The commute has turned into an exercise of following the line and practicing cornering, and I'm obsessing over apexes and gear selection again. It's a challenge to not view the other vehicles on Paseo as moving cones, because A) street racing is bad mmmkay? and B) try explaining to a cop that the SUV/Minivan/Truck combo was actually a mobile chicane?

My brain is fuel-soaked and craving the sweet, sweet aroma of unburnt chloroflorocarbons, hot hydrolic fluid and melted rubber. The music on my iPod has made a suspicious shift away from the mellow to something a little more suitable for the Gran Turismo games. I've been practicing full cross steering in the parking lot.

I'm a little race-happy. Can you tell?

The SCCA season kicks off on Saturday with an event at Sandia Motorsports. I hadn't planned on going; the fees for Sandia are usually just a little too much for me to justify, but Adam is ponying up my entry fee. And with that, I am so in.

But -- for the sake of full disclosure -- I should note this will be the annual first event where I show up, gung-ho for another season and then . . . I don't know, life sets in and every other weekend I'll mumble some excuse involving a combination of the words "revision" "deadline" and "sunburn."

But for now? I'm in! The course map is already up and it looks like a friggin' blast (even if it's more a power course, now that event organizer Tom has gone to the dark side of American muscle). I'm just aching to show up in my little black helmet and get Bucky (and his new JDM suspension) onto the track -- and not into the dirt.

Labels: meta, racing