It only takes one minor slip to end it all, after which silence caresses and thoughtful mourning begins. Again and again and again.
One of the common tropes that always crops up when those in racing are killed or suffer injury is the same old mantra of “motor racing is dangerous, it says so on the ticket”.
But it is such bullshit.
It is a get out clause for those willing to shrug their shoulders, but unwilling to do anything about motor sport’s grand frailties. And then what..? The incidents happen again, the handwringing is pronounced and the defensive armies of old emerge, speak their piece and the cycle continues.
“Motor racing is dangerous,” they say again, as if pointed it out a second time makes it more valid. “It says so on the ticket.” As if that means a damn thing. Tell me this: how much was your ticket?
So let’s do nothing and nothing again. “What would Sterling Moss or John Surtees say,” they clamber, ignoring the irony of how Moss was almost killed at a then outdated Goodwood in 1962 and how Surtees’ son Henry was killed by stray wheel at Brands Hatch in 2009.
Should we be surprised though? Days like these, history weeps more than people do.
And then thoughts move to memories of ‘the good old days’, tethered by nostalgia and peppered with just enough gaps to make them seem kindly and plausible.
“He died doing what he loved,” they add sombrely, before taking a sip to soften the blunt force blow. Excuse me while I remove myself from such a pithy river of drivel.
Perhaps while you’re at it, the platitudes can be relayed to loved ones. I’m sure they will appreciate it.
But like before, it only takes one minor slip to end it all, after which silence caresses and thoughtful mourning begins. Again and again and again.
Dean Berta Vinales was 15 years old. Read that again. Say that out loud – to yourself and to others – and then read it again and tell me that it is worth it and I will tell you of a lie painted in gold.
