my parents returned from their uk travels last night, heavy luggage, big smiles and presents in tow. some beautiful fabrics (liberty fabrics! so soft! ...and pricey), handbag accessories (bamboo handles!) and mags (wallpaper, ideas) were among the loot I was delivered, but the best present was listening to them talk about their travels to places I've never been, and best of all, my dad talking about silverstone. As a surprise anniversary gift, my mum treated dad to some time on silverstone's F1 Grand Prix south track, driving a Ferarri 355 and a Lotus Elise.
Growing up, my dad raced stock cars - it used to be the standard weekend trip....up to the track at Shubie, standing around watching the go-cart racers, and then the stock car racers from the tower high atop the hill at the start of the track, existing off picnic lunches, hot dogs, and trying to count the cars as they went around and around and around. As far back as I can remember, racing has been a part of my life. I remember being really young and trying on dad's helmet, running around the house in it, completely unable to see, but envisioning myself as a famous car driver. If I had put my mind to it (and been way more interested in cars) maybe I could have. Though I have to admit, high speeds freak me out a little - at least as a passenger.
I wonder what the average "report card" from this track says?