Just as the sun comes over the horizon, the pit is completely alive. Full with the sounds of teams working hard and drivers talking, and probably trading advice for hard kept secrets while bragging about their setup. There is complete silence as one man walks the long, open, and empty track. He is seen praying, but not for victory; rather, giving thanks for the perfect day. The track is cold, calm and like a virgin untouched by the high speeds that are coming to disrupt the serenity. The galleries are starting to fill slowly like sands of an hourglass. The smells of the high octane mixed with the sweat of the crews fill the air just before the uncomfortable silence sets in. All of the workers stop, their hoods drop, and the crowd stand up. Hands over hearts as “Old Glory” is raised high as a beacon of freedom and pride. The Anthem thunders over the world as if it the last time anyone would ever hear it. Afterwards, there was utter silence.
Four words spoken and that is all it takes to unleash an earthquake from the field. The roar of all the engines starting at once, feels like a cannon launching a volley into the hearts of the crowd. The drivers, donned in their battle armor, take to the track leaving only the smell of exhaust fumes and burning rubber. The lead is held by the lone wolf whom had walked the track so meticulously minutes ago. His body is hard-pressed, almost super glued, to his expensive battle carriage as the speed increases faster and ever faster. There is an angelic aura around him as he attacks each corner with uncanny precision. The turbo on his rotary engine, of his brilliant black RX-7, spools at ludicrous speed generating a whine that rivals a banshee’s shriek. Fans cheer for the blur he creates as he enters the apex straight sideways. White smoke leaps from the contact of the fast spinning tires tearing into the glassy smooth tarmac and moves to the sky, eclipsing the sun from the chaotic crowd. The RX-7 appears to break all of the laws of physics as he exits with unmatched speed.
All hearts are beating hard, like drums, and adrenaline is pumping through every vein as the drivers complete lap after lap. Even the sun finds a spot high enough to see everything on the track. All of the drivers are focused to the maximum as the day progresses. Then it happens. Two cars misjudge the distance and kiss each other hard and fast like a pair of newlyweds. Debris flies outward in all directions from these star stuck lovers as they both flip and roll out of control. Once the dust settles, hearts are broken. The carnage speaks for itself. Everyone fears the worst. No one wants to look but they are not able look away. Silence is the only thing in the world, as the rescue crews arrive to save the pair trapped within.
Life has returned to the stands as the heroes emerge unscathed from their near eternal coffins. The monsters are dead, bleeding oil and antifreeze, and are soon drug away. This is just an occupation hazard for all racers. After the field is restarted it is almost like nothing even happened as the fans continue to cheer and the drivers refocus on the task at hand. The driver of the RX-7 still leads the pack. As the sun gets tired the race is coming to its end. Only a few laps are left and one is still out front. The white flag flies high like a dove and the cars run all out. With a last ditch effort every driver pushes their machines further than ever before. The last corner is a dangerous one as it looks like the lead cars are demon possessed, disregarding life and limb in a fight to the death. There is one seat being used as the cars blow by the finish line and with a flick of the wrist and wave of the arm it is over. The beautiful black beast has won, again.
There is no feeling like the one of winning, conquering you enemies, and the relief after it is over. Mixed emotions take over the veteran and rookie drivers alike. The driver of the RX-7 steps out of his trusty steed and looks up and thanks the Lord for the day again. There is something powerful about Sunday. Hopes and dreams are shattered and new ones are reborn. After the all the spectators leave and the cars are put to rest the moon and sun trade places. The victor again stands alone on his own. He walks the track again remembering the events that had occurred just hours ago looks up at the moon and smiles.
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