On Saturday July 7th, 2012, I spent most of my day at Summit Point, WV watching my brother, John, and his best friend, Paul, better known as Skooly (because he went to college), ride their tricked-out sport bikes around a motorcycle track. If I loved these guys as much as I should, I would not bitch about attending their Track Days. I would be excited, even fascinated, for them. Needless to say, that's not the case, and it's pretty well-known that I'd rather stay home and watch my hair grow. The only thing that gets me to Track Days is the company. And my company on July 7th consisted of some pretty kick-ass people: John; my practically sister-in-law, Jessie; Skooly; Skooly's awesome girlfriend, Casey; and my Dad.
My dad and I had to leave WV at lunch time because I had to get back to Harrisonburg to waitress. I wasn't very excited about that, but there was a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. John, Jessie, Skooly, and Casey would be dining at Vito's in my section later that night, and I would get to drive my Dad's convertible 100 mph at some point on the way home.
When I first sat behind the wheel of his car, I got butterflies in my stomach. And when I spun the tires out making a left on a back-country West Virginia road, I got bigger butterflies. Not only would I be driving a car really fast, but it would go really fast really friggin' quickly. Luckily, I had a wing-man: my Dad, and he watched for the cops. Also, Skooly let me borrow his radar detector. Yay Skooly.
Before we left the race track, Skooly suggested we take it.
My dad said, "Dude, radar detectors are illegal in Virginia."
Without missing a beat, Skooly replied, "So is driving a car at 100 mph, you gonna argue with my logic?"
It was funny...but maybe less funny to someone who wasn't there.
Anyways, my dad and I were past Winchester, VA when he felt he had picked out a "decent enough" spot. With the radar detector on his lap and his Droid MPH app on the ready, Dad told me to gun it, and I gunned it. Pedal to the floor...and that's not a cliche. I actually put the pedal to the floor. My stomach was tied in happy knots. Think butterflies on steroids times 100, 100 mph even.
I had no idea where I was when it happened. I didn't think to look at a road sign or a mile marker.
I just kept asking Dad, "Did I do it? Did I do it? Did I do it? Did I go 100mph?"
He never answered my question, he just showed me the picture below.
Item Number 4 = complete.
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