A Small bit about me, Big time.

Growing up in a small suburban town, there was one thing and one thing only I dreamed of: Race car Driver stardom. However, as in many small towns across the UK, this was a dream that was shared with 95% of the entire township (the other 5% of town-folk dreaming of mere box-car racer stardom, but hey, we can’t all dream big, I guess. If we did well then it wouldn’t be called dreaming big at all, would it? It would be dreaming not big.) So catching said dream would be no walk in the park, or ‘drive in the park’ to coin a phrase, but I persevered.

And alas, on my 14th birthday, an entire year before the sprouting of my first pubic hair (p-day), fortune favoured me. Taking part in a ‘pick-up’ race with some uncle-tom-kids from the local estate, I noticed a strange man observing the race. I thought to myself, “that man looks like a talent scout”. The man was a talent scout, and upon reaching the finish line, after a wonderful race where I came a close second, he offered me a lucrative contract on his racing team, the Tumbling Thunders. I accepted, and remorsefully left my home behind. So that was it, after an extended goodbye to my wife (( oh yeah!) it being the norm in small towns to marry at the age of 12, of course.), I left the town. I watched, with blurry, tear-filled eyes at the big lights of the city grow from the horizon, like a tree, but sped up like they did that time on Life by David Attenborough.

My first few weeks in the city seemed to fly by, I spent much time searching for a big apple, like I’d heard so much about. I eventually found one in Stoke’s Greengrocer’s, but it was smaller than I expected. But, not even misleadingly small fruit could take my mind off why I was there, the Big Race Cup. The day of the race came. There I was lining up on the grid of the Big Race Cup Raceway, right next to my teammate and lifelong pal Dak, who died in the race. The ‘drive’ flag waved and the cars rushed off the line. I took a sharp right turn into the first corner, which was a left, cutting into Dak and sending him off the track in a blazing inferno. The race was cancelled, due to Dak’s untimely death and I have never put a foot in a car again. And I don’t like to turn right much neither.


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