Sebring in the clowns
Today's the day. Randy from the Cayman Islands, Dana from Carolina, Ray from California. All have flown in for Sebring race week. Yours truly will not be with my close friends because I must (ugh) continue to earn a living. My homeys will be heading to the track this morning, a venue in what used to be a sleepy little Florida town now bursting with new, ugly, obnoxious strip malls and cheaply built, cookie cutter residential developments.
Sebring has been home to five decades' worth of fine road racing that featured nearly every major driver on the planet. It was the place where Ford tested and retested its famed GT-40 when it vowed to unseat Ferrari as king of the circuits. This year, Lola and Maserati will attempt to end the dominance that Audi has enjoyed for the past three years.
Race trips are fun, to say the least, particularly on the road racing circuit. While I enjoy stock and Indy car racing, circuit fans seem a bit happier, a great deal friendlier, and just a touch crazier.
Fans are no-nonsense during the races and are very much into racing technology and high-speed photography. After the day's events are over, however, there always seems to be the obligatory coed mud slide competitions, community games, communal showers, females very willing to follow instructions flashed on homemade signs, and track-walking. When walking the track at the end of the day's events, you stumble from campfire to campfire and partake of the generous hospitality offered. You will never go hungry, thirsty, or sober.
The fact that Sebring opens tomorrow, St. Patrick's Day, is a bonus. The weather will be clear and the track jumping. Not that it matters to me; I have to settle for reading about it.