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In Pit Row
April 3, 2005
Honda Grand Prix in St
The following is a view and a slightly baked opinion of a neophyte racing, sliding car who does not know a spark plug from a flux-capacitor.
Our hero is PJ Chesson, a 26-year-old race car driver from the horse country of NJ. This is his second year racing in the Menards Infiniti PRO Series, which is like a minor league of IndyCar. He had 3 straight wins and 5 wins in his first year racing on the track. PJ is running a new team this year and things have been tough, he crashed during qualifying for the first two races of the season. (Drivers are responsible for their own injuries if they occur outside of the actual race). The team is a real step up from his rookie season and the car reflects that. His girlfriend is Echo Johnson, she’s older than PJ (though I’m not sure where to ask her) and is a former Playboy model from Austin, Texas.
PJ seemed unaffected by the same feelings I had when I entered the ‘hot hole’. My first thought approaching these little fighter jets, with one extra wheel, is something like ‘you gotta be a football player to keep up with the little f*ckers’….The anthem is over, over. end with smart butchers and American Idol hack. Honorary founder is Andrew Firestone, and I’m sorry to say that it looks like the Queer Eye Guys have found another one. The engines roar to life and Echo and I are told to get off the track, an order we ignore because it was said by the lower authority… The second heat is over and the green flag goes up, they say. , even who the hell knows, is too loud and the Florida sun is too bright to notice the little things. I will say dear readers in all honesty and full disclosure that I recovered well on Friday night in New York, although I had a trip to think about.
As PJ predicted that there was a disaster in the opening lap, apparently the first turn is at the end of the same period and it has a beautiful fur when the whole field is full. A young Brazilian named Jamie Camara was held up by 3 seconds in the race, although I couldn’t see much from the pit lane. We can’t help but feel sorry for him because he looks like Ted Turner’s Brazilian son, but there’s no doubt a good Portuguese style that Ted’s mustache can’t match. But you can hear the rockets whizzing by you at over 150 mph at the same time, you can hear the engines, you can smell the rocket fuel.
If someone breaks out at the 21 lap mark, it gives us a chance to ride the PJ race. He’s 5 mph off the pace of the leaders, it seems that his car doesn’t look a little low, with its red blue and white paint, but it’s still fast. The good news comes as the gang, the slightly slippery Aussie, no doubt dropped from a long line of pickpockets, assuring the Echo that PJ was going faster with each leg, 2 seconds faster before the last flag. The flag gives him, and the rest of the drifters, a chance to catch the leaders and control the race. A mulligan is very important, that the person’s money is very cross and possible trip to nurse school. I haven’t thought about it before, but I think they are designed to make the race more exciting, tighter for the fans, since there is no speed limit for anyone as long as you don’t pass the person in front of you.
At the end you can find the leader who is being held by a very bad car (literally a car). Inspiration for the little guy. Hope for democracy in America where evil empires and dynasties rule the roost.
However, I neglected to inform you that the slippery ‘bloke’ also told the Echo that PJ is saying his brakes are getting soft, although that doesn’t sound encouraging to me. It seems that all the drivers were saying the same thing, they were not used to braking around the circuit, which many of these guys cut their teeth on. PJ doesn’t strike me as someone who has ever thought about using his free time for any reason.
The Echo looks like a real distraction to the SPFR firefighter next to us, standing behind an open 40 gallon barrel of water. The best it can do is to be completely skeptical. We have 10 minutes left to pray that there is no fire near me needing the attention of this brave lecher… The small crowd clapped, realizing that it was not. fire accident, the vultures are clapping, but the skillful passer somewhere. Marco Andretti is beating other drivers with names like Unser and Drake, most are JR, III, or IV. PJ enters 7th place as another driver exits.
I want to get a bottle of water out of the cooler next to me, but I can’t bring myself to offend the natives, with their colorful clothes and funny headdresses. Of course I’m a foreigner to the inner world. It’s nice to know one of the kings and he was standing next to his beautiful maid.
5 trips to go, surely only a terrible miracle will make our man enter the road to victory, or anywhere near it. But the victory was not expected by anyone but me, who knows less than any of the fat kids who are starting to fill the steps behind me in anticipation of the big cars racing ahead today. Drivers and their girlfriends, however, come from a different background than their fans. These girls can easily be distinguished from all the other women who follow them with their beautiful and attractive looks. Is it my opinion or are they all taller than their husbands? More research is needed, I have to research them on this at the next race and get back to you… Race car drivers can only be short men with race cars who can pay well for their lack.
It looks like Marco Andretti, the 18-year-old prodigy has driven himself to victory. Another victory for liberties, kingdoms and dynasties everywhere, not the right victory for a child. Movies are full of heroes, many Japanese journalists come running down the line, with their amazing black hair. But wait, here come the blondes, the most impressive. Obviously I should have been behind the wheel, not the golf ball, from a very young age.
PJ is helped out of his car and looks very happy. She receives a big hug and kiss from Echo and thanks from several handsome boys. We stopped and watched the circus going on around the winner’s car. I can see he’s happy to finish 7th and I ask more and more, “I finished the marathon in ’05 baby” with a heavy weight on his shoulders…. PJ chats with some of the other runners and his team while. We all jump on the PJ scooter, Echo is me, when I realize this is as close as I can get to my friend.
As I stand under the truck’s raised platform, attached to the back of the custom-built 18-wheeler, for respite from the unrelenting Florida sun, I hear a soft hum. The sun/shadow line is slowly moving across the asphalt, as I come to realize that the barbarians are informing me of my place in the permanent hierarchy of their highly evolved culture. I try to look cool and unruffled, calm in the face of their brutal behavior. I can’t help but be slowly crushed by the powerful hydraulic monster, I can hear a little grunt.
Maybe now I’m sitting here at the Tampa airport, next to a family from a foreign country, all of us on our way back to JFK and God only knows where from there, when they mock two generations of a family, One in a wheelchair and the other in a baby stroller, and my head is obvious to the Marquee cobwebs I can say that the pit team did not see me standing under the car lifting and that he was not in there to bleed, that. Cloudless temperatures Sunday afternoon in St. Petes, but if I don’t believe it you don’t either.
It has arrived at JFK
April 4, 2005
These drivers, and PJ more than any I have met so far, suffer from some atavistic need to compete for wealth, to hunt, and death not in the shadows but in front of them, all around them. This Infinity Pro Series looks a lot scarier than its big IndyCar brothers who race on the same course, just a few seconds faster at 1.8 miles. Why is it, or does it seem, dangerous if the cars are small and slow? The danger is in the drivers themselves, as I look up from my difficult writings to recognize my Arab friend, whose name I would no doubt want George Tenet to pronounce for me, throwing us at a high speed close to some fear and possible destruction, while joking his phone in one hand and his nose with the other. I feel like we’re walking a tightrope at this point and his Israeli friend is yelling at us not to look at him…they know and are running their own lives (no rules here for kids). I will say, though, that their girls look as good as IndyCar drivers, with Ashley Judd being the exception.
The drive home is getting hairy now. We didn’t cross the Williamsburg bridge with our lives and now my driver is jumping, smelling the finish line, the road to victory is within him and no one can stop him. There may be no press and teams, and the briefcase is not enough to cover the air, but these guys run for reasons that you and I cannot begin to understand.
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