Friday, November 7, 2014

The Art of Racing in the Rain in More Ways than One can Conjure...




A "Scruffy" Tomaso and his two favourite Nofendersville Assistants hard at work contemplating their collective navels somewheres' on thy Oregonian Trail... (The Tomaso Collection)
Yeah, I'll begin with the overly obvious, that life is more than just a cliché, but; once again why did it take me six years to finally read this truly AWESOME book! (Or a further Fortnight-plus's time to find its rightful insertion spot on thy No Fenders blog...)

As my head is exploding literally; Uhm? May be its the drinks some Nyquil puts Yuhs into a coma knocks your cold flat out state 'O mind I'm in right now? Or because I haven't had any Nyquil; Oh Never Mind! Which I guess is the polite way of saying "TMI!" Eh? But I digress...

Perhaps Y'all have heard of Garth Stein's Mega' HIT book titled The Art of Racing in the Rain, which was published 'Wayback in 'Twenty-oh-Eight and having reportedly sold over 4-million copies now, of which I'd first been informed of by "Greg-the-Drummer, " of thy Nofendersville "House Band" The Dave Allen Trio; Uhm, Dave's NOT Here; Hooah!

Then Linda, who's not even remotely interested in racing read I-T this past spring and told me about it - as I finally requested it on my current favourite medium, i.e.; "Talking Books," or what I prefer to call "Audiobooks" which equals Compact Disc (CD) format, which naturally my first request arrived whilst away in the "Otter;" Err Other Florence, in thee state 'O those DAMN DUCKS! Did Y'all catch that bit 'O cleverness 'Thar, eh? Hooah! (Having scribbled this whilst waiting for this year's eagerly awaited Huskies vs. Ducks PAC 12 Football game three weeks ago...)

As somewhat symbiotically, I treasured every moment of this book, whilst I've long since lost interest in completing what for Mwah is the Herculean task of physically reading The Life of Senna, having come to a screeching halt somewheres' around page 308 of 500! Whilst surely 'El Zorro's (Alex Zanardi) wry comment of falling into a cadence of counting to 333 on his Handbike when contesting this year's Ironman triathlon wasn't a 'Co-inky-dence, right?


And as the book's primary character "Enzo" denotes, the Karmic Whip snaps, crackles 'N smacks us in many wonderful, mystical ways, as perhaps Enzo had sent "Sheba" to bark at me in the night to remind me soothingly that my original book request had fallen thru thy proverbial cracks upon my return when listening to Seattle Times columnist Nicole Brodeur's  story upon the book's author Garth Stein primping mightily for his newest book release in; which I'd just listened to via my NFB Newsline For the Blind telephone news service a mere week before getting the book finally!


As I'd wanted to use the word Soliloquy in some cleverly crafted title for this post, but not sure if I'd be using it correctly, which if nothing else, I've been forced to learn how to speel I-T correctly; Hya!

Yet, there's so much synchronicity in this book for Mwah, which is A-L-L about racing in the rain, but is truly a book about life instead of racing; Hmm? Why does spelling the word truly make me always think of "Professor" Steve Matchett's "Trulli Scrumptious," nee Italiano ex-Formula 1 Piloto' Jarno Trulli!

Whilst even if in the perspective of  "Man's Best Friend," which I totally know a two certain FURR-rocious' lap Hoonds are for Mwah, as get to thee point 'O-L-D MAN, wills Yuh for Enzo's Sake! And QUIT Howling at thy Moon, or are Yuhs just barking twice to GO FASTER?

Having lived in Covington, Washington before it was a city, being situated perhaps 15mins at best from what was then SIR, aka Seattle International Raceway, which has reverted back to its original name of Pacific Raceways in Kent, WA, Messer Stein's book was refreshing for me since I know the track intimately, not to mention knowing of local racers Don Kitch, Jr. and Ross Bentley, having actually witnessed the latter racing for Dale Coyne's CART Team at the Molson Indy Vancouver, BC nearly a quarter century ago!

Patrick Dempsey Racing Ferrari 430GT. (Image source: bing.com)
While ironically, or Karmically? Mr. Kitch has links to "Dr. McDreamy," aka Patrick Dempsey, whom I believe still holds the rights to the books intended B-I-G' SCREEN adaptation... Not to mention previously racing a Ferrari 430GT at Le Mans NO less!


As who cares if there's such A thing as reincarnation? As Enzo the Dog, not “Il Commendatore,” nee Enzo Ferrari who was a nasty DAWG' in his own right! Spends copious amounts of time explaining about how when he comes back as a man he'll walk up to Dennis Swift, aka "Denny," his master and say Enzo says Hello, yet cannot even manage  to run across the street withough getting hit by a car! Hmm? Why did it just zap me like a lightning bolt? Denny, Denny Hulme? Just Sayin... Not to even mention the whole story taking place in my home city!

As I've still got tucked away in a drawer somewheres' in Tomaso Manor the Road & Track article of Phil Hill poundin' round Pacific Raceways in one of la Scuderia's most exquisite Sports Car racer creations simply known as the 333SP! As MoMo Mia, I'd have LUV'ed to have been present to hear the "Puc, Puc, Puc" of the fury of Phil tapping his baton upon the shrieking red rockets paddle shifter tapestry at that overly  quaint 1960's racing facility...

Or the fact that for Mwah, when I think of the word Zebra, I think of my good friends "The Dutchies," aka Tanja & Alvin in Sweden, who taught me long ago that in Holland "Zebra's" are what they call pedestrian crosswalks... Whilst Enzo correctly points out that they're our fear inside of us, which I guess idyllically would be in "layman's" terms thee "Boogieman;" YIKES!

As I don't recall who I just recently heard say I-T! That NO driver likes racing in the rain, yet also recall hearing one of the modern day 'Reinmeister's, a chap currently taking a long winter's nap known here in Nofendersville as 'DER TERMINATOR! Nee Ralfanso's less famous brother Michael Schumacher; Hya! That he could actually hear the car's four corners talk to him in the rain and he truly was one BAD ARSE HOMBRE in the WET stuff in his heyday! As what's that race in Spain(?) he won for la Scuderia to signal the future coming of the Prancing Horse's dominance 'Wayback in 1996.

 Fittingly Michael's debutant victory for la Scuderia in a sickly sounding Ferrari where he won in Barcelona by some 45+ seconds ahead of Jean Alesi's Benetton and Jacques Villeneuve's Williams, along with Schuey's fastest lap of the race being 2.2-seconds quicker than anybody else's!

As its funny to Mwah; Ha-ha, that I've just read Mr. Stein's total Tear Jerker ten years exactly after Schuey's final F1 championship title, attending Suzuka in a typhoon while also being the twentieth anniversary of Senna's death at Imola, and it almost seems somewhat preordained, that Jules Bianchi would sadly be lying in hospital right now! And if not him, then some other driver somewheres' in the world.

As I truly wish for nothing but the best for Monsieur Jules, and in NO way am implying that it's his fault, but simply trying to say that perhaps as the book says, Bianchi's trying to teach us something... As I truly ruminate the day that thy Mad Molly makes her exit for greener pastures, but sincerely hope she'll at least bark twice to GO FASTER! As all I want in life is what Enzo say's: One More Lap!

BASTA!

For the Seattle Times recent interview upon Garth Stein's newest novel, Y'all may wish to check out the following;

Art of Racing in the Rain' author GarthStein delivers new novel

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