Archive for January, 2010
my brother, the incredibly talented motorsports photographer behind CornerSpeedPhoto, had stickers made recently so i decided to slap one on my crutch. if you enjoy racing or watching other people race, head on over to CornerSpeedPhoto.com and take a look at some of his work; you won’t regret it.
watched highlights of the 2009 Isle of Man TT last night and it was terrifyingly excellent. i especially liked watching the sidecar races which are a lot like regular motorcycle races except the bike has a platform protruding from the side with a someone who isn’t very smart clinging to it for dear life. it’s absolutely hilarious and you owe it to yourself to check out sidecar racing if you’ve never seen it. the end!
so my car is in the shop again. the alternator doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of charging the battery and a sticky throttle body makes my car idle at a stuttery 600 RPM, forcing me to keep the engine revved at red lights so it doesn’t stall on me.
on an unrelated note, my girlfriend is laughing at me because she just discovered that i keep my stash of haw flakes in its own metal box.
some say he’s Nessie’s half cousin and that, underneath his helmet, there’s nothing but a giant flipper.
let me first preface this post by saying that i am in love with the Mazda Miata in all its forms. it’s simple, light, small, has a lively engine, looks great and handles well, pretty much everything i look for in a car besides extra cargo space. all things considered, the Mazda Miata/MX-5/Roadster (depending on where you’re from) would be my first pick for a sports car (the bigger, heavier and more expensive Honda S2000 being a close second) if i could ever justify buying one.
that said, i am in love with this Mazda Miata, the one pictured above. i love the old school red-rimmed wheels, the fastback hardtop, the exposed rivets on the flared wheel arches and the rest of the body kit. i love how it’s all drenched in stealthy yet menacing black paint and how it all comes together to form a sleek, low-slung symphony of evil.
and it probably belongs to some rich Chinese guy from Diamond Bar who doesn’t deserve it.
as the 2010 Dakar Rally comes to a close, i find myself dreaming of participating in a rally raid event and perhaps even the Dakar itself someday.
i know i don’t really have any off-road driving experience. i know i can’t even afford a secondhand Toyota Land Cruiser, let alone a Bowler Wildcat. i know i’ll probably be spending most of the race digging myself out of the sand and that my car will most likely spend more time on its roof than its tires. i know i’ll be sore and penniless afterward.
but, assuming i finish, i know i’ll experience an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. i know that i’ll be able to walk away with a satisfaction that dulls the horror of my failures and that, for me, would be worth it.
but first, i need a new hip.
apparently, not even The Stig is safe from the monstrous, all-seeing eye of Google Street View.
the Volkswagen 1600 Squareback you see above was the last thing i ever photographed with my Nikon D200 (serial #3093098) before it was stolen early last year. as such, the sight of this rather unfortunate looking 1600 fills me with the insurmountable urge to hurl the camera thief into a large cauldron of boiling oil. oh yes, it does.
vengeful thoughts aside, two things strike me about this Volkswagen: 1) it looks like it’s been through a lot and 2) it’s got to be one tough little wagon. it’s probably witnessed a great many crazy things in the last 30 years, certainly enough to trade its paint for dents and patches of rust while outlasting most of its contemporaries. this then is a fighter, a great survivor of many things and will probably continue to plod on for years to come. bravo.
first stage of the 2010 Dakar Rally and we already have a fatality: someone accidentally went off-course and hit several spectators, one of which died of her injuries while on the way to the hospital. let’s hope this is the only incident of its kind this year. stay safe out there, guys.
