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Now, don't take this as a total dagger in the ribs. I like
dragstrips and National Trail Raceway is way more a dragstrip
than a Raceway Park-type joint. It's just that I like performance
as part of the accountrement at any dragstrip, and Columbus
just flat didn't deliver. Until just recently.
Roll back the tape. An unshaven Martin, still in the dire
recovery mode from a losing bout the night previous with the
Steel Reserve Brewing Company in Fort Worth and the dance
floor at Pat1s Cocktails, starts fumbling through the L.A.
Times, muttering and stifling cuss words, at the Sunday morning
breakfast table.
"Oh death where is thy sting?"
Real Estate Section? Yeah sure, I have a few million stuffed
in the couch, I1ll call you right up. Colombian Adventures?
Yeah, I could stand to lose a hundred pounds in the next seven
days.
"Purse-swinging brawl results in 12 deaths at local
Macy's perfume counter." Where was I? Squirting taco
sauce on my dress whites.
Ah, sports section, Serena Williams. Yes, how has she not
broken her jaw accidentally in one of those wild rallys?
Okay, water polo, high-school
LaCrosse, contact checkers -- ah, here it is. NHRA Make Believe
Ballroom Springnationals or whatever they call the thing at
Columbus. Tell me, tell me, who won Top Fuel? Oh, here's a
shocker. Tony Schumacher at what? Close my eyes and I'll guess
-- .4.59, 318.69. Oops a little off. It was Tony Schumacher
at 336.15 MILES AN HOUR -- BACKED UP WITH AN EARLIER 334.
It can't be. This is not possible. The only thing that might
go 336 mph in Columbus is a surface-to-air missile or a $33,000
Bosendorfer Grand Piano falling out of the luggage hold of
a cargo liner. Those yes, but a fuel dragster? It can't be.
But it is. New NHRA records page says so. Alan Johnson IS
god. Schumacher will destroy anything in his path. Maybe all
you need is an Army of 1. . .or 2. . .or at the most 3. What
was the magic in that old silk hat they found?
Lately, for me, NHRA POWERade drag racing has been a bit
of an oppressive bore. Most of the races with only a few exceptions
are events I would've passed on. And really, up 'til Sunday,
the same applies here.
And then, the most amazing run of the year transpires. Crummy
old National Trail hacks up a 336-mph national record.
To quote Buffy Sainte Marie and risking the accusation of
my own personal beliefs, "God is alive, magic is afoot."
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