No matter what you want to believe
we don’t all come just for the wrecks

(though some certainly do
they are in fact few)

We come for the pulse
of steel and rubber on asphalt

We come for the oil on the track
that can change the day from green to black

We come for the luck
that amplifies the science

We come for the threading of fluid holes
with one ton needles

We come for the physics
of spring load and banked tracks

We come for the unwasted motion
of tire carriers and catch can soldiers

We come for expletives and cryptic bursts
on the radio that sing focus over the scream

We come for the unbelievable noise
of precision in chaos

We come for the wrecks not for the wrecks themselves
but for the juggling magic of spotters — stay low, stay low, pull up, stay high, you’re good

We come for a faith in numerology
and for 48, 24, 18, 11, 29, 31, 43, and 3

We’re not all rednecks
and idiots

and if you brand us all as such
because of our enthusiasm

for machines and their extension
of effort into hard space and speeding light

for the play of numbers and sweat
that makes a race team a team

If you know me to be smart
and not easily impressed

If you listen to me rave about how this battle of engineers
holds me tight from February to November

and then say
I’m surprised you’d be involved in something so stupid

and
you’re not as smart as I thought

may I suggest or indeed affirm
that you are the bigot you claim to despise

If you don’t like it then simply don’t like it
and keep your opinions to yourself

Even though they say rubbin’ is racin’
just know I would never trade my paint for yours