The Raceway

I took my car to the raceway. Keeping even with the majority of the drivers, while other cars, obviously driven by drivers more unforgiving than I, wove in and around us, showing their contempt for our speed, as they outdistanced us, and moved out of sight. Construction on all sides, plus overhead bridges gave the track a semblance of long distance races over difficult terrain. The blending and weaving of the traffic – from semis to Geo’s – resembles the stereotypical drivers in Italy and Korea. Not for the fainthearted, this course. Returning at dusk, I pull into a deserted mall to take a call. Once full of life, the desolation of the area overwhelms as I avoid weed filled pothole, noting only one tiny building has any sign of still being in use. A guard shack perhaps, my mind wonders? In the 20 minutes I sit there on the call, only 2 cars pass by on an outer road, hurrying to get to the raceway or to escape the desolation? The call has delayed me long enough for darkness to descend. Now I drive the course in reverse, not only wary of other drivers and construction, but unable to see all the potential dangers as the oncoming lights blind me. Weaving myself now, I try to find a path through the other cars that will allow me to see the signs, to know I’m on the right path. I have driven this way before. Every time I venture to it, I’m filled with hope that this time it will be different: better, less congested, slower, less construction. All hope dashed quickly once I’m in the midst and seeing it for what it is. Reaching a more familiar section of the raceway, not as worried about obstacles, knowing the path, even with blinding lights, I feel my confidence building. For how many of us, does the pull of the raceway fill our days? Something to conquer as we careen around “obstacles”, filling us with both dread and excitement as we tackle it. Yet at the end of the course, finding only desolation before we turn back to our normal path.