Wednesday, August 24, 2005


The question these kids keep asking me since returning from my California adventure is the most trite and useless question I can think of. "What is the coolest thin you did all summer?"

You really want to know? It was a couple hundred miles north of Los Angeles. Far away from Sunset Boulevard and the distractions and daemons. One weekend where I found myself lost in the hills outside Monterey, CA under the hot summer sun. It's the southern end of wine country and it's beautiful and it's secluded and for the most part it's quiet but for one weekend. This weekend The Laguna Seca Racetrack is a magical place because everything is so out of place. The twists and turns of flawless black pavement wrapped around the golden grasses of the rolling hillsides.

I've heard that at 150 miles per hour the world is completely clear. There's room for one thought and one thought only. I had woken at dawn on Saturday to drive 4 hours and stand close enough to the small men on the big bikes that maybe I could faintly make out what the one thought was. A whisper against the roar of engines loud enough to make you feel your larger organs rattle against your ribcage. Somehow I found myself on the roof of one of the racer's RV's watching the best of the best of the best with honors glide by effortlessly. Somehow Sunday rolled around and I found myself in the VIP area for the main event. It didn't matter. It was just me and the bikes. Michael Jordan on my left? Who cares. Brad Pitt on my right? Go back to Angie at home. I'm not phased at all. This was Moto GP. It was in my blood. It was in my soul. And if my entire summer had consisted of raking manure just for that one weekend of heaven on earth it would have been enough to keep this grin plastered to my face.

1 Comments:

Blogger dbhayes said...

You are the motherfucking shit.

And from now on I'll try harder not to write any more really useless/creepy comments for you.

9:38 PM  

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