Thus far with this Substack I’ve been catching you all up on tales of the past. But now you’re all caught up and I can begin to let you in and what’s going in my current karting life. As of right now I am no longer a regular at my home track and no longer race with the folks I have come to know over the past year.
A little while back I had come in for some sweet Monday night double point action. The track was packed and a bunch of us regulars showed up in force. Traffic is great for points but on this night, the attitudes were shit. These kids were determined to burn every kart to the ground and be kings of the ashes.
Despite that, the hot lap boys were determined. The way it works is they want a warm, rubber-laden track. So yes, numbers are good. The problem then becomes traffic blocking your line. The trick is for the hot lapper to hang back and wait for everyone to get far enough ahead of them to have a clean lap. On the setup lap they go wide to create more of a whip when entering the hot lap. The hang back technique is not perfect and many times I have been forced to go wide to accommodate their setup and sacrifice the finish on my lap.
This race was overbooked, 13 racers, 9 of them brand new and craving violence. The first few laps we all took turns prying ourselves off the barriers and avoiding deadly brake checks. All of us regulars were heated. I finally found some clean air and then one of the hot lappers decides he’s going wide for his setup in front of me. This put me in a bind.
Behind me: a pack of ravenous teenagers who I don’t want to slow down for. Ahead of me and coming up fast: a trusted friend I had been racing with for over a year. His kart wasn’t great, he was going pretty slow, I couldn’t tell if it was actually a set up or if he was giving up. In the moment I made a compromise to go wide on the entry for the first turn which would allow the hot lapper to get by me.
Instead he came right at me, full on t-bone with his foot on the floor.
My kart lifted, the seatbelt yanked on my shoulder and stomach. The wind was knocked out of me, I couldn’t breathe. I’d never had that happen while wearing the helmet. I raised my hand, the race stopped. As I was finding my breath, I saw my friend pull around and look at me. I was in shock.
I came off the track with an open mind, maybe his brakes were shot, it happens. He walks up to me with two other hot lappers I know. He says he’s sorry, he didn't realize it was me. He thought I was one of the young terrors out there. He then proceeds to tell me that when he’s going wide that means he’s setting up for a hot lap. Like I didn't fucking know. Like I hadn't ruined perfectly good laps of mine for all of them a hundred times over. And now the two others are echoing his sentiments. He also accused me of bumping his backside, not true. I felt myself getting internally hot while at the same time, my neck was screaming and my stomach felt like it was hit by a truck.
The three of them are all giving me the same lecture in unison. Somehow I came out of this shit on the back foot and outnumbered. I smiled, shook hands with everyone and left knowing I was done racing with them. This meant putting Torrance on ice.
I think for these guys, they see themselves on the side of speed, pushing the karts and themselves to the limit. That’s a noble pursuit. I loved watching them do it. However, trying to do it in bad conditions is pure misery farming and they would do it often. Then they would get pissy, be shitty to the staff and just kill the mood.
Stepping away from the home track also meant stepping away from the GPs and to be honest, I don’t miss it. Again, emotions get too high, people get hurt and take it out on each other. I’ve realized that I have a real allergy to shit sportsmanship. Just being around it makes me feel sick.
For the rest of this year I’m focused on points and currently fine-tuning my footwork. I’m finding my way back to the fun and found some great new folks who wanna do the same.