June 13, 2012
F1 dreams and the continuing saga of life its own self.
By Dr. Bud E. Bryan
Austin. Well, it really is happening. I had an unauthorized tour of the new "Circuit of the Americas" track and I gotta say it is going to be frickin' spectacular. Yeah, I know, I was originally Dr. Skeptical, but forgetting all of the heated financial battles between The People With Too Much Money and The People Who Actually Give A Shit About The Racing, the fact that there's a brand-new natural-terrain road racing circuit of this magnitude coming together in the U.S. - and not far from our doorstep, I might add - is pretty damn incredible. And it looks like it's going to be faster than fast too. Blistering fast, even, as Peter would say. It's difficult sometimes to contemplate that it's really happening, but when you see it with your own eyes you get over that notion right quick. All I can say is that I am very impressed and I can't wait for it to officially open. We're talkin' some serious racin' shit here.
In other developments, I brainstormed an idea to Peter via email that we grab a ZL1 Camaro and the new Shelby GT500 Mustang and hammer 'em from Austin to Las Vegas. And he's all-in except for the fact that he says the likelihood of us getting the cars for that purpose would be slim and "are you frickin' kidding me?" from at least one of the companies. The GM boys alternately loathe and despise Peter (I know, who knew, right?), so, oh well. I plan on getting my hands on that Mustang one way or another so at least I can write about that monster.
It's a noble undertaking, too, because I figure these cars and others like them are not going to be around forever and the cost of owning such machines is going to go up exponentially and be almost too scary to contemplate. I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, but these are the good ol' days when it comes to high performance. Yes, the "new" definition of performance will be huggable and touchy-feely and all but who's kidding who here, folks? Electric cars make no noise, so I frankly don't give a shit how fast they go. And hybrid supercars? The new going rate seems to be $800,000+ if you're Porsche and Ferrari. That's insane. So appreciate what we have right this minute in the ZL1, the GT500 and Boss 302, and the hot Corvettes, because in terms of performance, they're as fast if not faster than 98 percent of the machines we considered supercars not long ago. And if you squint hard enough you can even afford one of 'em too.
(Oh, and before I get a ton of hate mail from the touchy-feely contingent for not embracing the idea of efficient performance, the new Subaru BRZ and Toyota Scion FR-S sports cars are nice little cars and everything, but after driving the Toyota all I kept thinking is that if you're going to go this route I'd get a clean used Honda S2000 all day long and be a lot happier. Somebody's gotta say it.)
The rest of life is going along down here while lurching between euphoria and imminent disaster, none of which I can talk about per my agreement with Peter. The point being that if I'm going to write about it it should be saved for The Book. Yeah, I know, who gives a shit, right? But Peter and WordGirl have had the manuscript for weeks now (admittedly I owe them three damn chapters) but I think that's meaningful progress, don't you?
I will say this: the Full-Tilt Nadine and the Irresistible Jolene are present and accounted for, and then some. Nadine has been occupied with some health issues with her mom that thankfully have resolved themselves positively, but she's fiery and cantankerous as ever, in a really good way. And Jolene? Well, what can I say? We've reached a level of communication that I figured was impossible to achieve given everything that has transpired, and it has never been better between us. And she has never looked better. And the lovely Janey is just relentless in that she just won't take "no" for an answer and I admit I like it, a lot. And Jesse has blossomed into an excellent writer, among, uh, other things. And Carrie Anne? She's busy bein' a smokin' hot mom and driving me absolutely c-r-a-z-y, but beyond that I must remain speechless is all I'm sayin'.
I would like to tell you that everything is smooth with my interactions and such with my "friends" but hell, you know that isn't even a little bit true. Play with high-strung fillys long enough and you're bound to get kicked in the teeth. And though I've managed to survive certain calamity more than I care to think about, one can duck only so much before the inevitable Bad Thing happens. Oh well, at least I haven't been shot at again. Yet.
Trying to catch-up after not reporting in for so long really kinda sucks, but, what can I say?
One crucial - and somber - development down here that I must mention because of its seismic significance is that the bar at the Four Seasons hotel - long my favorite watering hole as most readers can testify - no longer has a premium margarita on their bar menu. I know. WTF, right? It's as if an asteroid hit the place as far as I'm concerned and, you guessed it, I'll never go back. And the action is no longer there, either. Coincidence? I think not. The new hot spot? The bar in the W hotel.
That's all I have on this 13th day of June, except I neglected to mention the 13th Anniversary of Autoextremist.com. I won't go on and on about it but it's tremendously satisfying to know that Peter is still hammering away, still being laser-accurate in his assessments, and still pissing off legions of people who should know better but don't while doing something that no one else can do in my estimation.
And that's a Very Good Thing.
Adios until the next time.