A lot of people ask me why I drive race cars, and believe me, I question it myself sometimes, but this time I think I finally have an answer.
This world is so suppressed, man. Look around. You see kids aspiring to be garbage men. You see teenagers wasting thousands of dollars to go to a college they heard was "lit" to pursue something they do not even want to do to maybe get a career doing exactly that for the rest of their life. Adults sitting in offices, being told what to do by some "boss" with a wild superiority complex because he/she gets paid an extra 50 cents than them an hour as they wish, dream, wonder what their life could be like if they just simply did what they love. Schools throwing around standardized testing and SAT bootcamps so ambitious kids can realize they don't have a future unless they fill in a couple of multiple choice questions correctly. People literally staring down from skyscrapers at dying homeless people in freezing weather. People buying things with money they don't have to impress people that probably won't even be in their lives by the end of the year. A society of sheep, claiming their wolves. A society, tangled in strings of greed, power, and fear. The greed stems from the desire of money, as the rich get richer, while the poor continue to be walked on while business men in suits tweet about how welfare shouldn't exist. The power derives from the pursuit of control. Million dollar businesses run by billion dollar businesses, feeding you with lies while they brutally and horrifically slaughter animals, pump oil in to the soil of our home, and tie people to a paycheck. The fear, of course, comes from everyone being so damn scared to fall. The fear that they will not be a millionaire, the fear that someone won't love them, the fear that they won't have enough to be greedy, won't have enough to earn power, and won't have enough to succeed. God, that word makes me cringe every time.
To be straightforward, I don't fuck with that shit.
Racing has become a very political sport. Many kids losing hope, faith in their fantasies of beating Dale Earnhardt Jr. for a Daytona 500 victory with every born millionaire that pays their way in to Nascar, sprint cars, modifieds, etc. The cost of it rising tremendously by the year, and the lack of competitiveness and structure the lower levels of racing have. My heart breaks for every less Slingshot I see at the track because of a family not having enough money, or a kid just simply giving up.
But you know what, I have something to say to all of those kids;
There is no such thing as failure, only fulfillment. There is no such thing as success, only prosperity. And believe me, neither of those two things come from money. There is no dollar amount in this world, there is no car, there is no lover, there is no type of success that will bring you anything but a temporary glimpse of what this world is truly about. It is not victory, it is not "making it," in life. It is love, it is passion.
This life is a gun pointed to your head. This life is your 5th finger slipping off of the ledge. This life is your death bed. If you were about to die, would you be satisfied with how much money you made, how many businesses you owned, how many people post Facebook statuses about you, or how you loved? How you pursued your passion with the most ferocious ambition. How you changed lives by the way you inspired others. How hard you loved, and how much you gave just for the moment you get to see the smile you induced on someone else's face.
This world isn't about success man. This world is about serenity. Happiness is the love that emulates and energizes the next move that you should be making. Serenity is the peace you feel in the twilight moment before your eyes rest until the next morning, proud of all of the universes you changed today by just giving, by loving, and by chasing.
That, is what racing is to me. Racing is my unleashing. Racing taught me that to be under control, is a choice. When you are in that car, chasing that leader down as you push that throttle further and further, do you think about anything, besides how much you love what you're doing? How exhilarating it is that you are driving a God damn race car on dirt? Racing is the monger, the poster, the symbol of breaking free from the shackles of all of these strings. Racing, is that gun to your head. Knowing at any moment something may take a turn for the worse, but you keep pushing and pushing that car harder and harder in to the corner as you taste the checkered flag.
Because that is your love, being freed in to the energy you are giving yourself, and the energy you are emulating upon the world.
Racing is my escape. It is my moment away from the incinerating pain I feel, the memories that infest my mind, and escape from this war-torn, greedy, depleting world.
Racing, is why I am able to type this right now. Because for some reason, in that orange 43's cockpit, I am lost in the ways of tremendous love, an inferno of passion, a tsunami of ambition. At the same time, I am found, doing something I love to do without greed, without the lust for power, without the fear of failure, death. I am living as I bang off of Hamlin Speedway's cushion and chase down the next person in my sights. I am not living when I write math equations from a desk in school.
I am living, when I am doing exactly what I have to do to make my existence worth something to me.
The truth is, the world is a hard, dark place. You have probably heard that a million times by now.
But the other truth is, you don't need to conform to a single aspect of any of it.
Race after your wildest dreams. Annihilate the competition of contemporary society. And be victorious, in making every moment of your life mean something beyond what the world allows you to mean, because this life is out of your control. This galaxy is beyond what you can physically do. The sun may not rise tomorrow morning, and there is not a single thing you can do about it. Let go of the steering wheel. Crash in to your heart, mind, and soul, and do what you want to fucking do.
Do what you love, with your last dying breathe.
Racing, taught me that.
So, what is an urban white boy, poetry writing, wannabe rapping, hippy delinquent, superhero obsessing, piano playing freakshow doing in a racecar?
I will tell you;
Simply, being free.