Brett Phillips isn’t the only departure bay area residents are mourning today.
After more than 40 years, Grand Prix Tampa—the 15-acre fun land formerly known as Malibu Grand Prix—is shutting down its tracks and closing its doors for good. Goodbye go-karts, so long arcade, bon voyage batting cages.
Owners Christian and Carlos Yepes, who purchased the business in December 2021, are planning to erect 11 three-story apartment buildings with 298 units on the property. A tale increasingly more common around these parts as of late.
Obviously, to think Malibu Grand Prix (its preferred nomenclature for anyone old enough to feel bummed about this) could last forever would be naïve. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take the day to reminisce on its greatest pastimes. For every birthday party, celebration and jamboree to grace its presence came an abundance of preteen hijinks. It’s only right we blog homage to the childhood traditions we recall so fondly.
Scouting out your go-kart of choice while waiting in line
If it wasn’t your first Grand Prix rodeo, you knew that some cars went faster than others. And even more so, some cars ran painstakingly slow. It was your profound duty to locate the roadrunners and avoid the jalopies at all costs. And when the time came, perform an all-out sprint to beat your friends to the elite vessels.
Demolishing your friends on the go-kart track
In the occasion that you didn’t get one of the aforementioned prime vessels, winning the race was no longer a priority. Your new main objective was to become a revving nightmare for anyone with lofty ambitions of finishing on top. Sometimes this would mean getting lapped. But as long as you spun out Jackie, Age 9 with a devastating side swipe, your mission was accomplished.
Driving the wrong way on the go-kart track
Of course, there were only so many laps around the track that your deviant, childhood self could bare before becoming concretely bored with following any rules at all. In which case the most savage option was to turn around entirely and raise complete hell for employees and kids alike.
Citing a mandatory Happy Gilmore reference in the batting cages
364 more days until next year’s hockey tryouts.
Clipping raptors in Jurassic Park Arcade
God bless any video game that let young adolescents live out their wildest, most violent Isla Sorna fantasy.
Successfully putting through “The Windmill of Death” on your first try
It was a fine line between a hole-in-one and a tear-inducing quadruple bogey.
Repurposing your putter into a miniature golf driver
There was always that one friend who took a gigantic whack after finishing the 18th hole.
Swapping stories in the car ride home
Apologies to any former owners and operators trembling through a mild case of PTSD reading this. But if you somehow managed to not get kicked out, the best part was always the car ride home. Chiding your friends who beefed it on the track. Feeling like a bona fide Tiger Woods after going historically low in putt-putt. It was a good run for Grand Prix Tampa. We may never see the likes of it again.