The Power of Smell

On the way home today, I got hit with a familiar odor. One that brought back a flood of memories. Good memories. I blame the old beat up pickup truck, and the fact that I drive a MINI Cooper, but I swear it smelled like every go-kart I have ever driven. That smell, plus the fact that the MINI is just a go-kart on steroids, brought back these memories.

1. Florida – Down near Daytona to see the Daytona 500. Racing my sister. At the end of the race, I pull in and park the kart. What does my sister do? She panics and drives at top speed into the back of my parked kart. I can still hear my mother screaming “Break, Amanda, Break!”.Though, that may only be because she has told the story so often…

2. Pennsylvania – Out to go see the race in Pocono. Actually, that’s not right, I was there to work on a race team with my father. One night, the whole team goes out to a go-kart track and races each other. I remember racing professional drivers, crew members, and my father. Being battered around the track and still holding my own. I remember the crew chief telling me that he was trying to wreck me. Great times. We won’t mention that we got kicked out of a couple of track facilities that night.

3. Florida part II – On a band trip (yea, I know, Band Geek). Being on an oval go-kart track racing some of my friends. The cars were enclosed, had to get in through the roof (which collapsed on someone). Beating and banging on each other, pushing people out of the way, anything for that win.

4. Seaside – Racing my father on the Funtown Pier and almost killing him. I clearly remember seeing the underside of his kart as he almost flipped over.

Ah, that smell. The memories. The good times. The getting kicked out of the tracks for being too aggressive, and trying to alter the speed regulators to go faster.

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