Behind the Wheels

"So who's doing this for the first time?" Jeff Freihuber looked around, expecting hands in the air.

There were seven of us, dressed in racing suits, helmet in hand, feeling uneasy in balaclavas. Two hands rose -- Gracee's and mine. At least I'm not the only newbie.

I've never tried karting before. Much as I want to try it when I was in college, I never had the time to visit City Kart Racing in Paranaque, the first indoor go kart place in the Philippines. And because I'm in the lifestyle job, I'm trying this out, two years later.

After the orientation, we all headed to the tracks and rode in our karts. I was lucky number 10. The staff gave the signal and the first kart drove to the track. When my turn came, I was ecstatic. Being on a real kart is different than arcade races. If I were able to ace the virtual games, I was far from acing this one. Bumping into the tires became common. My kart was always out of control. I was one crazy driver.

It went on for four laps. My back stiffed and beads of sweat covered my body. A blue flag waved, the marshal looked at me. Make way for a faster racer behind you, his eyes tell me. I pushed the pedal harder. No, I won't let her (majority of the racers were women) overtake me. It went for a while, my kart blocking the road as she struggled to pass me. I couldn't put her off. The blue flag waved faster, hand now directly pointing at me. I slowed down and moved to the side, admitting defeat.

An unexplainable sensation filled me as the other kart drove past. It was something more than a competitive drive; a burning feeling of going faster and faster. It was a thirst for speed. I pressed the gas pedal harder and my kart zoomed forward. I can feel my helmet flinched backward with the sudden gush of wind.

Faster I heard myself say, faster. The engine roared as I pushed the gas pedal the second time. My hands clasped the steering wheel tightly. I felt the heat of the engine on my right. The screeching sound of tires on cement filled my ears.

I neared a turning point and I pushed the brakes. Too late. My kart hit the piled up tires near the pit and darkness covered my eyes. My head hit the wheel.

The speed was gone. I stopped. So abrupt that I felt my body shivered from the sudden lost of momentum. I raised my hand and one of the marshals pushed the kart away from the tires. He pointed to the pit. With my last ounce of strength, I pushed the gas and headed to the pit.

"What happened?" Jeff asked.

I took my helmet off. "The helmet...I guess it was a bit big for me." It was partly true. He took it, adjusted the foam inside and gave it back. Donning my helmet, he pointed to the opening and with hand signals, instructed to get into the race again.

For the hundredth time, I bumped to the tires of the pit. I wanted to curse myself. Why is it that I can't do anything right after I made a mistake? It was like a curse. Even if I want to do it correctly, something lapses and I ended up doing another fault.

Focus, Lei, focus. Calm down. Breathe.

I closed my eyes and sat comfortably on the seat. I pushed the gas pedal and the kart lurched forward. Wind greeted my face and with legs trembling, I instinctively pushed the brakes for the curve. I'll get it right this time. As I neared the curve, I pushed the gas harder and turned the steering wheel. The engine roared again, my heart beats wildly, my body moved along with the kart.

I felt it, the movement of the the cables, the gas, the tires. I was moving with it. My weight and the pressure of my hands, one with the vehicle, one with the road, one with the wheel.

My kart made a successful turn and I again faced straight road. I gained speed and did the same process whenever a curve comes close. Indoor, outdoor, smooth road, rough road, bridge -- everything went well. Less bumps, more focus, more speed.

When the race ended, the marshal showed our time. I made my fastest indoor lap in 58 seconds and my outdoor lap at one minute and 28 seconds. It then struck me. We were racing with time. And with ourselves.

We had a hearty lunch of BTL sandwich and Gatorade after the race. Now in my casual clothes, I felt like racing again. Despite the crazy antics my kart and I did on the road, I could not forget the what its like behind the wheel.

I couldn't blame Howard Hughes if he developed this addiction for speed. It was a great feeling -- running faster and faster, running after victory, going ahead of people, speed itself. But then, I need to slow down. It can be the scariest, losing the intensity, the drive, the feeling of motion. But slowing down humbled me. It made me come to my senses, made me realize that as much as I get things from speeding up, I also gain insights from slowing down. It made me come to terms of my losses, so I may gain more. - 5/14/2008