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There's a certain ineffable consciousness shift that comes through my mind when I release the clutch at the two step RPM and the drag slicks hook their hot rubber into the pre-melted coating on the track.
The surge forward, with that squatting of the chassis braced rear end, fires the mind illuminated by the bright yellow of the shift light as I slam into second, gas pedal glued to floor.
The scream of the twin screw KB and the growl of the cammed and ported engine burning 100 octane juice focusses my being deep into my spine as I instinctively shift into third then fourth when that yellow light again prompts my coordinated movements.
Passing the traps, I feel mundane reality slowly seeping back into my life. Yeah, 'dat am da' bomb, oh my brothers and sisters.
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