Ready,Set,Go

 

Get Ready, Get Set, and Go

I am not a car aficionado but, by osmosis, I have been surrounded by people especially men, who enjoy the gasoline smell. I can classify those men who are and used to be in my life circle as those intrigued by automotive engineer parts, crazy racing car fans, and men devoted to car design.

Observing and learning how car engines work, were my father and father in- law’s way of life. They raised their families by combining necessity and passion. My father loves to rebuild and engineer for economic reasons, and my father in law, fixes people’s cars. Both of them taught me how to appreciate a good hand for service. One taught me how to use stich shift and how to drive uphill, how to stop there, and how to park there. He also shows me how to save money reusing a car’s battery. The other taught me how to clean a tool and how to listen to the engine. I could write a book about those men and their intriguing car garages.

Heritage, and the knowledge about the basics of car mechanics, allowed me to follow my husband’s passion for racing cars. Suddenly, I was learning about Juan Manuel Fangio, Emerson Fittipaldi, the great battle between Nelson Piquet and Nigel Manssel in the 80’s and the legacy of Ayrton Senna, which is the name of one of my nephews .Every time I am bumping into someone who is crazy about Formula One. Some are crazy to following beyond the TV. They go to the races. Others do not have the impetus yet to stand up and actually to the races.

 If we see life as a car, life runs fast as a racing car, and it brought a devoted car design fan into my life. My son knows how the Ferrari 1982 is distinguished from the Ferrari 1984, something that I never knew about. He keeps asking me about car design and manufacturing and if I know how much they cost. I keep saying, “I do not know. “I remember one day, I saw a car that at one time I was interested in, but I could not read the name of the brand. The only thing that caught my attention was the front of the car symbol. It was a small, silver statue of a woman with wings, and her arms were reaching to the sky. I t was a beautiful image that I never forgot, but I did not know about the car. Later my son easily found out which car I was referring about. He said, “Among many cars in the world, why do you have to choose the most expensive to like?”

Being surrounded by car lovers indirectly makes me appreciated these machines that, in my opinion are developed to serve mankind, not to be served. Because I love those crazy, affectionate, and intriguing car fans, I do like cars as well.