Primetime, ABC… one whole hour devoted to a behind the scenes, magazine style show on NASCAR drivers.
I thought it was a one shot deal… nope… previewed next weeks episode. (ya I watched it. I was curious as to what it was)
Can’t get mad. At least not at them. They are doing it right.
Can be jealous however.
and an afternoon chat with Mr. Miller…
(oh and don’t get me started about the rumour about Rsports splitting back into two teams… the grin on my face is too wide to form words)
I, of course, am not making the trek to Europe this year. (notice I said this year… wishful thinking and all that) So I’m doing the next best thing. I’m heading out to Mosport on Saturday to catch some racing. The boys & gals from Formula BMW and Star Mazda will be doing their thing that day, as well as the crews from ALMS (their race is on Sunday) and dammit, I need my fix!
This will be another first for me! I’ve never been to Mosport. I know I know… all this racing in my own backyard… and yet, somehow I have missed it. Everything from Formula 1 to sports cars have raced there, and looking back through the historical winners lists, a veritable whos who of motorsports have taken a spin on this track.
There is something serene and grounding about the sense of history you feel when you visit places like Road America and I’m assuming Mosport. I think thats what I felt so moving about my RA experience and why I seem to be keeping my thoughts so close to my vest following that event. It affects you. You go to the track. The track doesn’t come to you. While I still get my sense of history from my home track, it’s different. There is an adrenaline and a sense of urgency associated with the street events. Blink and they’re gone. Life goes on, the streets and venues becoming something else for the rest of the year. For example, thousands of people will mill about and walk over the start finish line of the Grand Prix of Toronto this weekend without even a second thought, as the exhibition grounds host the annual Canadian National Exhibition. They will walk over it, spill their drinks and food on it, pass it by without notice. I on the other hand, when I visit on Friday, will stand on it and pause, facing the aptly name “Goddess of Winged Victory” that stands guard atop the Princes Gate, while wistfully remembering my event and transporting myself mentally to next year and what it will hold for all of us.
and with that bizarrely poetic turn in this post, I bid you adieu for the day…