Get Your Motor Runnin', Head Out On the Highway!

Wednesday 21st March, Human Rights Day in South Africa - we had the pleasure of attending a race day at one of our local race tracks. It's always such a good time, and I find it hard to understand people who are not petrolheads. Granted, being married to a petrolhead of such proportions - it is nearly an illness for some - I didn't have much choice but to fall in love with motorsport, but still... how can you not at least "appreciate" cars?


I won't pretend to know a great deal. I don't know how many horses they've put into a Mustang, or how many kilowatts power a BMW. I can't tell you much about a turbo or suspension, although I'm learning that cars with more valves have a lower torque, but a better overall performance. I do know what torque is, and how to spell it. Damn, I'm good.


There are various aspects that would entice someone like myself into the world of motorsports...


Food, for instance. There is some kind of scientific law of nature that guarantees that car people are also naturally food people. And as such, one is always guaranteed that car exhibitions, shows and races will likely have the best in burgers, chip 'n dips... and mini doughnuts. Yes... *dramatic pause*... Mini doughnuts. Crispy and sugary on the outside, and soft and warm inside... drenched in hot chocolate and caramel sauce. Yes! I admit that perhaps 50% of my enthusiasm for motoring events may stem from my deep-found appreciation and passion for mini doughnuts, but the other 50% should hopefully count for something.


And part of that 50% is the element of surprise that makes race days just... delightful! For instance, look at this....

This is Mark du Toit's 1969 Ford Mustang. It looks pretty quick, right?
Wrong. It's just pretty. 
With all due respect to the Du Toit family, whose collection of beautiful cars possibly outnumbers my collection of favourite songs (which is impressive), the Mustang is a bit of a boat on the track. And that's ok. If it's primary role is to evoke sighs of desire and gasps of awe, as a ballerina would as she pirouettes across a stage... well, the Mustang does a darn good job of it. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. The Mustang makes losing a race look graceful and timelessly wonderful. 


Then there's this....

...Racing against this...

...Neck in neck, lap after lap... how is that possible?? The VW Golf belongs to Mr. George Economides who is admittedly a legendary driver, and who had the honour of taking on the Nissan Skyline GTR in an epic battle who was owned by... well, someone with a great deal of money, and possibly a less legendary driver. We were all on the edge of our seats, watching these two take each other on, right until the end. Incredible entertainment! 


And then who wouldn't love seeing two little Lotus's...

... WIN - take first and second place consecutively - in the "Ultimate Street car" category. Not a BMW M3. Not a Honda Civic. Not a Mustang (obviously). The sweet, little, heartwarming, "cuddle-me-please" Lotus. First and Second place. 


Of course, there are also the ageless sounds of a race-day. The constant background sound of motors being tested to their limits on the dyno. Commentators yammering away, and cheesy old music blaring from crackly old speakerphones. Revving V8's and rotary engines that can only be described by saying that they sound like pure.... testosterone. Which would usually be extremely annoying and gross, except that at the race track it becomes extremely cool. 


So, sure, I don't know much about cars, except that I do love them. I shall thus end with a particularly fitting, cheesy music track - yes, there is always a song. And when it comes to tyres on tarmac, there is only one: Steppenwolf's "Born To Be Wild".


Turn it up, Fellow Inhabitants of this Planet, and let's cruise.