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Thursday, Jun 22, 2000
June 22, 2000
Fear and Drifting in Las Vegas
Earlier this week I was at yet another driving school. This was my third installment with Derek Daly in Las Vegas. This school was a test of sorts. I've been feeling like I've reached a plateau as a driver. I wanted to see if I could break through to another level, or if I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities.
By the end of the second day, I was making good progress, getting better lap times, driving more consistently, etc. Then I switched cars. The new car had significantly more horsepower, was noticeably lighter, and was a lot more tail happy. In the first few laps, the car was quite a handful. Several times I had to carefully feather back on the throttle, because the car was sliding around. However, after about five laps, I had tamed this wild beast, I was ready to start dialing in some speed.
This last session of the school gave me the answer I was looking for. To drive better and faster, I must to simultaneously do the following: drive very fast and very consistently, study my actions and reactions, study the car's response to my inputs, detect flaws, make decisions about how to correct those flaws, and implement those decisions. Hopping into the new car, I was able to do all of that.
I drove to Vegas and back for this school. This was something of a warm-up for my cross-continent trip later this summer. I was hoping to learn a few lessons which would make the big trip go more smoothly. Here are a few:
- drain the ice chest frequently
- allow time for spontaneous events, like a swim in an alpine lake
- use a radar detector
- avoid recreational activities which alter the eye's response
I intended to take the scenic route on the way down to Vegas. But I took longer than expected to clean out my office at work. It's easy to accumulate a lot of stuff in seven years. So I just shot down I-5, and cut across the Mojave to I-15.
On the way back, I went through Death Valley, the eastern Sierra and Yosemite. The name Death Valley seems like a bit of hyperbole. Compared to the area around the Dead Sea, Death Valley is a garden spot.
Driving through mountains and basins, I got an impression of what the area around Vegas, Lancaster, etc. looked like before people settled. The uninhabited basins have an awesome emptiness.
Thursday, Jun 15, 2000
June 8, 2000
Mr. Toad's Wild Ride
I just read an obscure, old book called "The Wind in the Willows". Okay, it's not that obscure, but it is a little old.
I identified with Mole, who leaves a comfortable, settled life for the adventure of the river. Work has been my burrow for the last 6 years. Eventually, though, I identified with each of the four major characters. Although not too much Toad please!
What inspired me to read the book is the expression "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride". This is sometimes used in the world of motorsports, especially in Britain, to describe particularly dramatic excursions off the race track.
Speaking of wild rides, I was at the race track this week for a two day school. Formula cars are tricky little beasts. They are so responsive that every little driving error is magnified. I think I need to do more of this.
While I was in Vegas for the driving school, a trade show was in town. I ran into 9 different coworkers at the hotel and airport. I heard the concerns of many about the turmoil of the merger. Stepping back from the fray feels so unfamiliar. My primary concern was getting a better run through turn 5 onto the main straight.
Perhaps a short explanation. Racing often looks like a "mash the gas and hang on" sort of affair. Done well, it requires a level of physical performance, balance, finesse and mind-body connection on par with a downhill skier or a salsero. Racing performance is what occupied my imagination in Vegas, not the state of the IT department post-merger, or the confusion of living with disparate ERP systems.
Something I need to work on more is this: living in the moment, seizing the moment. I tend to be deliberative, which is not a bad thing, but sometimes I need more focus on the moment of existence, and more impulse to decide and act at critical moments.
There's a specific set of reason I cite living in the moment. In racing, my budding career as a novice salsero, engineering leadership, and striking up conversation with strangers I need to act more impulsively. To have any hope for improvement in each of these endeavors, I have to make bigger decisions, and make those decisions more rapidly. Greater risks combined with more impulsiveness. Mon dieu!