THE RELUCTANT NOVICE : The Ventura 20 : Novices can find out if they’re a budding Al Unser Jr., who started his career in a kart.

For a few brief moments, after slowing to a halt on the Ventura Freeway, you close your eyes and mentally take a fast ride.

You’re on a raceway! Your wheels grip the curves as you flatten the accelerator. A checkered flag and a screaming crowd inspire you to new excesses of speed. Varoom!

Then it’s open the eyes and back to slow and go. Not for you, the Indy. You are not Shirley Muldowney, nor were you ever meant to be.

There is, however, a middle of the road.

To find it, you get off the freeway, head down Harbor Boulevard in Ventura and park your sedan in a lot near the beach. From the sound of engines, you deduce correctly that you have arrived at Jim Hall’s Kart Racing School.

The school is open seven days a week and offers novices the chance to release the race car drivers within them. Students learn the steering, braking and passing techniques of racing karts.

Manager Carol Smith assures you that these babies are not to be found next to the Big Wheels at Toys ‘R’ Us. Big-name racers such as Al Unser Jr. and Michael Andretti, she says, began their careers by driving karts.

“You sit one inch off the ground in a frame only, because there’s no body to the kart, and go about 85 m.p.h.,” she says. “It’s got a 17-horsepower, two-cycle, 100-cc Yamaha engine and an Emmick Express chassis.” Goodness.

Despite the nagging thought that learning to drive fast in Southern California is probably like taking surfing lessons for a trip to Death Valley, you decide to give it a try.

Past the chain-link fence surrounding the school’s parking lot is a paved track in the shape of a man’s hat. There are nine turns in all, several of them streaked with black skid marks and bordered by protective bales of hay and heaps of tires. Six karts are lined up along one stretch. Behind them are 14 chairs where 12 men and two women will have their first lesson on vehicle dynamics.

Now, vehicle dynamics is one of those terms you’re convinced ranks right up there with interpersonal relationships. Even Eric Campbell, the tanned, self-assured racing instructor, seems to consider it best to deal lightly with what the karts can and cannot do.

“The steering radius on a kart is only this far,” he says, turning an imaginary steering wheel in the air. “And if you turn too sharply, it’ll lock up.” The class stares at him intently. “I don’t know what’ll happen then,” he says with a smile, “but I can tell you it won’t be good.”

Campbell reassures the group about safety at his school and in general. Since 1982, according to Smith, more than 9,000 students have taken the course without suffering any serious injuries. Even children, if they are 8 years old and 5 feet tall, can take the class.

After a brief lesson on the meanings of flags and hand signals, you and three fellow students are given racing jackets, helmets and gloves. With your chin strap fastened tightly, you ease yourself into the bucket seat, clutching the wheel at 9 o’clock and 3 o’clock. Campbell gives you the signal to go. You press your foot down tentatively and move onto the track.

The engine is loud, and the asphalt is only inches from your elbow. You approach the first curve cautiously, Campbell’s warnings in your head and your heart pounding in your chest. On your first lap, your top speed wouldn’t get you stopped in a school zone.

A few laps later, though, you’re pushing the accelerator down. This, you think as your kart rips around corners, is what driving was meant to be. Never mind that your fellow students are zooming around you.

Later, assistant instructor Tim Moser tells you that your speed did increase, but your driving form is, well, still a bit haphazard. This is not news. You’ve heard the same thing from your spouse.

After each student has completed the introductory 10 laps, the class is led by Campbell onto the track. For the next half hour, he walks slowly, pointing out the ideal travel line, as well as the paint marks that indicate the best turning spots. Knowing the line of a track and the best places to brake and accelerate, he says, cuts time considerably.

A few more practice laps and then the stopwatch is pulled out for the final 10. “The goal is to get faster each lap,” Campbell says. “Your last lap should be your fastest.”

When it is your turn, you pull down your racing visor and gun your engine. The stopwatch clicks as you put the pedal to the floorboard. You round the first curve confidently, telling yourself that you can outrun the competition if you concentrate. You whiz down the straightaway. You imagine the checkered flag. The excitement. The new track record.

Suddenly, the sky whirls before your eyes like a revolving blue plate. You have spun out. Other than the mega-levels of adrenaline in your system and a slightly bruised ego, you are all right. Edging back onto the track, you take your final two laps, more conservatively this time.

Your best time, Campbell tells you, is better than average. With a few advanced training sessions, he says, which cost $150 for half a day, who knows how far you could go?

You don’t know, but it’s time to go home. You get into your trusty four-door, push aside the Ninja Turtles and lunch boxes on the seats, and put the key into the ignition. Giving the engine an unnecessary gun, you head for the freeway.

Now if everyone would just get out of your way, you think as traffic comes to a standstill, you could show them how it’s done.

* THE PREMISE: There are plenty of things you have never tried. Fun things, dangerous things, character-building things. The Reluctant Novice tries them for you and reports the results. After all, the Novice gets paid to do them--and has no choice in the matter. If you want to tell the Novice where to go, please call us at 658-5547. If we use your idea, we’ll send you a present. This week’s Reluctant Novice is staff writer Aurora Mackey Armstrong.