Michael Everson
Writing 121
Ms. Gritter
February 9, 2003
 
 
Ten Tenths
 
 
            Have you even been on a windy two-lane road, and passed by a swiftly moving car in the oncoming lane?  There’s a split second before that car becomes a blur, when you can see the face of the driver.  Does that driver have a smile on his or her face?  I find myself being the abnormally happy driver more often than not.  Performance driving is an activity that I enjoy regularly; it’s one of the few activities that heighten all of my senses.  Driving seems like an ordinary task to many, but to me it means so much more.
            I have been exposed to motor sports and automobiles for most of my life, but as I have grown older, my understanding of the two subjects has delved to deeper levels.  In years gone by, my appreciation involved merely aesthetics, and statistics such as horsepower and top speed.  When I was in the seventh grade, I began watching motor racing regularly, and was amazed at the skill and bravery displayed by the drivers.  It isn’t at all easy to pilot a violently quick Formula One car through the narrow streets of Monte Carlo, at high speeds, without hitting anything.  At this age I also began to read the works of writers such as Peter Windsor, Maurice Hamilton, and Georg Karcher.  Their stories of brisk drives through beautiful scenery, and the nearly super-human skills of racing drivers inspired me to understand these two interests of mine on a more dynamic level.  When I became old enough to drive, I was then able to create some magic of my own. Now, my passion lies in the experience of taking an automobile to its limits and back. 
I love taking an early Saturday morning drive on a barren back-road.  A section of quick esses appear, and beg to be carved through with precision.  There’s a long straightaway that that demands increased speed, and I happily oblige as the acceleration presses me firmly into the seat.  The tranquility of the trees is broken by the intense rays of sunlight, which break through the sparse branches and warm the side of my face.  The sun still hangs low in the sky and casts shadows over the road ahead, distorting my depth perception, and causing me to second-guess myself.  Is there a surface change?  Is there a bump on the road?  Most of the roads that I play on, I know very well, but every now and then I’ll be surprised by a new pot-hole, or the lip of a new piece of asphalt.  These seem like small disturbances, but my senses detect everything in situations like this.
            A good experience behind the wheel is not always about making one feel like a hero.  Sensory stimulation is probably what contributes the most to a good drive.  The sound of air rushing over the top of my car past my head, the engine climbing up and down within its power-band, the smell of pine soaked air with a hint of burning oil, the vibration of the asphalt tickling my fingertips on the steering wheel.  Every one of these sensations heightens my awareness, and makes my heart beat just a little bit faster.  These sensations are almost therapeutic; I tend to be in a better mood after I’ve had my fun.  When I step away from my car after I return home, I often turn back and look it over for a few seconds.  It puts a smile on my face to think that I was just inside of that object, testing every aspect of its construction, pushing it to its limits.  My mind flashes back to the memory of a corner that I drove through perfectly, to my body being pressed to the side of my seat, to the feeling of my tires searching for all available grip.  I often analyze the drive in my head for the next few hours, thinking of sections that I got just right, and others that could have been better.  Improving your skills not only takes practice, but a considerable mental application as well.    
            There is no way you can possibly have a safe and enjoyable drive without exercising your mind to a large extent.  It is essential to constantly be able to take in your surroundings, listen to what your senses tell you, process that information, and make quick, yet well thought decisions.  This method of conducting yourself is essential to keeping yourself out of danger.  There may be a time when you make a mistake, or something unforeseen appears, which is why it is advisable to leave a small margin for error.  Should I take this blind corner five miles per hour faster?  Should I keep going at unabated speed through a deer crossing?  These types of situations appear often, and it is of paramount importance to exercise a degree of caution.  For this reason, one must always be slightly on edge and prepared for any surprises that may present themselves.  Being on edge is not as frightening as you might think however, because a rush of adrenaline often accompanies this feeling.  The tension created only adds to the experience.
            My fascination with driving mirrors my approach to any other task that I encounter in life.  I am very methodical in my application, enjoy the portions that may be fun, and take away a sense of happiness from my achievements.  I also try to understand things on a deeper level, how they work, how they are constructed, and the actual concept behind their design.  I have learned to apply this same method of appreciation for automobiles to food, art, and even writing.  My method of literacy seems to be applicable to a variety of subjects, but it didn’t become what it is until I saw a four-wheeled vehicle for the very first time.