One year ago Karl tells me he wants to get the girls into go karting. As their “sport.”
“Aw yeah.” I say “not exactly the definition of sport that I had in mind.” You know. One which involves fostering a sense of team dynamics + working together physical conditioning prowess + skills.
Karl tells me I have obviously never done Go Karting because it requires ‘a lot’ of physical fitness, especially core strength + it’s VERY exhausting. Sounds like quite the endurance sport.
The Fun Police roll up to the party in my brain “And what about the danger!?” they screech. The girls are 4 and 6.
I try to convey. “Karl, they will be tearing around a track, with a bottle of petrol between their little legs + other racers deliberately trying to run them off the track. If they crash - who puts out the fire on my child.”
My mind dramatically flashes to the teenage years.
The girls weekends are spent mastering burn outs down Mitchell Street; investing their time in the pits, not the classroom, working on their career aspirations of becoming a Formula 1 driver. Importantly. I didn’t want to spend the next 10 years x weekends I have with them managing the logistics of getting the karts to the track, cleaning and fixing them, standing around in the dirt, inhaling petrol, drinking beer. Welll….
I realise I just described the perfect weekend for a lot of my friends a with some minor modifications, probably mine.
Karl concedes that they don’t “have to do go karting.” But I can see from the twitching on his face that this is not true. And as it turns out, he has shellled out the most exorbitant amount of money of these carts from Italy that I am intrigued to see them lap the track. Also I felt bad because it did actually sound quite fun for them.
So why cultivate the inner adrenaline junkie, danger seeking part of our children’s I also use this ‘concession’ as a compromise on motorbiking. I stand strong on that one. Elspeth can’t even ride a push bike without training wheels FFS.
Of course this story ended in them doing it, or else I would just be talking smack about some dumb conversation where I wrecked the dreams of Karl and our daughters.
I went down to the first meet to watch them compete. Within about 5 minutes of breathing that trackside petrol fuelled air, I felt so relaxed and high on life. At that exact moment I realised why motor sports is so addictive. The closer you can get to the exhaust, the better.
Admittedly, the girls look heart explodingly gorgeous kitted out in their fire retardant PPE with helmets that are one third the size of their body threatening to topple them over any second. Also, watching such miniature people somehow navigate a vehicle around those bends is actually kind of impressive. Especially considering I didn’t get my license until I was 22.
Their sporting pursuits come with a side of weekends spent on the track with cousins, aunties + uncles they idolise; all racing and showing them the ropes. They absolutely LOVE it. So. Despite everything I said above. Karl, Caleb, Russell, Helen + co. Thanks for bringing this wildness into their lives.
Here are some photos. All on the Leica M10. Looks like they are taken with the Voigtlander 40mm f/1.2 but its been so long I would not swear on my mothers life.
