How motor racing changed my life

My eyes were first introduced to the world of motor racing when I was in high school. Dad gave me a Yamaha motorbike for my 16th birthday. It was a shiny red big bike with clean wheels, it smelled like paint, it was perfect.

I have been discreetly asking my dad to buy me a motorbike 3 months before my birthday. We used to watch motor races on tv and I would make little hints. Thought he was too naive to notice because he would say that I was too young or something. But came my 16th birthday, it was there, in the garage, with a card that said, for you son, hope you’re happy, dad.

It was the best gift I received as of yet.

Baby steps

I immediately rode it, I already know how to since I know how to ride a bicycle. But the first try gave me a burn in my ankle, and a twisted pinkie. The changes in my life started from there.

Stepping out of my shell

As a kid, I was a recluse. I didn’t have many friends, most of the time, I was just at home, reading the encyclopedia. Yes, I read that, cover to cover like it was a bestselling novel at the New York Times. My playmates were my siblings and cousins. Most of the time I was with adults, older men in the construction sites my dad owns. So, when I got the motor cycle, I gained friends outside my family tree.

I became a member of a clandestine motor racing group 4 months after I had my first motor cycle. People began to see me as a not-so bad guy. They now nod at me whenever I get to cross paths with them. I was not the “it” guy in school, but I was definitely part of a group.

As I grew older and went to college, I became more than a motor racing enthusiast, I became a follower of the sport. I worshipped Brands Hatch, I dreamt to join the big leagues and not pursue a college degree. I use to navigate the University with my red, big and shiny motorcycle. I used to sneak every night and go motor racing at my dad’s construction site, which was really stupid of me back then.

Life lost

But then, something major happened. My friend died at mid-afternoon motor racing across town. He raced to forget a girl who dumped him. I was just behind him. I saw everything. I saw how his motorcycle exploded. How he struggled to keep his eyes open. His body was burnt beyond recognition. His ashes were the only thing that went to home to his family in the Philippines.

After that, I became more cautious when I go motor racing. I became more aware of the risks of motor racing. But I still sneak out a few times, like once a month. I now realize that I should go motor racing for the right reasons. And the right reason is because of the passion, not of rebellion or to prove something. But because I love the speed. Nothing more, nothing less.


2 Responses to “How motor racing changed my life”

  1. […] Read the rest of this great post here […]

  2. How motor racing changed my life

    “Motor Racing will be the death of me!” as often explained by parents to their kids who wanna take up motor racing as a hobby. For some it’s the source of all their anxiety, while for others, it’s something that’s as crucial as breathing.

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