Monday, March 5, 2007

Need for speed, need for hair dye...

So, you may be thinking that my husband's name, Speedy, came from a speeding ticket, or just his everyday driving style. You'd be wrong. Speedy's name comes from the fact that he races UMP open-wheel on dirt tracks. Now, the racing season ends late October, but since he just got into racing again after being off for a few years, I had forgotten how quickly the new season can sneak up on me.

We spent Saturday night at the local track testing the new welds, tachs, setup, etc. New welds? Yep, new welds. You see, last fall Speedy was going around the track pretty good (on three, sometimes two wheels) when suddenly the rear end dropped, tires went flat and generally added to my ever-graying hair. Come to find out, the welds broke right behind the drivers seat. The welds that held the transmission and rear-end mechanics in place.

Anywho, this past Saturday night was filled with red dirt underfoot, major engine roars that make your heart rate increase from the power, cars racing and sliding around a 1/4 mile track going somewhere near 150 mph and the excitement that fills the pits as a new racing year begins. That's right 150 miles. per. hour. More gray hair pops out of my head just thinking of that. Saturday was actually pretty fun for me as Speedy wasn't really racing anyone and noone wants to ruin their new car body work on a practice session. :) This really doesn't stop them from nudging one another every now and then, they're just more careful doing it.

So, in another few weeks, we'll be heading out to race for the money. Though anyone right in the head will realize that it's a big joke if you think you'll get rich racing dirt track. The engine Speedy & his dad built would sell for around $36,000. Did you get that? That's three zeros after the thirty-six. And don't even get me started on how much the racing fuel costs. But you know what? I'm damn proud of him. He's been through a lot in this life. He has no other hobbies, doesn't hunt, doesn't fish, doesn't go out partying with the guys and even agrees to not race in the first one of the season so that I can go to my yearly sabbatical Art Festival. If slinging himself around a 1/4 mile dirt track going 150 mph with only a bit of metal separating him from another car is what rocks his boat, then I say ROCK ON! There are worse ways to spend a Saturday night. If you have any questions about the racing life, let me know & I'll see what I can do about getting you an answer. (Like what kind of tranquilizer I take, etc.)

Here's a picture of Speedy getting ready to hit the track. I forgot my regular digital, so this one's from the cell phone camera.

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