Zoom-zoom

*God*, that was fun.

Needed to get out of the house and away from my computer and the day-in, day-out monotony of thesis writing. So took my car out, just now, and slung it around all the little back-roads of my neighbourhood for a bit. Nothing rash, nothing stupid --- I stayed below the posted speed limits + 15 mph (except for one wide-open straightaway that parallels the Metro tracks and doesn't have any parked cars or children running around), came to a complete stop at *all* the stop signs, yielded to other drivers when the road became too narrow for two cars to pass, used my turn signals each time, both hands on the wheel, except for the gear changes... But it was still just such sheer bliss, slaloming in smooth sinusoids around all the parked cars, hitting the apexes in the turns, ascending --- and descending --- through the shift-points at just the right rpms, the gears snicking precisely into place each time (well, most of the time. I was driving in flip-flops --- chappals --- so there was sometimes a little bit of play between my feet and the pedals.)... Ahh, rev-matching, double-clutching, seat-of-your-pants, mind-in-the-moment Fahrvergnügen.

Made even better by the fact that there was a light drizzle falling, and the roads were slick with carpets of wet, fallen leaves. So you had to be extra careful to not tease the tires too close to their traction limits. Red, orange, yellow and black on the ground; red, orange, yellow and green up above. Wipers on Intermittent. The sound of the engine swelling and cutting, swelling and cutting, swelllllllling and cutting... and sometimes, swollen, but not achieving release in the next upshift, growling back down for a smoothly executed, jerk-free engine-braking manoeuvre. A graceful symphony of perfectly modulated throttle and clutch, the flowing dance of tire and road, pistons and neurons. Fifteen minutes of suburban autocross heaven.