Drag Racing Dreams

My brother-in-law stopped by today on his way to race his dragster at Rocky Mountain Raceway. As he's leaving, he has the nerve to ask me if I'm ready to go, too. Well, I may not have been ready to go right at that very moment, but I am ready to go. I want to race a dragster!

At the beginning of the drag racing season, dear brother-in-law (we'll call him Bil) had me all stoked up to race. He even had me working on a training device teaching me how to get the best reaction time. This mean that you want to be off the starting line exactly when the light turns green, but not before. I was getting better at it, too.

Then, for some reason, Bil decided to offer my race car, the car he had promised I could race, to Sling. Then the car had Bil's wife's name painted on the side of it, and now she races it. I lost my enthusiasm to race it.

Well, now it's halfway through race season, and I still haven't raced that car. Everybody keeps telling me how powerful it is, and how scary it would be.

Good! Just what I need. Scary fast. For some reason, I have this burning desire to do things that would scare the crap out of me. I hate myself for making me do them at the time I'm doing them, but I keep going back for more.

Getting my bike in the first place was scary. I hadn't ridden since I was twelve. And that was pretty casual and very occasional. Now I'm obsessed with cycling. Descending on my bike faster than 18 mph used to scare me to death, but now I try to go as fast as I can possibly go. Road bike racing scared me. I tried it and loved it. Crits scared me. I've done one now, and I can't wait until next time.

So naturally I want to push the limits of speed in a dragster.

Maybe next I'll decide to bungee jump! Who knows? Just don't dare me to do it. I'm likely to want to do anything scary enough someone has to dare me to do.