I love cars, I love driving, I love racing. I grew up around it and been in and out of some form of wheeled sports for most of my life. Short of my love for my good wife, there is nothing in my life that is more essential to me - to being me.

Damn the English magazine MOTORSPORT. I buy almost every issue because it's so good. But it's almost morbidly good. I've mentioned how "dead hero magazine" makes me cry, and the latest issue did it again. But this time they went too far.

It's one thing to write of great drivers most stirring drives, to publish stunningly great photography, and to earn the title Literature on so many pages. But the way the writers and editors pull on my heartstrings is unbearable.

I credit Rob Walkers grand prix stories in Road & Track during the 70's for helping me maintain my desire to read thru my young years. I admired James Hunt as a sort of sexy bad guy, Niki Lauda as the epitome of determined heroism, Ronnie Peterson as a genius who could temporarily defy the laws of physics. Reading Rob's stories brought me into a world not unlike the ones I've shared with my own friends thru each of my own lifes motorsports era's.

When I was fairly young my Father stopped racing after a tepid year following a terrific top speed tangle and roll. He stopped in part because an era was ending and because his family was upon reflection too important to risk what he was now more familiar with. I had numerous terribly punishing crashes motorcycle racing and discussed the potential psychological effects at the time with my cohorts. At that age not a one of us ever turned it down or lost speed. One of my best friends many years later lowsided his road bicycle while we were racing on our favorite training road and he never got over having blood spurting out of his temple - he never rode hard on the road again.

I mention this because this is as close as I've ever been to the seeming staple of MOTORSPORT: glorification of the worthy but dead. Now I can't say that I don't get all puffed up over the still living too. I guess it's some form of empathy for what we all feel when we drive, and what motivates us. Naturally I don't compare myself to great drivers in the ultimate sense, but I do all I can with what I've got just like you do.

The latest issue - January 2002 - with Senna in the McLaren Ford on the cover has an installment of Legends wherein Nigel Roebuck relates a story of Piers Courage with help from Frank Williams. Naturally there is a shot of Piers in a car. But the other shot is in the pits. Piers is talking with Frank while Peirs' beautiful wife Sally, who Frank describes as nutty as a fruitcake, sitting on the wall above them, looks down on her husband with a face beaming with love while tousling his hair. As you read the story and you converge on Piers end your eyes are drawn back to that womans face. My heart ached.

We have two, maybe three turns in my part of the country where the speeds are such and the demands are such that 100% commitment is required and 100% reward is achieved. In my small world these turns are Eau Rouge. If I couldn't allow myself to be their master my sport would be ended. This is what you and I have in common with the greats - we are doing the same things. That's who these bastards at MOTORSPORT are writing for.

I think that you should look for this magazine and see if you like it as much as I do - if you really love your motorsports you will probably love, and hate, this magazine.

Scott, who....sniffle.....can't believe the photo on page 27, those photographers are standing 3 feet off the racing line...


[Modified by RR98ITR, 9:56 PM 1/17/2002]

 

Thanks for an eloquent post, Scott. I've never even heard of the magazine 'MOTORSPORT', but I will definitely look for a copy now. But hey, I'm so far behind the times that I've only just recently discovered 'Race Car Engineering'. Them Brits sure do put together some nice magazines.

I know what you're saying about Eau Rouge. There's a corner at Shannonville (up here in Ontario) that is seriously intimidating (at least to me). Turn 1 on the Pro and Nelson configurations. The first time I mustered up the courage to go flat out through this corner I was literally yelling "Bonzai!!!" at the top of my lungs. It's such a greasy high speed sweeper that you really have to trust your tires, trust your set-up, and trust yourself. Took me quite a few races before I was able to reach that point, and the feeling afterwards was pure bliss. I found my personal motorsports nirvana at Shannonville that day. I've revisted that place a few times since (I'm mean my motorsports nirvana, not turn 1 at Shannonville ), but it's a decidely rare feeling for me at least. But of course that just makes it all the sweeter when I get there.

Cheers,
Dave


[Modified by Maxi, 12:03 AM 1/18/2002]