A couple of weeks ago, Gary Scelzi won the NHRA Funny Car championship. Sadly, Scelzi isn't the same kind of household name as say, Tony Stewart, Jeff Gordon, Little E., etc. Its a damn shame to, because Scelzi is one of the nicest guys on national television. One of my biggest disappointments in missing the Fall Nationals was not getting to meet Scelzi.
Perhaps you've seen the Dodge Charger commercial, where the Meteroplexual in the Charger is running against a Top Fueler, finally beating him out of the toll booth? Scelzi was driving the dragster. As I recall, the ads were released to coincide with NASCAR's spring race in Darlington. Anyone else see the irony here? NASCAR whores.
In winning the championship, Sclezi knocked out John Force, a devestatingly dominate driver. Force has won the NHRA champioship 13 times, and is just as entertaining off the track as he is on. Force has the illumination of the sun, the no-bullshit self-assuredness of experience... watching 10 seconds of post-race interviews of Force is the equivalent of running half a mile. Any man who drives 330 miles an hour, and claims to have seen Elvis at A Thousand Feet is not a man to be taken lightly.
In the larger scheme of things, probably none of this matters to very many people. But it matters to me. Every week, or so, these guys (and girls) line up and run just as hard as they can for quarter of a mile. First one to cross the line wins. It is mostly that simple.
Just once, I would like to go to work, hang it all out on the edge for one weekend and win or lose, know where I stand. As it is now, months and months of work, exhaustion, and time away from the family is all for naught while other people with other agendas reach settlements. On to the next project with the same inevitable outcome.
In the time that a car takes to run the quarter-mile strip, be it four-and-a-half or fourteen seconds, that surely must be the closest thing to true inner peace. No agendas, no bullshit. No employees huddled in a corner, plotting the next step of a palace coup. No silently disapproving stare of the disappointed boss. Heads up racing, win or lose.
Win or lose, blow or go. No moral ambiguities, no unintended disappointments of alienation of family. Ashley Force runs a Top Alcohol dragster. It is all I can do on a daily basis to prevent the proliferation of new ways to disappoint my daughters, or piss off my wife.
Cut a good light, stay in the groove, hit the shift points, shut it down at the other end. Missed my light, I been out of the groove a couple of times... now I am pedalling like hell to make it to the beam.
The Winternationals in Pomona don't fire up until February 9. It's gonna be a long winter without Scelzi, Force, Elvis, nitromethane and... Formerly Living.
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