On the weekends, Ryan transforms into a speed demon, burning rubber in his micro-midget car at the Delta Speedway in Stockton. Ryan is one of the youngest micro-midget racers at the track, regularly competing against racers at least twice his age. He currently ranks fourth at the speedway, and nabbed first place—along with a $500 check and $500 worth of gift certificates—in this year's Turkey Bowl on Nov. 20 and 21.

The midget class of racing cars resembles a cross between a go-cart and a miniaturized car. Most run on methanol rather than gasoline.

The original midget racecars were developed during the 1930s as a less expensive alternative to the standard racecar. Today, there are several types of midget cars of varying sizes: the full-size midget, the three-quarter midget, the half-midget, the micro-midget and the quarter-midget. The smallest of the cars, the quarter- midget is a popular entryway for young people to get into auto racing.

According to his parents, Connie and Robert, Ryan exhibited a preternatural need for speed. By the age of 2 1/2 he was already riding a two-wheel bicycle sans training wheels. At age 5, he acquired his first quarter-midget car.

"Dad and I were going to the paint store, and I saw a quarter-midget on the back of a truck," Ryan says. "I really wanted one, so dad bought me one."

Although both father and son were eager to begin racing, Connie was a bit nervous about the idea at first. But at the encouragement and insistence of Robert, she overcame her early reservations.

Over the next six years, Ryan's racing would take him all around the country, and even to Canada. He would win numerous awards and championships, including the Southwest Series in 2000 and 2001. And along the way, the young racer met a special friend by the name of Jay Gradia.

Fueling A Friendship

In 1998, at one of his early races in Pomona, Gradia saw Ryan and Robert struggling with the quarter-midget, and went over to lend them a hand. They began making small talk, and discovered they both lived in San Jose.

"We hit it off right away," Ryan says.

At age 21, Gradia was considerably older than Ryan, who was eight at the time. But the age difference made little impact on their companionship.

"This guy was amazing," Connie says. "At 21, he could have been doing all kinds of things that 21-year-olds do, but instead he chose to hang out with Ryan. He helped him work on his car, he took him to the race track ... they were like brothers."

As a former quarter-midget racer, Gradia would also give advice to his young friend. To teach Ryan to handle a slippery road, he would take him to the racetrack in the pouring rain. Gradia showed Ryan how to maintain his car and fix common mechanical problems.

But most of all, he was Ryan's role model and one of his best friends. The Rusconis repeatedly offered him money for his mechanical expertise, but Jay refused. He would only accept Connie's home-cooked meals as payment.

In 2000, Robert and Connie entrusted their son in Gradia's care during a trip to Florida for the Eastern Grand Nationals, one of the biggest quarter-midget races, where Ryan would receive the honor of driving for manufacturer Ted Pfizer.

Although the race went well, Ryan left with more than a trophy—he came down with a bad case of the flu.

"One of the moms kept in contact with me," Connie says. "She took care of him. The moms take care of each other's kids."

And, Connie adds, knowing that Gradia was with her son alleviated her concerns about his health.

"He was like a member of the family," she says.

Although Gradia tried to prepare Ryan for the unexpected twists and turns of the racetrack, there was one hurdle for which he couldn't prepare his young companion—his unexpected death. Ironically, after braving the occasional flips and crashes that occur in quarter-midget racing, Gradia died off the racetrack at the hand of a reckless driver.

On Aug. 22, 2001, while coming back from a race, Gradia's tire blew out. To avoid an accident, he pulled over to the side of the road. After he had pulled over, a car veered off to the side of the road and struck him. At the age of 26, he was dead.

Ryan was devastated by the loss of his dear friend. He continued to race quarter-midgets, but his heart was not into it anymore.

"I started doing badly, so I took the year off," he says. Racing the tiny cars that his friend loved, Ryan says, brought back memories of Gradia.

During his break, Ryan took a trip to Hawaii with his family to relax and recover from the tragedy. Still reeling from his friend's untimely death, and growing too old for the sport anyway, Ryan decided not to return to quarter-midget racing. In 2002, he sold off his equipment, and turned his attention to a new type of speed machine—the larger and faster micro-midget.

Bigger and Faster

While a quarter-midget has about 15 horsepower, a micro-midget has about 105 horsepower. The quarter-midget runs on asphalt, while the micro-midget runs on dirt. These differences might seem minor to the layperson, but they are significant to the racer.

"It took me about a year to get used to the micro-midget," Ryan says. "I got good towards June, and I won two races."

Before Ryan could even start racing, his mother wanted to do everything she could to ensure his safety. Ryan was outfitted with all the standard safety equipment: helmet, fire-resistant suit and undergarment, head restraint, gloves and special shoes. But Connie took her protectiveness one step further, and had a priest from St. Christopher's bless the micro-midget before it even hit the track.

The one event that divine intervention could not prevent was the inevitable mid-race flip, which is a rite of passage among micro-midget racers. When he began racing, Ryan says he dreaded his first flip. For the first year, he even managed to finish the season flip-free.

But Ryan could not remain immune to the hazards of racing forever. During his second season, he flipped not once, but two times back to back. Fortunately, he was not seriously injured in either instance.

"When I first started, I was scared because I didn't want to flip," he says. "But it actually wasn't that bad. And afterward, I started getting more aggressive in my racing."

Ryan's first racecar cartwheel may have left him a savvier racer, but it could not prevent him from flying head over heels in his next race. Unbeknownst to him, Ryan's brakes went out during the race. When the car in front of him stopped suddenly, the micro-midget aficionado realized he couldn't halt his car. To avoid hitting the other racer, Ryan swerved, missing the body of the car but hitting the wheel. Ryan and his micro-midget turned over. Fortunately, only the wing of the car was damaged.

Because flipping is so common among micro-midget racers, drivers take extra precautions to prevent injuries. To prevent their arms from instinctively reaching out in the event of a flip, racers attach their wrists to a special arm restraint. Their helmets are also attached to the car to prevent neck injuries. And at every race, an ambulance is on hand in case of a serious accident.

"I have to say, it's an organized sport," Connie says.

The emergency services team isn't the only aspect of the sport that is well organized. Ryan's fan base is also well prepared to make sure everything goes smoothly. Although his vision is somewhat impaired, Ryan's grandfather, Eugene Rusconi, is the designated videographer and occasional financial sponsor. The Rusconi women—Connie and Ryan's three sisters, Taylor, Heidi and Shelby—prepare food, make sure their racer is well hydrated before getting behind the wheel, keep track of times and offer suggestions. Robert is also a valuable source of feedback, giving his son tips to improve his scores. At 15 months, William, the youngest Rusconi, is too little to help out with chores, but his affable smile is just the right boost to encourage Ryan to keep aiming high.

"It's a family event," Connie says. "Everyone in the family has a part. And he has the best fan club."

Down New Roads

In Gradia's absence, Sean Gilgo, who was one of Gradia's friends, has taken on the role of racing mentor and companion. But Ryan's first racing friend is far from forgotten. Ryan selected 98 as his racing number, in part to commemorate the year he first met Gradia.

The other reason Ryan selected the number 98 is because it was the number of his uncle, Joe Leonard, who raced Indy cars. Photos of Leonard's racing days hang alongside pictures of his nephew in the Rusconi family's "trophy room." After nine years of racing, Ryan has accumulated so many trophies and awards that they require nearly an entire room of their own.

Even with all of Ryan's speedway accomplishments, few of his classmates know about his passion for racing. Modest and almost shy, Ryan doesn't like to brag. And when he has divulged his hobby, he has encountered a few naysayers.

"Some of my friends make fun of me," he says. "They say racing isn't a sport."

But Connie, for one, wholeheartedly disagrees.

"[People who say racing isn't a sport] don't even know the half of it," she says. "Ryan has to lift weights for upper-body strength. When he gets off the racetrack, he's sweating. It's exhausting."

Before each race, Ryan has to make sure he drinks plenty of water, gets a good night sleep and eats a well-balanced meal. Driving a car with no power steering on a dirt road requires strong arms and keen concentration.

Ryan, however, doesn't reserve all of his attention and energy for racing. At Bellarmine, he maintains a 3.8 grade point average, with science and art as his favorite subjects. In college, Ryan is considering a major in engineering. Learning how to maintain his midgets has given him a leg up in the sciences, he says.

In the future, Ryan says he wouldn't mind racing cars for NASCAR. But, as the son of a California Highway Patrol officer, he knows better than to engage in reckless driving off the racetrack.

"We have told him, 'One speeding ticket and that's it,'" Robert says. If he's tempted, his line is going to be, 'I'll meet you at the racetrack.'"

But mother and father aren't too worried about Ryan being a highway hazard once he obtains his drivers' license.

"He's a responsible kid," Robert says.