i miss having a racecar. i miss the dichotomy of being at once mindless and completeley aware and sensory, of scraping for every millisecond of laptime you can find, of flirting with perfection, if even for only one corner. motorsport entered my life after a long period of feeling like i had given myself away, like i had no corner into which to retreat which was my own, and after i found the sweet mistress dopamine yet again (she and i have been on and off lovers for years; bicycle racing, surfing, etc) i made sweet selfish love to her every chance i had….
i’m on a break from the track now. for how long, i don’t know. probably not for more than 3 years while other, more pressing and ultimately important priorities get attended to. i suppress the longing. i work on not being a complaining, whining bastard and torturing my loved ones with the total decadent selfishness of this pursuit. but i know i’ll be back, in a context that can be managed. right now i’ll just stay lashed to the mast while her song calls for me, and eagerly await our reunion.