Rallye Star!

	September 11, 2006 There’s a fine line between chaos and control, between perfection and misjudgment; the synthesis of perfect timing and impeccable skills coming together to pull off the perfect corner, the fastest run, the best drive of your life. It’s better than drugs. It’s better than sex. At 125 MPH you could drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas in one hour and forty five minutes. I could drive from my house to the beach in thirty minutes. At 125 MPH you can go a lot of places and do a lot of things, but at 125 MPH, you can’t lift. Because at 125 MPH, you can die. You don’t want to think about it, but it’s hard not to. Your foot is nailed to the floor and you’re in fifth gear and there’s a corner up ahead. If you were in third or fourth gear you wouldn’t even notice that there was a corner there at all, but at 125 MPH you can’t ignore it because you have to make a decision-do you lift? Do you brake? Do you stay on it? It’s a thin line between control and chaos. The first thing you have to learn about high speed driving is something dictators and potentates know well, that power equals control. As long as you maintain power, you remain in control whether that means swaying hearts or swinging sideways. It’s counterintuitive and you will fight your instincts ever inch of the way. At 125 MPH, cars should never go sideways. I remember my first session of high speed training. I was driving Anakin and I was in fifth gear with Leon screaming into my ear, “DON’T LIFT!” as I came into a corner. I didn’t have it in me then. I lifted and for a second we both thought that perhaps this would be the last thing we remembered. It took a good half mile to regain control of the car. I was shaking. It was a cruel lesson, but one I wouldn’t soon forget. Because at 125 MPH, you’ve already decided what you’re going to do in the next corner long before you even get there. You take that corner like a rocket launch, three, two, one... go. Every movement you make is deliberate, calm and near instinctual. It’s a catechism. the road asks the question and you instinctually respond. Half way through the corner, you’re planning the next because at 125 MPH you’re light years ahead of everything else. You live in your own world, and that world is surprisingly calm. You’re the eye of 250 HP hurricane devouring miles of dirt and leaving dust and violent tire marks in the unsuspecting road. At 125 MPH, you ride the throttle like ship rides the tide. You pass a car, a dirt bike and you feel like a pirate, an outlaw in love with the freedom of speed, the forbidden ecstasy of defying conventions and the terrible consequences of defying physics. It’s almost a sin that you have to shift into fourth gear and that the road eventually ends. Your steed roars and bucks against the feel of pavement on her rubber-soled feet. You remember to breathe and then remember what you’ve just done. Your hands shake and you want more. Back to Diary of a Driver.

September 11, 2006

There’s a fine line between chaos and control, between perfection and misjudgment; the synthesis of perfect timing and impeccable skills coming together to pull off the perfect corner, the fastest run, the best drive of your life. It’s better than drugs. It’s better than sex.

At 125 MPH you could drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas in one hour and forty five minutes. I could drive from my house to the beach in thirty minutes. At 125 MPH you can go a lot of places and do a lot of things, but at 125 MPH, you can’t lift. Because at 125 MPH, you can die.

You don’t want to think about it, but it’s hard not to. Your foot is nailed to the floor and you’re in fifth gear and there’s a corner up ahead. If you were in third or fourth gear you wouldn’t even notice that there was a corner there at all, but at 125 MPH you can’t ignore it because you have to make a decision-do you lift? Do you brake? Do you stay on it?

It’s a thin line between control and chaos. The first thing you have to learn about high speed driving is something dictators and potentates know well, that power equals control. As long as you maintain power, you remain in control whether that means swaying hearts or swinging sideways. It’s counterintuitive and you will fight your instincts ever inch of the way. At 125 MPH, cars should never go sideways.

I remember my first session of high speed training. I was driving Anakin and I was in fifth gear with Leon screaming into my ear, “DON’T LIFT!” as I came into a corner. I didn’t have it in me then. I lifted and for a second we both thought that perhaps this would be the last thing we remembered. It took a good half mile to regain control of the car. I was shaking. It was a cruel lesson, but one I wouldn’t soon forget.

Because at 125 MPH, you’ve already decided what you’re going to do in the next corner long before you even get there. You take that corner like a rocket launch, three, two, one... go. Every movement you make is deliberate, calm and near instinctual. It’s a catechism. the road asks the question and you instinctually respond. Half way through the corner, you’re planning the next because at 125 MPH you’re light years ahead of everything else. You live in your own world, and that world is surprisingly calm. You’re the eye of 250 HP hurricane devouring miles of dirt and leaving dust and violent tire marks in the unsuspecting road.

At 125 MPH, you ride the throttle like ship rides the tide. You pass a car, a dirt bike and you feel like a pirate, an outlaw in love with the freedom of speed, the forbidden ecstasy of defying conventions and the terrible consequences of defying physics.

It’s almost a sin that you have to shift into fourth gear and that the road eventually ends. Your steed roars and bucks against the feel of pavement on her rubber-soled feet. You remember to breathe and then remember what you’ve just done. Your hands shake and you want more.

Back to Diary of a Driver.