CIRCUIT RACING IS BIGGER THAN DOUG GORE AND DAVID SUMMERBELL JR! PART 2

Do you think we are all created equal?

Long live the Queen of Soul!

An indomitable flame!

YOU HAVE EARNED OUR RESPECT!

CIRCUIT RACING

For reasons which will cause honest petrol-heads to grapple, to derive lucid interpretation, a euphoric experience acquires velocity when proximity to Dover’s 1.6 decreases. It may be branded nervous anticipation. It is a delightful journey.

The explanation is simple though. You are blissfully aware of the turbulent, invasive, tsunami-like wave of unbridled joy which awaits you, courtesy of the cocktail of pleasure which will be served when machines, built on the premise of acute speed and driven by men who are unfamiliar with the concept of a loss, take to the track to settle all arising disputes.

Reckless endorphins trigger an explosion and your inner being fights a hopeless battle to restrain the ecstasy which threatens to drown your soul!

JRDC

So, we return to the track like addicts, demanding an extension of the ‘high’. As the Toyota Wish approached the 1.6, the parking lot was not singing a prosperous song. The light drizzle of parked cars seen was not sending the appropriate signals of the torrential downpour of cash that the JRDC requires, if financial red is to be converted to NHRA drag-slicks-wide black!

But, I was not surprised. All indicators – left and right – prior to my arrival, conveyed that what I witnessed was flung on the table when Montego Bay and elsewhere became aware that ‘Hollywood’ would not play his typical leading role.

I will admit, however, that typically, the August race-meet was never a cash cow for the club. It was always a difficult event. And the challenges multiplied with Doug and David being removed from the grid.

Sparsely populated would be adequate to describe the parking lot. I was a bit perturbed. I hurriedly arrested my despair though, grabbed an armband and proceeded to ground zero – the paddock.

In Part 1, I mentioned expecting the unexpected. On August 6th, the unexpected slapped me silly!

My four eyes were not required to discern that the paddock was a bee-hive of motorized activity. It was a palpable, audible orchestra of jocular exchanges among anxious competitors and satisfied patrons. I heard probing and curious questions, racing to resolve race-car issues. I listened to progress reports re the performance of the machines and was interrupted by Monique’s directives, summoning machines to the grid.

The atmosphere was bustling with bodies in motion – a F1 grid before the start of the race! The scenes were a jubilant, distant cry from the message the parking lot sent. Inner peace paid me a visit!

Doug ‘Hollywood’ Gore’s pit-bay, constructed during the ‘ATL era’, was open – a race-car was inside!

Cecil Munroe Gleaner On-Line Writer