There is nothing like the raw power, heat and allure of a fire. Or racing.
Friction, controlled and uncontrolled destruction, passion, flickering hope dancing toward the sky and dreams envisioned in the glow and breathing of red hot embers and white ash.
Checkers or wreckers is the mantra for the underdog racer trying to ignite a career from a burning passion. White knuckles on a worn steering wheel praying a metal machine right while physically turning left; praying for one more drift in a final turn toward glory on worn tires.
As the flames fan, flicker and fade, the fate of the racer blazes ahead toward infamy.
The Bob Zima Blog 