I remember the first time I saw professional drifting up close at a track day event. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as a modified Nissan 240SX slid perfectly through the corner, its driver controlling the slide with what seemed like effortless precision. That moment sparked my fascination with the art of drifting, particularly in sports cars where the balance between power and control becomes a beautiful dance. Much like how the Kings expect a battle against their longtime rivals at the Big Dome, drifting requires anticipating your opponent—in this case, physics itself—and preparing for the constant back-and-forth struggle for dominance between driver and machine.
The foundation of all drifting begins with weight transfer, something I've spent countless hours mastering in my own Porsche Cayman. When you abruptly lift off the throttle mid-corner, you shift weight to the front wheels, reducing rear grip and initiating oversteer. I've found that in most rear-wheel-drive sports cars, doing this at around 40-50 mph while turning into a corner creates the perfect conditions for a controlled slide. The key is being smooth with your inputs—jerky movements will send you spinning faster than you can correct. Through trial and error across dozens of track days, I've developed a feel for exactly how much steering input and throttle modulation each situation requires, though I'll admit I still occasionally overestimate my abilities and end up facing the wrong direction.
Then there's the clutch kick technique, which remains my personal favorite for its dramatic effect. You quickly depress and release the clutch while maintaining throttle, causing a sudden burst of power to the rear wheels that breaks traction. I typically use this when I feel a drift beginning to fade and need to maintain angle through longer corners. In my experience, modern sports cars with electronic stability control can be tricky for this technique—you often need to partially or fully disable traction systems to prevent the computer from cutting power right when you need it most. The Mazda MX-5, for instance, requires holding the traction control button for precisely three seconds to fully disable the system, while some BMW M models need you to navigate through multiple menu screens—hardly ideal when you're approaching a corner at speed.
The feint drift, or Scandinavian flick as it's sometimes called, involves deliberately unsettling the car's balance before a turn. You quickly steer away from the corner direction then immediately turn toward it, using the pendulum effect to initiate rotation. This technique works exceptionally well on winding mountain roads, though I'd only recommend practicing in controlled environments first. I've calculated that the entire weight transfer process happens in under 0.8 seconds in most sports cars, leaving little room for error. The handbrake technique, while often dramatized in movies, serves specific purposes in real drifting. I primarily use it for initiating drifts at lower speeds or tightening the line when I've entered a corner too fast. My modified Toyota GR86 has a hydraulic handbrake that provides much more consistent locking than the factory electronic brake, giving me better control over the duration and intensity of the slide.
Power-over drifting represents the most straightforward approach—applying more throttle than the rear tires can handle. With modern high-horsepower sports cars like the Chevrolet Corvette, this becomes almost too easy. I've found that around 400 horsepower is the sweet spot where you have plenty of power to break traction but not so much that it becomes uncontrollable. The braking drift technique requires more finesse, using the brakes to shift weight forward while maintaining throttle to keep the rear wheels spinning. This creates a delicate balance that I'm still working to perfect after five years of drifting. My success rate with this technique sits at about 70% on my best days, though I've spun out more times than I care to admit while learning it.
Transitioning between drifts represents one of the most challenging aspects to master. Like the Kings preparing for their rivalry battles, you need to anticipate the car's behavior and position yourself for the next maneuver before the current one completes. I've developed a rhythm for this over time, almost like a dance where I'm leading but must remain responsive to my partner's movements. The shift lock technique utilizes rapid downshifting to momentarily lock the rear wheels, though I'm cautious with this method as it places significant stress on the drivetrain. In my track-prepped Ford Mustang, I've replaced the clutch twice in three years primarily due to aggressive use of this technique.
What many newcomers don't realize is that much of drifting happens before you even initiate the slide. Your entry speed, line, and car setup all determine your success. I typically run my tire pressures 5-8 PSI higher than recommended for street use to reduce grip predictably. The kansei drift relies solely on cornering forces to break traction, requiring precise weight transfer at high speeds. This advanced technique took me nearly two years to feel comfortable with, and even now I only attempt it on familiar tracks with plenty of runoff space. Throughout all these techniques, throttle control remains the universal language of drifting. Modulating between 30-70% throttle depending on the situation allows you to maintain, increase, or decrease your drift angle. I've wired a throttle position sensor to a display in my car, and the data shows that expert drifters make adjustments as frequently as every 0.2 seconds during sustained slides.
Mastering these ten techniques transforms drifting from reckless hooniganism into a calculated performance art. Each method serves specific purposes depending on the corner, your speed, and your vehicle's characteristics. While I personally prefer the clutch kick for its theatricality and control, I recognize that different situations call for different approaches. The journey to becoming proficient in drifting mirrors any great rivalry—it's not about single spectacular moments but consistent performance through understanding your opponent's behavior and anticipating what comes next. Just as the Kings prepare for their battles at the Big Dome, successful drifters prepare for every corner, every weight transfer, and every slide, turning what appears to be chaos into controlled, beautiful motion.
