...more recent posts
Thursday, Jul 20, 2000
Phoenix
July 16-18, 2000
I flew to Phoenix, rather than driving. The drive to Vegas and back gave me
a good dose of the American West. I want to see more of it at ground level,
but not just now.
You know how hot a kitchen gets if someone leaves a hot oven open? Okay,
now stand next to the oven door. Let the heat soak into your body. You're
getting close to understanding Phoenix in July. At 112, it was a little
warmer than usual. I spent the days at Bondurant flogging their Ford
Mustangs. My driving suit was soggy by day's end. Tuesday was the warmest
day. I drank close to a gallon of water, and sweated most of it out.
I was on the southern edge of Phoenix the whole time, including Chandler and
Tempe. The place reeked of shiny newness. Architecturally, it's the
anti-Amsterdam. I had very little time to explore the city center, to find
relics of an older, smaller Phoenix. I fear that with the massive
redevelopment, they may have bulldozed most of it, and Disneyfied the
remainder.
I read about an exhibition at a museum there. Plastics. Seemed to be
oriented towards whimsical industrial design of furniture.
excerpt from a letter
July 20, 2000
> what makes you hungry for driving fast?
> and what makes you feel sated?
(With apologies to Jack Kerouac for appropriating parts of his style ...)
My affair with the automobile has gone through many phases. My first
recollection of automotive hunger is from about the age of five. We were
driving fast in a big, old chevy down a farm road in east Texas. These
narrow, asphalt roads closely follow the contours of the land. I felt a
tingle in my gut as we got light while cresting a rise at about 75. For
some this visceral sensation might bring trepidation and discomfort, but for
me it brought exhilaration and desire. More, more, more!
I've always driven somewhat fast. It's a wonder I survived high school.
Then a few years ago I bought a sedan with a bit of performance. It was a
used 4-door BMW with a strong 6-cylinder and a sport suspension. Shortly
after I bought it, I used the twisty backroads of the Santa Cruz Mountains
as a testing grounds for the car. I wanted to see what this baby would do.
Quickly I realized the car was far better than me. I was driving on the
verge of scaring myself, yet the car wasn't even trying very hard.
I signed up for a performance driving school to lessen the gap between car
and driver. This school allowed us to skid around in and otherwise flog
their cars in the pursuit of knowledge. I came to understand that I, like
almost all drivers, knew very little about the interaction between car,
driver and road. I felt a thirst for this knowledge.
At the end of the school, they piled us into sedans, and took us for some
laps on Sears Point raceway. My east Texas experience was about to be
wildly surpassed. I remember cresting a hill at a speed that felt close to
flight, and seeing the track dive steeply to the left, out of sight. As the
car settled on the far side of the rise, with all four tires howling for
mercy, the driver bent the car's path to the curve of the track, and
accelerated. That was it for me. The knowledge and the glorious
application of that knowledge became a pursuit.
One of my early influences was an instructor who had a sports psychology
approach to driving. His method incorporated Tai-Chi-like balance/centering
exercises, visual exercises, positive imagery (you will drive with elan),
visualization (extend your awareness to the four contact patches). Once, at
Sears Point again, I felt it all come together. I was connecting arcs of
gentle four-wheel drift, in complete control and complete awareness,
mastering tremendous forces with balance and grace. Time slowed.
Since then, I have driven many cars, on many race tracks. I have taught and
learned. I've won and lost races. And I've reached something of a plateau.
To become a better, faster driver, I need to put much more time, money and
effort into it. Recently in Las Vegas I got a glimpse of performing at a
higher level. I know I can do it, but will I go down that path?
The questions you asked me are ones I have been asking myself. Hearing it
from someone else, and my recent readings helped trigger a more concise
answer. Performance in the moment, with the outcome always suspended in
that moment, is the fundamental thing, and driving a race car is one way to
achieve this state. I may decide that I am satisfied with my current
plateau as a driver, and that I will seek new climbs in other areas.
Perhaps I have already made that decision.
.