Addicted to Speed

Speaking of speed, last Tuesday I was reminded again of how I wouldn’t trade this one hell of a job with any ergonomic chair-based office work. I was given an assignment on karting (to the excitement of my car-crazy friends). Being irrationally prudent almost all my life, I don’t exactly trust anything that moves fast. Not that I’m accident-prone or something, but for some reason unfortunate events tend to happen when I move too fast—glassware and tableware are knocked over, heels get stuck in between sidewalk cracks, heads are accidentally banged against a wall of glass, slip of the tongues are hurled at the wrong time—simple (and totally coincidental) things like that. And so having an assignment that involves a great amount of speed didn’t exactly thrill me at first.


At that point I was ready to turn the article over to Getty who, given enough encouragement, can actually write so well. It doesn’t hurt too that he knows so much about cars and engine. But the cosmos didn’t allow me to get away with it that easily. Later that day I learned that the photographer will be taking photos of me and the mean machine (watch out for this those of you who will be flying out in July). I mean machines like that hate me; they have minds of their own! I could just imagine my kart flying and flipping over (on second thought, this would actually look good in the picture), and before I know it, the poor me would be lying on a stretcher.


But all the agitation vanished into thin air when I met Jean, the French guy who manages the karting facility at Km 18 West Service Road in Sucat, Parañaque. City Kart is the country’s first indoor and outdoor go-kart racing track with an elevated bridge that overlooks the Tagaytay Lake. At City Kart, racers use four-stroke engines that can go as fast as 150 to 160 kmph. However, because of the kart’s skeletal frame, karting delivers a thrilling sensation of speed even at 40 to 60 kmph.



I heaved a long sigh of relief when Jean personally discussed the safety features of the karts and the adeptness of the marshals. He also said that I wasn’t the first chicken shit to ever try karting as a leisure activity. As a matter of fact, go-kart racing is slowly becoming a popular teambuilding option for large companies and universities. But the best part of it all, Jean was nice enough to let all seven of us have two 12-minute rounds (Au and Getty got to have three!) for free.


In case you’re wondering, one round costs 600 bucks per person. That’s like twice the daily earnings of minimum wage workers. How could 12 minutes of one person’s life be enough to feed one family for two days?! I’m assuming that only filthy rich boys who are totally oblivious of the widespread poverty and the soaring prices of gasoline would be heartless enough to enjoy such a ridiculously expensive sport. That’s simply not right! That’s totally insane! And most of all, that was awfully, sinfully awesome! The guilt was there, alright, but karting felt so damn good it was worth every penny. My verdict: I can starve myself for two days any time in exchange for 12 minutes of pure and unadulterated freedom. I love it, I love every single second of that 12 minutes.


So what’s the rush all about? If you’re as fast as Au, who averages about 1.0 minute per lap, that would mean 12 glorious laps in the 700-meter race track. But for lesser creatures like me, who at best finished at 1.27, every lap was a means to be better, faster, and more addicted to speed. My first few laps took me almost a couple of minutes, I was cautious at every turn. By the time the second round began, I was already getting the hang of it. It was like a mechanical force was urging me to step on it harder, strip off another layer of inhibition, and go the extra mile. As the race progressed, I became more and more drawn to beating the guy (or girl) ahead of me, which actually never happened (I was always the one who gets the blue flag, which by the way means “give way to the faster guy behind you”). But the point is a competitive sense was awakened inside of me, and that sense—which is almost like a mania—kept me all pumped up even way after the race was over. The adrenaline rush was so at an all-time high that I got off the kart shaking with excitement. No kidding, that was the best 12 minutes of my life!