Sitting behind the wheel, the sense of speed is more than tangible. Every minute detail, every piece of loose gravel, I feel them as I slice down the track. As my feet manuever the pedals, I almost instantly feel the metal and vapors react. The harmony of the pistons, the raucous chorus of combustion, the sound of the machine risks drowning out my surroundings. As my velocity increases, so too does my risk of disaster. I push both myself and my vehicle to the limit. A micro-movement of my wrist or a millisecond delay in applying the brake can make all the difference. Any sign of weakness and my challengers will make their attack. Like playing an instrument, I must make every movement in time if I want to succeed. Each lap is a step toward the prize. On the track, the outcome is gray until I pass the black and white. In an instant my fate is sealed. I'll never get tired of the scent of burnt rubber.
A simple blog from a simple mind.