Racing in my Genes

I took three year old Becca to the zoo yesterday and as we were driving down I-20 she expressed this observation:  "Pookie, your jeep goes FAST!" I smiled because really it doesn't. It's a 2-door soft-top Jeep Wrangler that shakes, rattles and pops and has little to no credible acceleration.  But OK, a three year old is impressed. I straightened my back a little, held my head up proudly.

Fifteen minutes later, Becca excitedly, confidently inquires, "Did we win yet, Pookie?!"

I smiled again because that's my girl! That's right, baby, we're in a tough vehicle, riding rough, going fast and we will win, suckers.

I don't really think I'm competitive, am I? I'm pretty cautious, kind of mellow.

Except for that time with the Busbees..... OK, so I was pretty riled up there.

And of course I get obsessed with the Dakar Rally every year.

And well, I worked for a place called The Race Shop.

Errr, I write an awful lot about Enduros.

Argh, I even love glider racing.

So maybe I do like racing.

But I'm not competitive.

Really.