Greetings, Earthlings! My name is Fzzlkby, and I am a professional motorsports God on my home planet. During a national championship, I drove way too fast and consequently tore the very fabric of our universe, hurtling through a wormhole at an impressive rate of speed and ended up crashing my monstrously powerful car into one of your “Wal-Marts.” After plowing through hordes of very ugly old people and through the rear wall of this center of commerce, I found myself in the middle of what appeared to be a graveyard for your primitive vehicles, although they still appeared to be in use. I continued to drive through these shameful mechanical carapaces before my erections subsided and decided I should probably use my heretofore untouched brakes.
Now, having spent some time on this quaint little planet, I feel as though I must inform you of what you lot have and mostly do not have with regards to this fascination you possess with “cars.” First, I pity you all, for your underpowered engines and heavy curb weights. To convert the power generated by my almost mythologically charged engine in your meek “horsepower,” I would have to append the prefix Giga to it. Oh, you say, awed but misunderstanding the fantastic power of my machine, how can you get all that to the ground? “To the ground?” I respond, chortling. “To the ground?” No, my throbbing, humming automotive marvel literally rips THROUGH the ground, destroying both track and competitors in the process of rocketing forward to victory and the adulation of the entire citizenry of my much larger, better planet.
Now, one thing you have going for you is this method of racing called “rally racing.” I see the redneck gleam of unrecognition in your eye, and I know that this is probably a good thing because you would sully the automotive racing spirit with your drunken antics. No, citizens of this infant civilization, rally racing brings to my multitudinal eyes the recognition of the true sportsman’s spirit that I, in my status as racing Godhead, long since ceased to feel. Yes, for little renown and much danger to themselves, your human racers push forward focusing on skill as much as speed and the excitement of doing something just so in that reach for the quintessence of the race. And, while yes, while my titanic skill dwarfs those of your petty heroes, I feel a kinship towards those that fight the racing fight.
So, you, who read this on your machines that laughably are not implanted into your heads at birth, go forth and proselytize for this sport! And revel and enjoy this sport as seems so necessary, for until your primitive racing gets closer to that of my home planet, this is the best you will do. And beware, humans who live between Chicago and San Francisco: Please get out of the way, because I need to get my machine up to speed in order to get back home to my larger, better planet.
About the Author: Dan Summers is a Mechanical Engineering student at RIT. He doesn’t take any drugs…as far as I know. He has guest posted here before with the Layman’s Guide to Rally Racing and he will probably continue with the guest posts in the future.
November 24th, 2008 |
