Fly Me To The Moon (In Other Words)
The dull greenish glow of each street light passes overhead with a rhythmic time similar to those white strips of lane markings passing beneath. Although the temperature is cooling from the scorching heat of the setting sun, it's still quite warm for this time of the summer; it is an unusually hot night. But with the power operated canvas top tucked neatly into the rear, the hot dry air appears cool to the skin as it tumbles over the sloping windshield, into the cabin, and all around the leather trimmed interior. Neil Sedaka is blaring away on the Nakamichi, drowing out the incessant thump...thump...thump... of the expansion joints from the old concrete road beneath the thin layer of hastily paved asphalt. A strange choice in music to some, but to him -- a cornball at heart with an eclectic taste in music -- it was a desperation attempt to take his mind off the trainwreck that has become his lifeOh Carol,
I am but a fool.
Darling I love you
Though you treat me cruel.
To many, it's disheartening...he lives in some imaginary world conjured up from bits and pieces of old black and white movies and cheesy songs written by dead musicians from an era long lost in the annals of time. And yet for some reason he finds comfort in it...hope? The idea that somewhere else, someplace different, someone new, may hold the answers to the questions he's asked his whole life. So he pushes on, with no destination, no origin. With him he brings a full tank of gas, the lingering memory of a time filled with hapiness and joy, and the faint hope that somewhere down this lonely road, he'll find the answers.
MotoGP was a blast. There was a nice cool onshore breeze off the Pacific to keep the temperatures down. In fact, it got quite chilly late in the day as we sat on the hill between turns 10 & 4. Rossi was just his typical unbelievable self. After setting the tone with comments of low safety margins and "old-school" track layout and difficulty learning the track, he proceeds to qualify second overall. But of course. He goes through 3 practice sessions floundering in 9th or so in the 1:25's and in the last five minutes of the final practice session proceeds to blast through a 1:23 flat, second only to Nicky Hayden's 1:22.8. Unbelievable. And so was the noise. Earplugs were the order of the day, as 5 minutes was enough to tempt a headache. But the sound was thrilling -- the open pipes from Honda's RC211V was just nuts! Not as loud as the horrific wailing of the Ferrari 550 Maranellos @ ALMS, but still quite an experience to behold. And the crowds were outrageous. At least twice as large as a World Superbike event. I can't wait until tomorrow -- sheez, I have to be outta here in like three and a half hours. Time to sleep.
posted by VirtualErn @ 11:14 PM
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3 Comments:
should i be reading into these little stories?
Hope that MotoGP was fun. I wish I could've gone with y'all.
Bev, you can if you want to.
Angelo, MotoGP was a blast. Sorry dude, I didn't know you were into that. We'll go next year...they're coming back!!
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