with Dana Rowe
By Dana R. Rowe
Dents,
creases,
traded paint and tire swirls.
gnarled bumpers,
cracked fiberglass,
peeling paint:
season grows long.
future of flash
subdued in clash.
opening day.
looked like Daytona,
four wearying months
have dulled luster
on the metal.
Some return, re-hammered flat,
repainted shiny
week after week, after week.
Others just tighten their suspension bolts,
adjust the caster and camber,
change the oil,
tune the powerplant;
but can only barely worry over cosmetics
Vernal Equinox Intentions:
win the division;
finish top 5;
learning curve;
just plain survive:
have met themselves,
been modified again and again.
each week's toll taken
in torn body metal,
in detonated engines,
in shattered suspension,
in bent frames,
in expectations.
some are gone:
toll too great,
finances consumed,
wherewithal evaporated.
resigned to silence.
some present themselves in the stands;
some move to other teams;
some sit to televisions on Saturday race nights.
Still:
most make it to the pits:
blue collar community;
milling, thriving, industrious;
jovial, bellicose;
jocular, fraternal:
ever hopeful.
faded t-shirts,
ball caps,
helmets,
and fire suits.
Clamber in though windows to custom seats;
friendly hands help strap them in.
switch on,
engine roars,
familiar.
friendly pat on shoulder
thumb is up
and a smile erupts behind the face shield
as bright as a midnight supernova.
cheers, grins, wahoos
for that which is about to transpire!