2010 Toronto Honda Indy

Sitting in the long straightaway by pit lane, just before honest-to-God hard braking begins before the first turn, I look about me and am delighted by the energy at I am experiencing. The cars zip by me from right to left and slow down considerably at the Princes’ Gate. It is a warm July morning. The sky is infinitely blue, and I feel an occasional cooling breeze coming from Lake Ontario, just yards away.

This is the 2010 Toronto Honda Indy. I have often heard it said that this is a very demanding and unforgiving road course. This is indeed a “wild race,” as this year’s winner, Will Power, described the race. What I witness quickly confirms this. The first turn by the Princes’ Gate is a fine example of the difficult turns and narrowness of this course. Not only do the cars have to brake hard on approaching this right turn, but they often do so two at a time, given that they are coming off a sprint race in front of pit lane and the grandstand. In addition, the first turn is the very point in the course where cars are leaving pit lane. No doubt that drivers feed off of the emotion and excitement of the fans.

Automobile racing is an honest profession, or vocation, as the case may be. Drivers can attest to this. Every profession has those who have embraced it through the sheer force of vocation, and others who merely embrace it as a job. However, I understand that this comparison is only minimally true in car racing.

Again, racing is an honest endeavor. Young men have traditionally raced out of the sheer joy of concurring speed. In many instances, they have done so despite fear. Putting one’s life on the line is a rather honest thing to do. These people put their money where their mouth is. I can immediately think of many professions where people make a living by hiding behind a barrage of cowardly words. Not so in racing.

Race car drivers are admirable people, if only for this basic truth. I had a friend named Al. He was a good student and athletic. Al worked harder as a teenager than most adults in some professions. Al possessed a tremendous moral sense. Our group of friends admired Al. He dreamed of buying and racing a 1968 Camaro. After many difficulties, for Al was not born with a silver spoon, he did get his Camaro. We all celebrated his achievement.

I stand up to watch the cars go past me. To my right, I witness a young boy – eleven or twelve years old – cheering the drivers on. His face is lit with excitement and a specific joie de vivre that is infectious. If bottled, such honest excitement would definitely revolutionize adults and our often drab perspective on human existence. My son, too, is waving the racers on; my daughter covers her ears but smiles earnestly.

The atmosphere before the race was also buzzing with excitement. Racers, as is also true of athletes and soldiers, share an admirable camaraderie, a genuine colleagueship that is blatantly absent from other professions. This comes as the result of having too much at stake. I watch Franchitti and other drivers mixing it up. Castroneves seems to be having a good time. The amicable Tony Kanaan walks around and inspects his car.