Atalae

Alas, track day.  It’s what I [currently] live for. It is not a cheap hobby at all.  It is not a safe hobby either. Really, it’s not a very attractive hobby. At the end of the day, I’m hot, sweaty, physically tired, mentally exhausted, and I’m a couple hundred dollars poorer. It’s a lot like running from a thief,  getting caught, being thrown around for a good bit, and then having your wallet taken. I play with my life, and I lose some money. Sounds great!

There isn’t any prize for being fast nor is there any real benefit to  passing everyone on the course (not like I can pass people anyway). At this point, if you’ve never taken a car to a track before, you may be thinking, “This really doesn’t sound fun at all.  Why would anyone want to do this?”

If you have been to the track, you’ll probably agree with me.  It’s worth it. Every second on the track is glorious. Absolutely, glorious. There is an absolute thrill of speed. It’s not just the speed, though. There’s a sense of urgent control.  It’s very unlike rollercoasters which rag doll me about, I  control all the crucial factors: speed, turning, and courage level.  Track days are more than just a one minute wonderride;  a typical track day yields multiple 20 minute sessions.

Once I’ve pulled off the track, and I’ve set course for home, I find myself satisfied in the same way that one may be satisfied after a large Thanksgiving dinner: complete with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, ham, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. IThe satisfaction completely supressed the need to speed on the streets. There’s no reason to and there’s literally no joy in it.  The incentive to not speed is huge: a speeding ticket will cost about $100 – the same price as one track day. I think the choice is pretty obvious.  Track day wins in this match up  (Plus insurance doesn’t go up.)

With all that said, I wish I could attend a track day every day. Maybe I’ll have to build my own private track …