Well, here it is. I sure look like an idiot in that helmet. But never mind, I'm not at a fashion show. But the motorcycle looks really strange in the car. Well, nothing, concentrate and don't think about nonsense. How many cars are in front of me? Four more? I have time. Blue cone on the left, white on the right. Oh god, I'm sure I'll screw it up and look like an idiot again. And also in that helmet. No, dammit, finally focus. I don't want to be the last. Although my car is not a miracle, it has a few modifications, I've had my driver's license for a few years now, so I'm not going to be overtaken by some breathless 14-year-old girl. Herdek, and it's here, in a moment the green will light up, once again: blue on the left, white on the right. Or was it the other way around? God, I'm sure I'll be last, but what, I don't have the Impreza anyway. There's no time for platitudes, it's my turn. The helmet is on, the radio is off, the engine and tires are warmed up. Gear up, three, two, one, START!
This is roughly how it swirled in my brain before the first amateur race. And I really wasn't the last. Fortunately, I would probably be embarrassed and it would discourage me from ever wanting to do it again. To describe my relationship with motorsport, the word "positive" would be a gross understatement. Even as a little boy, I used to go to rallies in the area with my dad and watch Formula on TV. Yes, it was at a time when the broadcast was more interesting and rewarding than the commercial breaks in it. Formula problems would be a separate article, so we'll save them for another time. In short, every boy has his dreams. Sorry, every girl sure does too. Well, I wanted to be like all those masters of the wheel. Schumacher, McRae, Häkkinen or Sainz. They looked down on me from the walls of my room instead of music performers or football players. The plan was to be like them, but I had to wait for the driver's license because my parents didn't understand any go-karts or buggies for child riders.
Unfortunately, puberty threw my priorities, so I was interested in the car's appearance and its social status. Well, bad luck. I gradually clawed my way back to driving skills. And then came a kind of home sprint at the old airport. Four guys in the same Felicias with a devastating volume of 1.3 liters. How pompous. By some miracle I won and discovered that the sprint is actually more about the car than the driver. Later, we arranged a similar slalom, and even with a stronger car I was, to put it mildly, knocked out. I resented the competition, I blamed myself for my incompetence. But secretly, alone, I competed with myself and subtly absorbed information, advice and tips from those around me. After all, I won't be humbled by slalom.
Thanks to that unbearable obsession with cars, I got to know several racers, including the winner of the Šumava Slalom Cup. And everyone was tempting me that I just had to try it. But I didn't want to at first. What if I was last again? After all, girls also race there. Of course, I know very well that women can be excellent drivers. I know the story of Eliška Junková, Michéla Mouton or Danica Patrick. But you never beat me! Yes, my male vanity is terrible, I know. I'm sometimes a disgusting chauvinist, I'll admit it without torture. Do you want the satisfaction of a dear representative of the fairer sex? Later in my first race I was beaten by all the girls in my category and my vanity was flushed where it belongs.
I just went to watch the first race of the season. And you know what, it was great and terrible at the same time. The only thing that was terrible was that I wasn't participating. But I took a look at how such a slalom goes. And drove home, changed the shock settings, tested the tires, bled the brakes again just to be sure, and took the car in for service because of the clutch, which I really didn't dare to. I also completed the second race only from a spectator position. But then the excuses for not participating ran out, and on the third I picked up my regular bib number, listened to the full safety training and lined up for the start of the first practice.
Of course, amateur slalom racing is not a formula or a rally. But everyone started somewhere. And they're not just for racers. A completely different thing started to interest me. The opportunity to test the behavior of the car, safely and at the same time fun. You will never be a good driver if you don't test the capabilities of yourself and your car. Do you really know where your tire grip limit is? Do you know exactly when your brakes start to fail? Well, you see, so it can't be bad to touch this. Because when you get into a crisis situation on the road, there won't be time to try anything. I considered my German trotter to be a very wide and clumsy car. But a mistake. I thought rubbers were unbreakable. Also a mistake, but I know they snap much later than you think and that I can count on them even if I don't. For a few hundred, I got the opportunity to test drive my car like never before. And also test yourself. Probably the best money invested in life. In addition, proper male heckling and healthy competition is not harmful at all. And imagine showing your colleagues at work in action snapshots from the plant, while they are embarrassed to take a photo of you sunbathing on a blanket in the gardening colony among the tomato beds just like the previous five years. Still nothing?
So I'm interested in what else discourages you. Car damage? There is practically no danger. Races are held on a closed track, mostly an older airport. Wide places not bordered by ditches and trees. The cars start at large intervals and the track is determined by cones. So you don't have to worry about the car. Big expenses? And for what? You can come there with your normal car, just stick the start number in the back window and hit the track. You don't need anything but a helmet. Either you have one, or you have a friend who has a motorcycle. You don't need to have tires or other special equipment. But it is possible that you will fall for it and gradually you will spend more on this hobby. This is normal, cyclists and amateurs also constantly invest in their hobbies. But it is not necessary, a friend won his class with a vehicle at the purchase price of three and a half thousand crowns. Of course, he enjoyed it, so he gradually invested some funds in his car, but it is less than the average monthly salary of a part-time student. There is only one option left, like me you are afraid of failure. But that doesn't matter. It's still like a trainer for your driving in a safe environment. It's not about the result in the first place, you'll only be attracted to that later.
So you finally understand me and agree with me? It's here, you see. Look yourself in the eye and say to yourself: “I enjoy driving and I want to be the best driver possible! That's why I won't miss this opportunity to try something new.” Done? So great, now open the search engine and find out the nearest amateur races. It doesn't even have to be a slalom, there are amateur sprints, drifts and rallies. And then persuade all your friends, who keep convincing you that they enjoy cars, to go and prove it to you. You can equally compete with them. It's just up to you. And if you ever visit the Pošumav slaloms and meet a red Golf, you can try to beat it, it won't be that difficult. And you can scold his driver at the top of his lungs for what kind of nonsense he is writing publicly like this and what he has led you into.
Photo: Martin Palonder
