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Ten Laps of Disaster, Elation and Not Knowing My Left From My Right
This is how boys become men
What a day (say it with a Yorkshire accent and you’ll know what kind of day I had).
It was race day and the weather was sizzling for Finland, a country better known for its freezing winters. The only thing in the sky was a brutal sun burning its rays at us sweating souls below.
By race day, I mean karting, the motorsport that leads to Formula 1. This sport, much to the wailing lamentations of my overdraft, is what my son has chosen as his passion.
Some call these “go-karts” and you can too if you prefer. I choose not to, as that term has a ring of toyishness to it, like it’s a fun ha-ha-haa pursuit kids do, zipping around in little motorised vehicles.
These are not toys though. Acceleration is faster than a new Ferrari and just a few tenths of a second slower than a Formula 1 car. What I’m trying to convey to you is that shit gets real here — as they say in da hood.
Kart drivers dream big. The best in karting have a career trajectory that culminates in spraying Champagne over an adoring audience in Monaco. However, the work it takes to reach the summit is far from their glamorous dreams of flying their multiple supermodel girlfriends around the globe in…