The last time mum and dad visited us in Connecticut, we had a trip down to the indoor kart track in Wallingford. It’s a nice facility and we shelled out the cash, sat through the inane driver instruction video and got started.
Tight track, winding through tires piled five high. The first race dad just edged me out by a tenth of a second. Fair enough and only to be expected, he’s the one thats actually done motorsport from well before I was a baby, so he’s Ayrton Senna as far as I’m concerned.
The second race he got quicker taking another two-tenths off his lap time. But I was faster still and just nipped him for the win by a tenth of a second. I do remember he had a visible reaction to the lap times like he’d been given a nasty set of labwork results. When you do International Masters karting and your kid that doesn’t even have a kart beats you, it’s unpleasant.
I don’t really remember what I said to him then, but I do remember I was rude.