Call it a hobby, call it a sickness, call it whatever you feel. But if you read this site, and have an interest in just about anything we might possibly post, chances are good that you suffer from the same affliction that we do: if there is an engine involved…or speed…or engineering…or even if there’s enough noise to piss off everybody in the county, you want to be a part of it. You might be the type who wants to learn how everything works together to make a car that should only do 85 miles an hour run 250 or better on the salt. You might be the type who is competitive and wants to win at whatever they can. We like all types around here, if the stories on low riders, tractors, and mid-1970s crapboxes didn’t tip you off. We get it…but your loved ones, friends and family, might not.
The first time my family figured out I might be one of the cursed ones, I had yet to drive a motorized anything. I was four years old, and had my own Big Wheel. And where I lived, on a hill in northern Colorado Springs, was a neighborhood filled with kids…with Big Wheels…and one healthy slope with several run-off yards along the side. We would line up at one tar-filled crack at the top, push off with our feet sitting on the center bar, away from the pedals, and would fly down the hill. Sometimes we would make it to the bottom…other times, I would wind up in the yucca plant in front of my grandfather’s house. The incident where I took my aunt’s Cobra II for a joyride put the fear into my mother, and by the time I was 12 I had a car, a dirt bike, and enough skill that I could make my dirt bikes fly. Maybe not land all of the time, but I worked on that.
As I write this, my aunt is asking about Barbie Jeep racing, wondering if I’m involved. All you need to know is that she traded either a Monte Carlo or Chevelle (I can’t remember which) in on a Volvo station wagon in the late 1980s. As I work up an explanation that won’t have her asking my brother to have me committed, I want to hear from you guys: how do you explain the late nights, the financial involvement, the third cast on your arm this year, or the fact that you have grease around your fingernails that won’t clean out for a week?
For those who understand, no explanation is necessary.
For those who don’t, no explanation is possible.
I gave up trying to explain years ago and my family gave up asking!
Cotton39, NAILED IT!
explain it? I can’t,but my mom knew I wasn’t out getting girls pregnant and my wife knows she doesn’t have to drag me out of bars.
Now coming home at 5am spelling of gear oil…..
*smelling of gear oil.lol
Triumph motorcycles had an ad a few years ago in Cycle World. It pictured a hot chick in skimpy nightwear alone in a bedroom. The caption below it said “If it was another woman, at least I could compete”.
Enough said.
Explain Motorsports, oh that’s simple. It’s like a roller coaster you get steer. Scary, thrilling, loud, noisy etc etc…..
Explain Motorsports, oh that’s simple. It’s like a roller coaster you get to steer. Scary, thrilling, loud, noisy etc etc…..
“As I work up an explanation that won’t have her asking my brother to have me committed…” classic
I blame my older brothers for my motorized obsession. My parents wouldn’t even let me have a V8 powered car until I was 20! My first V8 car? 1970 383 Cuda conv’t!
Its all about emotion. The feels man.
I know this because it doesn’t make sense/cents otherwise.
if you yourself have felt what we feel, then you know why.
if you havent, then you never will.
basically if you gotta explain it-they wouldnt
understand anyway.
and as noted above-my mom and now my wife are
happy that i like to hang out at a closed burgerking parking lot
at 3 am with a bunch of other car nuts like me
instead of drinking, hanging out in strip clubs,
spending $$ on a new harley ( build it instead! ), spending my
life at a game console, gambling, etc…. or the
many many MANY things i see so many people
doing instead.
This is easy to explain to “others” You just have to put it in the context they understand.
Males, compare it to whatever ball sport they follow, they know the stats, who is hurt, you get traded,etc..
Women, same deal, most know more about Hollywood’s beautiful people than the people on their block, or what designer is the one to pay way to much for to only wear once, (like it’s a sin to be seen in the same outfit twice)
compare it to whatever interest they are into, and they get it..
This week end most males have their yearly, unless someone died, don’t say a word while the game is on..
We have the Winter nationals or the Daytona 500 and speed week..
It’s not a hard hobby to get others to understand, it really isn’t..
Many don’t “get it” because it cost a ton, but those that played on a league hockey/baseball/etc understand the cost, as they spend a wheel barrel of cash,
Take your buddy that doesn’t “get it ” to a test and tune, and toss him the helmet and the keys, and it’ll only take one run to set the hook..
Maybe the issue is most don’t invite their non-car hobby buddies to events, so they have no clue on the fun they are missing