My fall into Using apex

Sunken badfish

5y ago
1.3K

I was once a young lad, simply captivated by the sights and smells of unique vehicles. My father's green old F100 warming up on a chilly Seattle morning, a Datsun S30 bubzing by as the sunset caressed it's exquisite brown body, and even the odd boring box cars sometimes had a neat detail that would catch my attention.

For many years I was satisfied with this approach to automobiles, it allowed me to get caught up in the vibe that each vehicle presented, a habit that is still ingrained in my present psyche. Books and magazines allowed me to keep a steady stream of facts, figures, stories, and pictures flowing through my head on a regular basis, as I was not raised by "petrol heads." Car shows, when I could get to them, became my Disneyland: a place for the imagination to go wild as I enthusiastically absorbed every bit of knowledge and experience related to these magnificent machines.

They were not like the others....

The 'fridge kept the food, the toilet took care of the end of the food, the generator made things civilized in the storms, the TV blasted rabble from the pop world, but there was something very strange about the automobiles. They had a presence, something stirred within them that transcended mere functionality, into a place on the family hierarchy that was rather close to where the pets resided. These wheeled beasts loyally carried us around as long as we fed them and made sure they were feeling well.

Some folks took the caring of their vehicles so far that it seemed as if the machine would somehow glean personality from the owner, and indeed the infatuated person would gain identity from the machine. The wrinkled and whiskered old cowboy hot rodder would say his bench seat covered in a Mexican blanket was the pinnacle of luxury, while his piston and flame tattoos implied he had a hankerin' for liberal use of fuel and all that it brought. I wanted to know what it was about owning and driving a car that would make someone leave permanent images of engine parts on their arms.

To me, the feeling that driving brought was something mystical that I could only imagine, as a decade went by before I drove anything other than a lawn mower. At the bottom of a friend's pond, a go kart resided ever since the day his brother drove it down their incredibly steep hill and straight into the water. My father and I rescued the machine, cleaned it and cleared it of any major issues, and eventually got it running again. We essentially rebuilt the whole thing, but it was a great bonding and learning experience, and provided many years of torn up lawn and oil splatter from the centrifugal clutch and chain drive. While this was indeed driving and my first "car," it was one wheel drive and a lot of guesswork.

Let's fast forward some years: a Junior in high school, I drove my 1997 Ranger pickup to the Thunderhill Raceway in Willows, California. That day was my badfish.

I had the opportunity to learn advanced driving techniques and get some track time in at a legitimate venue. After inspecting my truck and dirt bike helmet to ensure they were suitable for use on the track, the instructors had us go into a room where we received a lecture on driving and physics that seemed to go on for hours. I paid attention more than I had in any other class, I was there to learn how to operate a car at it's peak performance, I was about to interact with a vehicle in a way I had only read about. I loved my Ranger by then, and was excited to learn how to drive it at it's full potential.

I remember thinking as I took the initial parade lap in the pickup, "this looks and feels nothing like it does from the grandstands!" The track was vast and strange, very different from the public roads I had been driving on before, it all was cohesive, you could tell this wasn't any random collection of turns and angles. As the day went on, with the various instructors giving advice, I solidified the importance of mass, apex, and grip.

The mass and grip were simple realities of the current situation, they became the basis on which I could rely, critical pieces of information that are largely based on feeling. As the weight shifted around during an off camber turn, removing pressure from the inside wheels and displacing it to the outside, I could sense the relationship the squealing of the tires and vibrations from the skidding had with the stability of the truck. Mass and grip became as critical of a measure as the rpm and temperature of the engine. While the body cannot provide hard facts and numbers, what it can do is give a sense of inertia, and the friction that keeps things predictable like a burrito's tortilla.

The apex is a creative choice. Mass and grip are the pastels with which the driver can paint. It is rare to be able to take the same corner the exact same way every time: other drivers, weather, part wear, and simple human inconsistency guarantees that the fastest line around a corner will always be different. It is up to the immediate imagination and intuition of the driver to paint the best driving line they can.

On that day, at 16 years old, I became addicted to apex after only one dose. It is a dangerous choice, care for your loved ones who blend mass and grip into unending canvases of driving lines, for it may cause neglect in other areas of their lives.

I have no plans on kicking my addiction, the craving for apex is now a part of who I am. What I learned as a child about the individuality of vehicles and their effect on people is still deep within me, but the driving line has taken me on life paths that I never could have predicted as a young enthusiast. On this weekend I thrashed a ratty A4 quattro (that I honestly have no business owning at the moment) at a local rallycross event. I rode home in a tow truck and spent a lot of money, but I'm high as a kite and satisfied with life.

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