Why motor racing is best enjoyed at night

Those who go motor racing can be considered as knight riders..well..spell it minus the letter k.

Went motor racing three days before New year. As usual, it was a spur of the moment and wasn’t planned days in advance.  My motor racing pal, Fred, called up around 6 p.m. and asked if I was free and I said yes, considering I was on my vacation leave from the hospital.  Two hours later, I was at the foot of the mountain and my friends and I raced till an hour after midnight.  When I came home, my mom and dad were in the living room, drinking coffee and didn’t let me go up till I answered their question, they asked why I race at night.

No really valid reason, at least for them

I was really tired yet so worked up before I went home and all the excitement melted down when I saw the lights were still on. I gave them three sensible reasons, well that’s what I feel, for them, it was like the most unreasonable ones.

• The air is crispier – The “wind feel” at night definitely adds to the appeal.  Even if we don’t have the healthiest air, the wind at night is much relaxing to inhale.

• Vehicle-free roads – Yeah, I know, I race in the mountains, but we also do streets and not to mention my dad’s construction sites.  At night, there are virtually less wheels and the path is open for racing consumption.

• The roads are peaceful – the stillness of the night adds to the motor racing appeal.  When all I can hear are the chirping of the birds and the buzz of my engine, it makes me want to race forever.

Awake with the owls

The night, just like what it does to Dracula, so to speak, brings the motor racer in me. As I told those three reasons to my folks, my dad shook his head and wished me good morning and my mom kissed me on the cheek and they left me alone in the sofa. I went up to my room and slept happily.

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.