Says right on the oil can and on the side of the fuel pump at the gas station – do not drink this shit, it can harm you.
Sight is so much a part of the driving experience. It is sometimes hard to remember these times when you are stuck going 10 MPH in miserable bumper to bumper freeway traffic or trying to determine if the idiot in the aforementioned trashed out rice rocket approaching a 4-way stop sign will stop or just sail through knowing that you will do anything not to hit him. Away from the banality of the daily drive, it’s those times when your eyes do the heavy lifting, searching for spots that might still be damp, or note that the yellow sign says CAUTION the following corner should be taken at 30 MPH and you glance down and see the speedo sweep past 70. Yeah its good to be alive, enjoying what you and your car (preferably a Porsche) can do best. Just shut the fuck up and drive.
It takes all our senses to drive. But there’s one more sense that’s part of the experience, or at least it should be. It’s called the gut feeling, the seat of the pants, mojo, vibe or what ever else you want to call it. Racers know. It’s driving at the edge; that fine line between a perfect corner and spin city. It is jumping on the throttle just past the apex so that the car does not over steer because the off camber nature of the corner is not helping you. It’s getting the most out of a car. Every last ounce. Racers understand. They have the seat and track time (in the tens of thousands of hours) to trust that built in, innate sixth sense. And you know what? It feels damn good.
And on that exhaust note, I’ll see you all next time.
image source: http://thechicaneblog.com/