I had reached the canopy of Zomarro a lot quicker than I had the other day when Joe was leading the way. I hate to admit it, but my attempt at a handbrake turn to switch direction 180 style failed miserably. That’s what happens when you showboat for the camera. On the way back down the hillside I saw a dirt path that I first noticed the other day on the way to lunch. What could be down there? It looked a little rough but reasonably well-travelled. Nothing ventured, nothing gained I reasoned and made my way slowly down the road in the rental car we were relying on to get to the airport the next morning. Yet another checkmark in my long history of good decisions.
I had taken the trail as far as I wanted to go, but now there was nowhere to turn around. As good as I am at reversing (let’s ignore the parking lot bump in Gerace) I didn’t think it was wise to attempt it here. In finding a spot to turn around that wouldn’t destroy the car I became unsure of my direction, not quite disoriented, but unsure nonetheless. I had entered on a downslope, so the one of the two paths uphill paths available had to be the right one. I chose correctly, and soon enough I was back on my racetrack.
Passing the excavator yet again I put the pedal to the floor. The descent would be faster as gravity helped make up for the car’s seemingly inadequate power output. The descent was rapid indeed and I was on a mission. Unlike the fear that I’ve experienced while on my motorcycle at the racetrack, I wasn’t scared at any point; after all, I had metal, glass, a seatbelt and airbags to save me. Sometimes when pushing hard on the bike at the track you get the slightest disconcerting feeling that the front end is washing out, but in reality the grip is there; you could push a lot harder if you really wanted to. More often than not what’s really happening is that you’re running out of confidence. Or as the correct response to the question “Why did you crash?” goes… “I ran out of talent”. And so when I felt the car run slightly wide and drift into the oncoming lane while exiting a tight corner, an oncoming lane occupied by another car, I knew that I was pushing hard. Perhaps too hard; but as they say, bad decisions make good stories and this chapter of the trip, the mountain racing chapter, was over.
No comments:
Post a Comment