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Great Writing - Home > Poetry > First Trackday (reworked)
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Poetry
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| First Trackday (reworked) | |
| By clockwork | ||||
| 29 August 2006 | ||||
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Please compare this with the previous version - it flows better but I think some of the urgency may be lost. Too nervous to sleep a moment longer, I crawl out of my warm cocoon Stroll around the paddock and tremble as I peer through the gloom – Everything is wet, the persistent rain brings a sense of impending doom. I get a coffee, nibble some food and head down to the clubhouse to sign Briefing helps to calm the nerves - the rain has slowed, it may turn fine Smell of fuel as tanks are filled, wriggle into leathers – help, its time. The low rumble of Ducati engines rising to a roar as carefully we flow Onto the track for the first time – it’s wet and slippery so take it slow Once, twice around, there’s the flag just as excitement starts to grow Back to the paddock to wait – the rain has gone, the track is nearly dry Almost settled when: “Novices to the holding area” comes the tannoy cry And I find myself wondering if there is any possibility I can learn to fly. Quicker than before but not yet fast as the corners still seem so tight Down the straight and up the hill, then the track drops away out of sight Make a complete muddle of the Gooseneck – how will I ever get this right? Another lap and getting faster it’s clear Oh, the bike in front has missed a gear Over The Mountain – can I take him here? No! Over the wet grass I have to steer. It’s time to find an instructor and ask him to please show me the way He says he will come and find me at some point in the course of play There is a yellow flag and I see him pushing – all his fuel drained away! Session four is about to start – there’s Tony having filled his fuel store. Away we go – this is considerably faster than I have ever been before - The lines begin to come into focus and my heart pounds, “Yes! More!” Each lap now I am earlier on the gas and so much later on the brakes; It seems quite routine when the wheel lifts and the front end shakes. There are other adrenaline rushes but compared to this they’re fakes! Turning in later and harder each time I feel my boot scrape the ground Learn to keep it out of the way, but it is the footpeg next time around! It seems that every corner I confront possesses a new joy to be found. Too exhausted to continue, I must conclude the day just in case In my weary state I might find I’m too tempted by far to race Every muscle I have aches but I can’t keep the grin off my face!
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