It’s Time To Rev That Engine

Wow, here we are. You, there, up in the stands. Me, surrounded by other mes. We are racers. We are race car drivers. We are race car drivers in race cars assembled on a race track while you, up there, in the stands, sit in the stands. You get it. I get it. You’re there and I’m here. I wish that you were here. Well, I don’t. I want to win. I wish that only the minimum number of other people could be here so as to greater increase my chances of winning. I wish you were here in spirit. There is a way to link us, and that is for you to hear my car as well as see my car. A physical link, as I depress the throttle pedal, it pulls upon a cable, and that cable opens eight butterflies on this 360 sprint engine, barking intake and exhaust pulses floating up to your chest. I rev in anticipation and in union.

Wow, here we are. A drag strip. There is no you. Not as I see it. The only you is the car. The only you is the sense of distance, and time, and how it warps across one quarter of a mile. An RB26 is in front of me. Several seconds are in front of me. Drag tires are in front of me, as well as behind me. To sufficiently warp the time ahead of me, to reduce the distance from several seconds (many) to several seconds (fewer than that), I must have the car at peak power. For peak power, I need boost. Boost from these turbos. These two turbos. This two, large HKS turbos. It needs exhaust to spin its large turbine. It needs revs for that exhaust. It needs revs to make boost and make power and not bog at the start with its four drag slicks. This Skyline is speed, but not without two-step, holding engine RPM up, turbos spooled, exhaust popping away.

I roll up to break the first timing line and know. It’s time to rev this thing, rev it for pride and purpose.