Limits of Traction

No coffee this morning. This line instead kicked my day into gear at West Virginia’s Bill Scott Raceway:

We’re gonna be at the limits of traction this morning…

Limits of traction, and limits of digestion. Following the hard-braking exercises through the serpentine, I left the Crown Vic to hurl my breakfast at the woods. No shame in that: I got right back in and stood on the pedal for more.

Ramming barricades, drifting on the skid pad, high speed work in reverse. So much more.

And what’s up for discussion as the track sped beneath our feet?

The excellent trout in an under-fished stream behind the track at Lime Rock Park in Lakeville Connecticut where my instructor raced, in a previous life. The speedway visible from the Appalachian Trail and the hang-glider launch on the shoulders between Sharon Mountain and Easter Mountain where I used to hike, in a previous life.

No coffee today, boy.

 

 

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