Sunday, May 17, 2009

Chapter 9 - Sermon on the Mount

He bought 'the other drift car' this time. The slow one. He bought it ‘pre-built’, from a young man much like his former self. There was a sense of satisfaction in delivering the lesson to another, a lesson that had been so hard-learned for him. He raised the car. 15 inch tires. This was drifting. He once was blind, but now he saw. Free of the crunching fiberglass, boost leaks and grimaces, the path before him was clear.

What had blinded him in his youth? 215 felt the same on an 8 as it did on a 9. Roll center was not made up by engineer nerds to salt his game. Body parts coming off on track was not, in fact, ‘sick’. And 'fender braces' never did anything. Internet trends came and went in his absence. 'Drift blogs' edged out of his 2 week history. He felt eyes pass over his tin can in the paddock, and he didn’t mind.

Flickr and Facebook long since updated, he no longer knew everything about everybody’s cars, or referred to internet drifters he’d never met as if he knew them personally. Everything was so much easier, so much simpler without the internet rat race – a race that he could never win. Was there even a finish line? What was he chasing in the first place?

Looking back he no longer saw the intrigue in being on top of the forum trends. Hiding his peasantry behind fiberglass and single-stage paint. Worrying more about how his car looked in pictures than how it felt to drive. You can’t see your fitment while you’re driving. You can’t see your ‘aero’ either, until it falls off – somehow he was convinced that this was cool.

His insecurities let drifting take over his life. He let others dictate how he spent his time and money. People just like him, just as insecure, converging on the internet searching for acceptance around a token motorsport. ‘Drifting’ was always secondary to the ‘judgment ritual’. If ‘the forum’ said jump, he said “how high?” This was the mindset of the ‘drifter’. Forever chasing someone else’s ideal, someone else’s dream, always a moment late to the trend, and never fully satisfied. A trained parrot could 'build' a 'drift car'! Actually drifting was a last resort when your build thread didn’t make the cut, or to keep the jealous vultures off your back. Those who won’t admit this, who claim to be ‘passionate about the sport’, need to take a long look at their PayPal statement and be honest about where their real motives lie.
Our drifter now knew this.

FIN

21 comments:

  1. not bad





    ...lol
    This is pretty good, nicely done.

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  2. great read, I really enjoyed it.

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  3. Ah..the story of The Unicorn and it's master.

    Well done sir!

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  4. And so the story comes to a close.

    I must say I have no idea how I came upon this but, it truly was an interesting read. I think you did a great job depicting what and who the "internet drifter" is. They really are out there! It's amazing how much influence the internet can have on people.

    Excellent writing by the way. I "got it".

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  5. Interesting read.
    I liked it. Nice job.

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  6. What's next? Live-feed suicide attempt?


    Lol jk Interesting story, keep 'em coming.

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  7. Wow...
    This is great.

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  8. Likin this story alot. The third chapter speaks so clearly. A good short story.

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  9. My bad. Not chapter 9....third paragraph.

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  10. Sooooo, I'd never actually read this whole thing until now, just a couple chapters. Awful, right? Depressingly, I get it, as I still had the last little bits of "it" on my Visa statement until like 2 years ago. Sequel - A bloggers tale?

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  11. Enjoyable read mate B)
    Thanks :)

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  12. You just summed up everything i hate about the drift scene. Thanks

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  13. This shit was D-O-P-E you should sell it to a producer and make this shit into a movie and show people how the drifters life really is like...not like the whole "I've got all this $$$ to spend on anything i want in my ride" Tokyo Drift crap :D...just a suggestion

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  14. this was cool it really captures the phenominon(sp) of the hobby+internet experience. It's so easy to get caught up in the accumulation of praise through accumulation of (mostly needless) hobby-related stuff. the despair of realizing your car doesn't run on props, and your hobby has turned into trying to please people who care nothing about you. well written sir.

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  15. thanks a lot, i appreciate it
    i want to write more once i get settled into my new place

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