Don't They Know Who I Think I Am?

I'm late. I wake up to a race. I have so much to do at work today, and I am already starting behind: right from the green.

I race into my pit stall while still trying to get my fire suit on. (I'm going to need it with the heat I am going to take.) My black #4 is cold, as I crank the ignition with those most famous words of motorsports ringing in my head. I go through a quick checklist as I read the dashboard. Power is good, fuel is full, seatbelt is on, but the engine temp is too low. Got to take it easy going through the neighborhood before I reach the highway.

I live in the suburbs, and work downtown. I share the track at this late hour with like-minded competitors. The clock is ticking. Get fast!

I take my first left turn to merge into the race. Damn, give me some room. We're just getting started; they are already racing me hard. We have a long way to go till the checkers. I take note of my engine temp; she is warm and ready to lay it down. I calculate my move and make a strong motion for a minimum space amongst the traffic. I give it some gas, but she gets loose on me. My tires are still cold. I crank the wheel and catch a lucky groove. I quickly glance at the rearview. The car behind me gets on the break, and gives me some room. Ha..., rookie.

I'm keeping pace on the outside wall as I wait for my chance at the inside lane. I have driven this track a hundred times, and I know my line. Another quarter mile till the turn, and I have to get down on the track to avoid the marbles. My tires are warming up, but I can't take any chance at getting into debris. I can feel the horsepower kick in as I force the gear ratio to make up for my lack of confidence in my grip. The bottom line is mine with a good two feet to the car in front of me.

Everyone gets out of the gas as they approach the turn, and we all come into it at the same speed. As we are coming off the center, I realize the car in front of me is trying to go high, leaving me all alone on the lower groove. I test the throttle and find my tires right underneath me. I open it up and get off the corner with full RPM's.

The straight is all mine as I leave everyone in my rearview mirror. No pace car in site, and absolutely no sign of any cautions. I come into the dogleg at top speed. I am almost downtown. White flag.

I've got one car that I am coming up on quickly, and they are holding the low line as I stare down their back bumper. I come out of the gas, and shake off any dirty air coming off their back spoiler. We draft through the last stretch of the back straight, as I wait for my move. Timing is everything, and I am confident. 50 feet to turn 4, and I get on the throttle and drive into the high lane. The slingshot works every time, and I caught them by surprise as I make my pass and cut them off before the off ramp.

I pat my steering wheel in triumph as I check my time. 10 ticks off my best lap, but where I place is what they all notice. I get to the finish line and meet that last passed car as I turn off the track. A scorned face and pumping fist challenges my bravado, but I shrug it off.

Don't they know who I think I am?