Such a drag

Allegedly, a few months ago I agreed with Ian that I'd go to watch some drag racing over the bank holiday weekend. I have little recollection of this conversation but last week I went through with the promise.

I can't really tell you an awful lot about the racing itself, mainly because I spent the 7 hours (no, really) that we sat in the grandstands fearing that I was sure to plummet to my death. Have you seen Final Destination? I was starting to feel like the film with the racing incident was actually a documentary. The grandstand where we sat gave a great view of the quarter mile of track we needed to see, however they were made of the most rickety wood I have ever seen, rotten and flexing as you climbed the stairs. I sat rigid, my arse bones digging into the wooden seat, trying desperately not to move too much because it felt like the whole thing moved whenever I did. This Final Destination fear wasn't helped by Ian's friend telling us about a man who once dropped dead in the crowd of spectators after a piece of shrapnel from a car flew through the air and landed in his chest.

Observations

- I had to wear my gig ear plugs because the noise of the cars was so fucking loud 

- A lot of the junior racers and one or two of the grown up racers were girls/women. I was pleasantly surprised about this, it was really nice to see

- That someone managed to get a car I would love (a '90s Peugeot 205) up to 130something mph in the space of a quarter of a mile 

- During the first race, just as I was texting my friend suggesting that we could have a go at it in our cars, one of the cars veered across the track and smashed into a barrier, I swiftly changed my mind.

Despite what I said up there, on the way home I suggested to Ian that he should get his Midget back on the road and we could become a racing team. It must've been a moment of madness on my part, I even said "there's enough room for a much bigger engine in there, isn't there?" I don't know what I was thinking, I really don't. I also suggested I should do the driving because I'm lighter and so we'd have a weight advantage. I have rethought this lunatic idea now, I need the kitchen finished before one of us kills ourselves racing down a drag track. It's a dangerous business whether you're spectating or participating. 

Where we sat, see what I mean? I actually couldn't sit on the kitchen chair the next day without a cushion for support, the bones in my arse were just too sore. Yes yes, I know I shouldn't complain about that but I was so sore, I really was.