But seriously, this cheeses me off. I got the Breaking News alert from Jalopnik, then later got an email from one of the lead SCCA volunteers that the race was off.
Last year I missed the chance to flag the races because of a death in the family. The year before I decided to spectate only, because I was a flagger newbie.
Upset doesn't begin to describe my feelings at the moment.
Please bring LeMons to Belle Isle. That new paddock has to be good for something other than blighting green space! Proceeds could go to buying bulldozers and dump trucks for the city of Detroit.
@74ta455: Yes, I agree. How about a "Detroit Grand Prix Edition" of LeMons. Celebrating (?) Detroit's finest Iron. A large catapult or Trebuchet could be used to fling the People's Curse winner into the Detroit River. Now THAT's Motoring Excitement!
Mabey racing will get back into the hands of the people for a while. The cars might not be fantastic but the racing will. Time to haul out those old small-block Can-Am cars. I am old enough to remember when sponsors were honored to have their decal on the side of a car. Racing was done mostly by rich Texans who paid for most everything out of their own pockets. Drivers were real people who spoke their minds and actually got into brawls. Cars were real cars and the racing was superb. This is only the end of racing as we know it. What comes next may be better. Or not. Who knows?
@TR3-A: Agreed, but if the "rich Texan" comment refers specifically to Jim Hall, it's worth remembering that he got more than a little backdoor help from the General.
(And my jealousy of guys like you who were alive at that time is boundless.)
@Parkesborough: ALMS is run by Don Panoz, he gets most of his money from pharmeticuticles so he probably isn't hurting too much yet. Of course it is wait and see on how many teams end up pulling out. Over half the field is usually just rich boys and their toys with only about 1/4 of the field top racers. Not as much for the LMP1 and LMP2 as the GT2 category, which is usually over half the field anyways.
There was a semi-homeless man who used to hang around my old place of employment. Every so often I'd see him when I'd duck outside for a smoke. I'd give him one and we'd chat for a bit. The man was absolutely brilliant. Sharp as a whip, knew more about the goings-on of the world than most other people I knew. He had been middle-management for a resource engineering firm, making extremely good money. Then the stress got to him, and his drinking got worse and worse. He lost his family, his car, his house, his job. He told me once that he had, at that point, been clean and sober for two years, but it was far too late. Nobody would hire him, he was in his early 70s, in poor health from living on the street, and he knew he was one drink away from being an alcoholic again.
They found him, dead in a doorway, back in June, a few days before I moved away from town. His liver finally failed on him, and he didn't make it to the hospital. Knowing him, he never even tried. I'm pretty sure he would have thought, "Why waste money keeping me alive, when there are so many kids who need the doctor's attention, with their whole lives ahead of them?" That's kind of how he was.
I'll admit I shed a tear or two when I heard that news, and that photo made me a little nostalgic. Here's to ya, Robert Grain.
Sorry all, I'm feeling a bit melancholy tonight. Someone throw out some fart-jokes to lighten the mood.
@Deartháir and his eight little drained beers: We start out life springy, resilient and full of hope. Eventually, and it happens sooner or later no matter how we try to avoid it, events and happenstance wring us out like a sponge. Over and over, we bounce back. We absorb the pains, the indignities, the sorrows. If we are lucky we find some way to rinse it out; to come clean again. And with hope we spring back in shape, the way we were, with perhaps a few more nicks and scars, that only serve to remind us of that old pain and that old suffering. Fingering those scars, we toss off a word or two to a friend. Perhaps falling upon the right ears, the wisdom translocates. Even those cast off as useless have their use, and when listened to, can give voice to breathless profundities. Indeed, those drops shed, as we all are wrung out at the last, in the most dire of straits, often times are the most precious.
12/19/08
It'll be sadly missed (again).
12/19/08
Need blankey!!
---
But seriously, this cheeses me off. I got the Breaking News alert from Jalopnik, then later got an email from one of the lead SCCA volunteers that the race was off.
Last year I missed the chance to flag the races because of a death in the family. The year before I decided to spectate only, because I was a flagger newbie.
Upset doesn't begin to describe my feelings at the moment.
12/19/08
Please bring LeMons to Belle Isle. That new paddock has to be good for something other than blighting green space! Proceeds could go to buying bulldozers and dump trucks for the city of Detroit.
12/19/08
12/19/08
Actually, a Belle Isle LeMons race is a great idea, especially since there is no room to pass. man. that'd make things interesting.
Plus, I could climb the Chrysler building to catch all the action.
12/18/08
12/19/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
(And my jealousy of guys like you who were alive at that time is boundless.)
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
And as to why? Why not have a race in a car crazy city on a beautiful island in the middle of a river?
12/18/08
However, as you said, the scenery and atmosphere is great.
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/18/08
There was a semi-homeless man who used to hang around my old place of employment. Every so often I'd see him when I'd duck outside for a smoke. I'd give him one and we'd chat for a bit. The man was absolutely brilliant. Sharp as a whip, knew more about the goings-on of the world than most other people I knew. He had been middle-management for a resource engineering firm, making extremely good money. Then the stress got to him, and his drinking got worse and worse. He lost his family, his car, his house, his job. He told me once that he had, at that point, been clean and sober for two years, but it was far too late. Nobody would hire him, he was in his early 70s, in poor health from living on the street, and he knew he was one drink away from being an alcoholic again.
They found him, dead in a doorway, back in June, a few days before I moved away from town. His liver finally failed on him, and he didn't make it to the hospital. Knowing him, he never even tried. I'm pretty sure he would have thought, "Why waste money keeping me alive, when there are so many kids who need the doctor's attention, with their whole lives ahead of them?" That's kind of how he was.
I'll admit I shed a tear or two when I heard that news, and that photo made me a little nostalgic. Here's to ya, Robert Grain.
Sorry all, I'm feeling a bit melancholy tonight. Someone throw out some fart-jokes to lighten the mood.
12/18/08
12/18/08
12/19/08
12/19/08
If it's yours (since I don't recognize it), it's beautiful.
Cheers, mate, those thoughts are much appreciated tonight.
12/19/08