Hot Rod Angel
04-19-2010, 10:45 AM
OK, so I wasn't real sure where to put this, so I figured here was as good as any place...:)
I like to write, and I am rather pleased with how this came out, so I thought I would share....I would love to hear what you think....
Stand there on any given day, and you will likely hear the ghosts of the racers before you. In this peculiar place where time stands still, and goes by at speeds faster than one can imagine, a vast spanse of flat reaches as far as the eye can see and stretches out to meet the horizon. This is a hot-rodders sacred ground, the holy grail of speed. Your feet seem to tread lighter here, and your lungs fill with air that's crisp and salty and unlike anything you have ever drawn in to your body before. This is where dreams become reality, records are broken, and winning the race against time is everything. This is Bonneville.
Long shadows creep slowly across the track, created by the rising sun. The air is still, but close your eyes and allow your senses to be flooded with the sounds of tires crackling over the salt, the gears being shifted, the engines singing a symphony of velocity, and, if you listen closely, the ticking of the timing association clocks, marking every second that passes with precise, purposeful rhythm. Every day here is like the first, waiting with the anticipation of a child at Christmas, for that one week a year to arrive. The week when everything is put on the long, thin black line that is only found at the Salt Flats.
It's been said that this place is haunted by a strange sense of clarity...perhaps from the countless legends that have been born on the salt, the impossibilities that became reality. Their names echo forever against the mountains that have witnessed them all...Spirit of America...Mormon Meteor...Bluebird...Thunderbolt. This is a place to honor those who have dared to challenge sensible thinking, and will continue to spark the imaginations of many generations to come, fueling their late night dreams of speed and freedom.
I like to write, and I am rather pleased with how this came out, so I thought I would share....I would love to hear what you think....
Stand there on any given day, and you will likely hear the ghosts of the racers before you. In this peculiar place where time stands still, and goes by at speeds faster than one can imagine, a vast spanse of flat reaches as far as the eye can see and stretches out to meet the horizon. This is a hot-rodders sacred ground, the holy grail of speed. Your feet seem to tread lighter here, and your lungs fill with air that's crisp and salty and unlike anything you have ever drawn in to your body before. This is where dreams become reality, records are broken, and winning the race against time is everything. This is Bonneville.
Long shadows creep slowly across the track, created by the rising sun. The air is still, but close your eyes and allow your senses to be flooded with the sounds of tires crackling over the salt, the gears being shifted, the engines singing a symphony of velocity, and, if you listen closely, the ticking of the timing association clocks, marking every second that passes with precise, purposeful rhythm. Every day here is like the first, waiting with the anticipation of a child at Christmas, for that one week a year to arrive. The week when everything is put on the long, thin black line that is only found at the Salt Flats.
It's been said that this place is haunted by a strange sense of clarity...perhaps from the countless legends that have been born on the salt, the impossibilities that became reality. Their names echo forever against the mountains that have witnessed them all...Spirit of America...Mormon Meteor...Bluebird...Thunderbolt. This is a place to honor those who have dared to challenge sensible thinking, and will continue to spark the imaginations of many generations to come, fueling their late night dreams of speed and freedom.