I had a conversation with my Father last night. Probably, just me listening to him talk. He was like, “What is reality”? I didn’t understand what he was talking about. All I could think of was the banking of Daytona, the Back Straight at Road Atlanta and The Streets of Willow. Is racing my passion, my life’s calling? Or is it the thrill of speed, the liberation of defining living my dream? I remember building down hill go-karts with Kamau behind my grandmother’s house in NE DC, collecting stacks and stacks of racing magazines from “Super Chevy” to “NASCAR” to “Road Racing World”. Rebuilding mopeds in my Grandmother’s garage in Clinton, Maryland with TJ and Melvin. Drafting plans for a lawn mower-powered Junoir-Dragster on Temple Hills RD. Having the fastest remote control cars in the neighborhood, when living in Branch Wood Estates, no one could touch the two-speed transmission I had. Is TrackStar Road Racing just a fantasy of Teflon, and myself. Does racing run through my veins?
As a kid I remember being very creative. I remember making Bows and Arrows, sculptures like the Planters Peanut man out of newspaper, wire and, clay. Diagrams for steam-powered engines, strategies for how to run a racing team, plans for getting money to go racing, shoe designs for racecar drivers, and saving for that brown and white hamster.
Racing, the only thing I can think of.
What is reality? What am I good at? What are my talents? Who am I? “Little Giant”, the embodiment of heart, fearlessness, discipline, desire, determination is what they call me.
Am I an athlete or intellectual, just another label to me. I got good grades not because I liked it but because I know it would put me one step closer. On to college and majored in computer science, not because I wanted to, but after graduation there wasn’t much to do. The Marines was not an option. IT, Information Technology, “that’s where the money is”, maybe I’ll try that. Is Computer Science where my heart lies? Na!
Overcoming obstacles, accomplishing task set before me, such as, boxing, working in the corporate world (USDA, three years Beltsville, MD, International Labor’s Union Pension Fund, Washington, D.C.). Only one thing left, taking my place on the podium. Is it my life’s passion, I am good at, is it fear, maybe the silver spoon I’ll never have.
Old memories of my father taking me to Clinton Cycles on the dirt road in Granddaddy’s Blue Bug, to going to, Bladensburg in the brown 280z, sitting on the dirt bikes dreaming about crossing the finish line first. 5th grade playing with cut outs of motorcycles in the desk. That’s all I ever wanted to do. Was racing bred into me. Uncle Tommy telling stories about the 57 Chevy. Projects we never finished fuels my desire. Racing is the “I can”, “I will”, “I am”. It’s my existence. The love of my life, the women I never touched, her embrace, her heart is what I desire.
Is it something I could never believe…
Or is it something I could never achieve…
Is it beyond my means…
Is it inside my dreams…
Racing my story…
