The Allegory of the Track
For some years I was a Porsche Club track Driving Instructor. All kinds of cars and drivers come to the track. At first they know only what every Driver’s License holder knows: nothing. Absolutely nothing. Less than nothing even. A combination of BS and lies.
First thing they all do is head over to the fastest, lowest, wingiest looking car they can find to gape and gaw while trying not to drool all over their brand new Pilotti’s.
Then they all go out and, confronted with the reality of just how much total concentration and just how freaking hard it is to drive well, not to mention how expensive it is, they quit. Usually before they get very good at what should have been the reason for coming in the first place, driving.
Which is a shame.
A persistent few, the wise ones anyway, they notice a few things. Like there are some guys who day after day seem to really be having fun and even manage to steadily and regularly pass in spite of driving much older, cheaper, less crazy looking cars. Cars that don’t even need a trailer to get to the track. Cars they actually enjoy driving on everyday public roads.
Some even come to understand what the Instructor said about smoother being faster. The Zen-, or Yoda- if you prefer, like saying that to go fast don’t drive fast, drive well.
Other guys eventually notice how fast they are. Start asking questions. Which are always, How much horsepower? Or something like that. Never, Why’d you take that line? How do you look so smooth? Or anything like that.
And the skilled driver, because that’s what he is now, to his credit he does try to explain. But they have no patience. Off they run to gape and gaw at the Next Big Thing being rolled off a trailer.
