come screeching around a street corner in a film or a driver give his pick-up too much welly at a wet junction, then you already have an idea of what drifting is about. Competitors simply have to "drift" their cars sideways around a figure-of-eight course while being scored by judges on style, smoothness and control.
It's a bit like freestyle snowboarding in that time and speed don't really matter. It's all about how good you look out there.
American car fanatics, jaded with boring track and mind-numbing oval racing, are flocking to this new form of automotive expression. There are no clocks, no photo-finishes, no pit-lane violations, no stupid rules.
It's a much more intimate experience, too, as all the action happens just a few feet from you and the pace is relentless. Car after car comes charging down the track and, after seven hours of non-stop competition, there's a thick, black layer of expensive rubber on the ground.
Between heats, drivers wander around talking with spectators and poking into each others cars. Fans don't need security clearance and a background check to get an autograph. One guy even got his underpants signed by poking his backside through the window of a car just before it left the pits to compete.
The atmosphere is relaxed and the fans revel in the easy-going madness.
Unlike any other form of motorsport I can think of, many of the cars are driven to and from the events. To compete at the top level, all you need is a roll cage and proper racing seatbelts, as well as the appropriate attire, so pretty much all the cars are road-legal.
Take local lunatic Derrick Rogers, who drove his $750, 1976 Chevy El Camino pick-up to the event and actually made it to the final rounds, competing in the same league as a custom-built Nissan 350Z, a factory-backed Pontiac GTO and that GT-spec Viper which cost a hundred times what the old El Camino is worth.
Drifting isn't about having a massive budget. It's really just down to the skill of the driver.
It isn't difficult to get involved. As long as you've got something that's rear-wheel-drive with a bit of power and $50 to spare, you can turn up to one of the novice Drift Show-Off events, find out if you're any good or not and maybe get a little tuition.
Unfortunately, when people get hooked they are soon, if unsponsored, munching through a lot of tyres, clutches and driveshafts. It's only a matter of time before something substantial goes pop.
Some do the smart thing and buy an old rear-drive clunker - the mid-1980s Corolla fastback seemed particularly popular - and use that to compete instead of their daily driver.
It may sound rather dangerous, but drifting is actually one of the safer motorsports. Most cars are doing no more than 40 mph when the drivers throw them sideways - this is usually achieved by standing on the gas before "kicking", or suddenly releasing the clutch in third gear. Much of that speed is scrubbed off once the car begins its slide sideways.
The Viper was travelling a bit faster, partly because of its brutal power and partly because of the exceptional skill of its driver and overall event winner, Samuel Hubinette.
Seeing these cars slither with balletic grace around the course might lead you to believe that drifting is easy, especially when you learn that second-place driver Ken Gushi is just 17 and still in high school.
But don't let this fool you. The elegance of a good drift belies the skill involved in maintaining the perfect powerslide. Even the top drivers get it wrong and spin out from time to time, especially when they run in tandem.
Yup, you heard right! The best 16 cars are run off against each other two at a time, with both drivers trying to get more sideways and hold their slide longer than their competitor. Often they're only a foot or two apart and it's simply breathtaking to watch.
When the cars do spin out, they tend to just slide to an abrupt halt or merely "kiss" the barrier. There's no significant damage and they never come close to rolling over or getting wrecked.
What makes drifting stand out is the people involved in it. I was supposed to ride with pro-drifter Ryan Hampton in his new, purpose-built Mazda RX-8, but it blew up the day before he was to come to Houston, leaving him struggling with a battered old Miata instead.
With his competition long over and beer in hand, he tells me that of all the motorsports he's been involved in, including IRL and Le Mans, he likes drifting best. "They're my kind of people," he laughs as we watch the three Japanese judges embark on a three-car drifting demonstration, with one "lucky" spectator on board for the vomit-inducing ride.
The judges may not have a word of English, but they still know how to work the crowd, bounding around with demented energy and showing off spectacular driving skills on their exhibition laps. By the end of the day, everyone is exhausted but impressed.
We're sunburnt, sweaty and covered in crud. But secretly we're thinking where and when we can have a go ourselves. It's loud, wild, completely intoxicating - and it's only a matter of time before it takes off in Ireland.