Okay I’ve got a confession to make. No, not that kind of confession. Sheesh, what kind of person do you think I am?!? Okay what is this big shocking confession I have? I don’t drive. Yep that’s it. I’m 33 years old, and I’ve never actually driven. I’ve had my driver’s permit when I was a teen, but there was no time usually to teach me driving. So here I am I live with my Dad, and anywhere that needs drivin’ he does it. Okay so now we’ve got that out of the way, let’s just say I like racing games. I’m not usually very good at them, but I enjoy them. Okay so with that in mind let’s sit back and imagine what it’s like to be behind the wheel of one of these formula 1 jobs, or whatever. I’m strapped into this tiny cockpit. If I was claustrophobic I would probably be panic right now, but I’m cool. Cool in the sense of being okay, but definitely not cool in the sense of body temperature. In fact I’m burning up. The fact that it’s an open cockpit gives me no relief as i’m snug in my flame retardant jumpsuit, all wrapped up like a present on Christmas. Pretty wrapping too as I’m wearing all kinds of patches from various sponsors. My helmet makes it certain that I can only see what’s directly in front of me, like blinders on a wary horse. The gloves fitting on my hands like a second skin. I grip the steering wheel, just waiting to be let go. The car is humming underneath me. Suddenly the lights go out, or turn green, or a checkered flag is dropped, pick your poison, all that matters is that it’s go time. Suddenly I fly out and I can feel the road vibrate underneath me as I’m reaching unheard of speeds.