This morning during a free practice session, groups of press people were around to do research on their respective articles regarding the new Shanghai International Circuit. Dr. Marko, “The BOSS”, set me up for an introduction. During my brief chat with them, a writer going by the name Sylvia uttered, “it must be a thrill to be living your life.” Not knowing how to react to such a comment, I simply smiled. Eager to get a response out of me, she tried to be head on and asked, “How does it feel to live a life of racing?” Uncertain whether she wanted me to elaborate on the different highs and lows of my profession, I merely replied, “it’s quite a rush.” And smiled once again. The topic was left and we went on discussing the technicalities regarding the new track…
Now, alone in my room after a series of exhausting engine and handling tests, that particular question seems to linger in my thoughts…
How can one forget his first brush with what was yet to come. I was 13 when a family friend brought me to see an F3 race in Macau, while I was in Hong Kong for the summer. Men and women walking around in color-coded uniforms, the smell of rich gasoline filling the air, as some helmet-covered characters were starting to get into those peculiar looking cars. I perceived them to be modern-day gladiators. Onward to battle with stripes bearing different colors, competing for supremacy and in a way… dear life.
At that very moment, I too, had the same question in mind. I watched as they thunder past the stands, hurdling around the turns with vast accuracy, pleasing the crowd with every brake and take strategy. That jaw-dropping experience led me to asked myself, “How would it feel like to be a race car driver?” 9 years after that experience, I find myself wearing my own Nomex suit, getting into my own peculiar machine. I tell myself, “This is my time.” The journey has been far from easy and it’s not even over yet. However maybe at this point I could be in a position to answer that 9-year-old question. So how does it feel to be in a life of racing? Most people look upon us to be spoiled brats with nothing better to do. Some offer an opinion of drivers to be psychotic fools with phone number salaries. Yet a few think of us as boys trying to grab a certain amount of fame. It’s not the limelight. If it were, I would have tried to get into show business. It’s not the macho image factor. If it were I would have tried to become a basketball or soccer player instead. And it’s not the money either. For if it was, I thing drug dealing would have been a better option. So what is it? In my case, it was testing the limits of mortality. It was finding out how far man and machine could go together. Twice, death has smile at me but that did not seem to satisfy my curiosity. To fear death is to invite it. To embrace death is where one would feel most alive. And of course, there’s the rush of controlling the uncontrollable. As I sit inside the cockpit of the fastest machines man has ever wrought, I catch myself thinking… So much power underneath this chassis and it’s all in my hands. To experience it, any fool could do. But to control it and will it to do precisely what you desire it to, only a few could achieve. And that’s exactly what I’ve been meaning to accomplish. All this is a mere realization of what was once a passion inside of me. Not all have that same passion yet it does not make others any less than what I am. We all have our dreams and I believe fulfilling it is our main objective in life. A businessman, an architect, or a marine biologist may feel the same amount of enthusiasm in what they do as I do with racing. That was their dream and this was mine. What I’m trying to say is that we’re all just doing what we’ve always wanted to do. I don’t feel there is a significant difference between your lives and mine. The answer to the question of how it feels to live a life of racing is that… it is no different to yours. Racing is not life in itself but a mere occupation. For racing is not my life. It is only my way of earning a living. It’s just my job.
If racing does enable one to be larger than life then I don’t believe it has done the same for me. True, this profession has allowed me to befriend weather, to embrace all forms of danger and defy the natural laws of physics. Yet it could not spare me from the one thing that builds around all of life. As I sit here in complete battle gear, 5 seconds to full throttle, my mind does not speak of the track to conquer. It speaks of a certain girl a thousand miles away back home; and my heart follows to affirm that I miss her. Racing has played its part to be a place of refuge for me in the past. It has offered to be the one true place where my mind and heart are both at ease. For an hour or so, I feel no burden from what we call reality. No problems… no pain. All my thoughts focused on each millisecond that could result into either victory or tragedy. Now, racing does not seem to do that for me anymore. For my body knows its purpose for being here but my mind has its reason to be elsewhere. “Fight for position” says my race manager through the radio. Funny, cuz even with her, that seems to be the story of it all. There goes my mind again, wishing I was somewhere else. Astonishing how I would exchange the cheers of hundreds gathered around, for one smile, just one wave from her in such a moment. But I wouldn’t want her on the stands… No, I wouldn’t want her to be a fan. I’d want her to be nowhere else but beside me. Not as much as I speed through this track but more as I walk through this journey we call life. In a sentimental way I say to myself, “ I am human”. She resists believing in me, and I’ve been struggling to convince her… but hey she’s just human too. She claims that in 5 years time, she could only mean as much as a bump in the road for me. And I am not one that can tell what the future holds but to that remark, I beg to disagree. If there is one thought that provides an amount of certainty, it is that… Here I am in the midst of the sport I have loved for almost half my life… but back there in Manila is the person I will love for the rest of it.
He had no idea how some words written...and some things said could cause him so much pain. But he can't show how he feels... he can't show the pain he endures. He cries deep within but outside....he hides it within a smile. He dreams of becoming a knight, yet as he takes a good look at himself... seems like all he is right now... is a clown. El Payaso. One big reddish smile, that is all people see...what you don't see... is the man...rather the boy filled with tears. Maybe it's true. Maybe i'm just not worth much. (ouch) my dad would always say "that's life".... Oh well if this is life... the next time i reach 240 kph i better start looking for a nice hard-ass wall. 
but hold on...not yet. I can't let go. maybe there's hope after all. I mean i have found a princess. all i have to do is to stop clowning around and be a knight myself...so i could deserve her...so i could take care of her...after that maybe i would have the right to call her MY princess.
Plans just kept on changing! Maybe I was wrong but with all the strings I had to pull just to have us on our way, I thought the least people could have done was to go by the plans I had in mind naman about bringing them home and all. Oh well… they dropped by my house naman that night and I’m kinda glad we got to talk about things and patch it up. An after thought: behind all the drama and heat that transpired, I did get to spend some time with a certain person and that totally made up for everything else. 
