Yesterday I made the trek down to Bowling Green to flog my Answer around the NCM track on the SCCA Tracknight in America. During my first heat I was having fun and keeping up with some pretty quick company when I overcooked the chicane and spun, got straightened out and going again when the superheated hohos gave up again with no warning in literally the next corner. That's a sign, something is wrong and I need to get off this track NOW. So back to the pits to inspect and cool off.
Here's where my Bat-moment occurs. The local car club is having a cruise-in at the other end of the paddock and there are spectators wandering around. This kid comes over to the Miata and starts gushing about how it's his favorite car (come on kid, we're surrounded by amazing machinery, there is a red ZR-1 vette right behind us for goodness sake). But no, he's serious.
I should point out here that the young man is extremely polite and well spoken but he's clearly very ill. Thin and has the hair of someone undergoing chemo. Same age as my son and facing E36 M3 someone that age should never have too experience.
Gotta do something here so I offer the boy a ride around the track (parade laps are going on) provided his dad says yes. Dad says huge yes and you'd have thought Christmas morning had arrived for my new passenger. Out we go for three leisurely laps and he's grinning and chattering the whole time.
I hope he gets better, and smiles when he remembers his ride in "a real race car". I know I'll remember him.
