
Your right foot twitches with anticipation — and maybe just a little bit of pre-race jitters — ready to push the pedal to the metal, sending your mechanical beast lurching ahead of your competition. A single drop of sweat drips between your creased brow and drops from the end of your clenched jaw, splattering onto the steering wheel where your hands are tightly clamped. You've learned the art of tunnel vision — blocking out the drivers to your left and right — seeing only the expanse of track before you. The starting flag hangs limply in the breezeless air. The roar of the excited, frenzied crowd is drowned out by the pounding of blood between your ears. You were born ready for this moment. The only option is first.