OldGreen
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I don't know what possessed me to write this, but I thought you guys would get a kick out of it.
Very often in a lap race, we'll be racing along. The co-dog keeps an eye on the mirrors and the temps while I negotiate slower cars, faster cars, the terrain, etc. We really get caught up in our little world. We are slow enough in the rough that we have time to talk about things like how the truck is handling, the scenery, carne asada in the main pit (that always makes me drive faster) and the like, but everything seems to move along pretty fast. We do haul tail on the graded sections and that gets our adrenaline up for a little while at 88.1 mph, but we are still pretty much tunnel vision and set on doing our assigned tasks. . .then, inevitably, from out of nowhere, it happens. The co-dog says two words that change everything. Their utterance alone causes me to veer sharply off track and hit the brakes as fast as I can. FEAR, PANIC and Anticipation rush over both of us as if we were just told that we had 10 seconds to live. It is one of the scariest, best, worst, most wonderful feelings you can imagine riding along through the whoops at 25mph in a stone stock Ranger. It is more intense than if he had yelled FIRE. Everything is suddenly at risk, but we want it to happen anyway. The ultimate front row seat. So what are those two words?
With his eyes on the mirror and terror in his voice, "Trophy Truck," crackles through the intercom and a chopper suddenly appears flying sideways over us. What a RUSH!
So. . .Thank you. 99.92% of the rocketship drivers out there have our gratitude for giving us a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth. NASCAR doesn't allow us to take our stock Camry on the track and I'm pretty sure that F1 frowns on go-carts during Grand Prix races. . .but just about anyone who has gotten to simultaneously compete in an off-road race AND be a big fan of the sport in the SAME RACE, is going to be hooked for life.
To the .08%. . .well, that's another thread.
Very often in a lap race, we'll be racing along. The co-dog keeps an eye on the mirrors and the temps while I negotiate slower cars, faster cars, the terrain, etc. We really get caught up in our little world. We are slow enough in the rough that we have time to talk about things like how the truck is handling, the scenery, carne asada in the main pit (that always makes me drive faster) and the like, but everything seems to move along pretty fast. We do haul tail on the graded sections and that gets our adrenaline up for a little while at 88.1 mph, but we are still pretty much tunnel vision and set on doing our assigned tasks. . .then, inevitably, from out of nowhere, it happens. The co-dog says two words that change everything. Their utterance alone causes me to veer sharply off track and hit the brakes as fast as I can. FEAR, PANIC and Anticipation rush over both of us as if we were just told that we had 10 seconds to live. It is one of the scariest, best, worst, most wonderful feelings you can imagine riding along through the whoops at 25mph in a stone stock Ranger. It is more intense than if he had yelled FIRE. Everything is suddenly at risk, but we want it to happen anyway. The ultimate front row seat. So what are those two words?
With his eyes on the mirror and terror in his voice, "Trophy Truck," crackles through the intercom and a chopper suddenly appears flying sideways over us. What a RUSH!
So. . .Thank you. 99.92% of the rocketship drivers out there have our gratitude for giving us a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth. NASCAR doesn't allow us to take our stock Camry on the track and I'm pretty sure that F1 frowns on go-carts during Grand Prix races. . .but just about anyone who has gotten to simultaneously compete in an off-road race AND be a big fan of the sport in the SAME RACE, is going to be hooked for life.
To the .08%. . .well, that's another thread.