Some people drive with their eyes. Some with their minds. And some, use their ass.
The road makes contact with the rubber. The rubber with the rim. The rim with suspension. The suspension and chassis. The chassis and the seat. The seat and the ass.
It’s how a man speaks to machines. To know what it’s doing, to feel it. To tame it. To give it what it wants. A two-way communication. It talks and you reply. You reply with steering input. With throttle correction. With rev-matching. With clutch kicks. Heel and toe, hands at 3 o’clock and 9. Correct before is even happened. Park the car on the apex, steer with the throttle. Slow hands in the fast stuff, fast hands in the slow.
A ballet, of a million corrections. Smooth on the surface, turbulent beneath.
Poetry in Motion. Motion is Tranquility.
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