Takes Two to Tango!

Seated tight – almost as if I am one size too big. Feels like my shoulders are going to come off, and hang from my throat’s hyoid bone. It had been almost a decade since I got into a proper single-seater race car. And there I was, in a foreign land, ready to floor the pedal to see if I was still half as good as I used to be in my years of whatever little racing I’d done. No words can explain how tense I was. With no idea of what to expect, I listened carefully as Paul gave me instructions on how to get the car moving. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be alright,” he said to me – a guy who’s been forced to wear a Matador outfit and thrown into the arena to fight a very annoyed bull. I’ll be alright – I keep repeating this statement, almost in sarcasm.

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