Mood: great...
Listening to: the rusted weels in my brain starting to worck again
hello.. well im here to welcome you to my own place at http://www.geocities.com/dragon_temptation/
its still under contruction but i wasent able to make my blog look and worck like i wanted it to be... some im moving to my own web place.. so feel free to come on over.. well that it for now .. i got the "I need to worke on my website" bug lol
Mood: great
ok here some random thought on racing.. pixie selected the topic hehehe.....
so my opinion on racing .. well most people race for the feeling of it .. like living on the edge, racing also give a feel of control and how to control it... bringing your car or whatever your racing to the limit of performance and always pushing the evelope to the next level.. for a exemple a new driver would not be capable of manuvering in a close corner race(multitud of conecting corner like f1 racing) but could be great whit little practice in a drag race... now a great part of a great race driver is how much he or she (there is some great femal racer's out there like Tanya Wayne, winer 4 year in a row of the pike peak up hill rally in the front weel drive open class, one of the most chalenging and dangerous race) well they all have a great understanding of how their machine worcke and were they can push it to...
lol now i know there not one person that can understand my thought on racing but hey, here a bit moor on the pike peak rally race
lenght - 12.42 miles
turns -156
elevation 14110 feet.... (there is 58% less oxigen in the air at the fiish line then the start... and evryone knows a car nee oxigen to worck... )
The Pikes Peak International Hill Climb is the 5 a.m. echoes of race engines from distant mountain cliffs. It is the sweet forest aroma at the starting line; it is the intense colors of bright racing machines dancing through a soft backcountry pallet.
It is Pikes Peak, the 14,110-foot matron of the Rocky Mountains, a massive peak that rises abruptly from the Colorado plains. Visible from hundreds of miles away, it has attracted and inspired people for thousands of years. The peak is called America's Mountain and the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb is a part of its history and future.
&&It is the rumble of Stock Cars, the screaming engines of Unlimiteds, and Open Wheel cars. It is the 90 mph earth-shaking power of Class 8 diesel trucks. It is the mad start of the motorcycle race, when five riders at a time charge up the road like a mechanical posse in hot pursuit. It is the race drivers who have challenged the mountain since 1916, when a young man named Rea Lentz won the first race with a time of 20 minutes, 55.6 seconds. It is the crafty driving of New Zealander Rod Millen, who has sliced that time in half and today owns the races overall record of 10:04.06. It is more than race founder Spencer Penrose could have imagined. He built the Pikes Peak Highway and created the first race as a way to promote its magical pathway to the clouds. He had no plans for the event to become one of the worlds classic races.
It is about people, some 160 drivers and riders, men and women, some who run to win, but most who seek personal challenge on a white-knuckle racecourse. It is some 500 volunteers, regular working people, whose time and energy fuel the event.
lol... well that it for now .. halloween is caling me and i need a drick.. ;) YaY!!! to me .. ;)
lokee :
My blade is colored with his blood
My boots are caked with reddened mud
A clumsy jab, a muffled moan
And this mans blood melds with my own
With horrible pain comes my breath
And soon, I fear, I'll meet my death
Fiery sparks from blood stained swords
Shine light unto the darkened gore
A flash of light, a busted face
A sudden, shock, a cold embrace
Then with terror, I realize
Something familiar in his eyes
And suddenly I finally see
The enemy I fight is me
Sex Without Love :
How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.
