Go-carts and Emerald Isle
A friend of my uncle owns a go-cart track on Emerald Isle, about ten miles from where I've been staying, and I started working there a couple days a week to get myself out of the house every now and again and put a little income into my pocket. The job consists of talking to happy people on vacation and making sure they don't hurt themselves or others in the pursuit of high-speed fun. Plus, I pick my own hours and get paid in cash making it the most stress-free job I've ever had. Even more so than juggling in the streets for money because when I did that it meant the difference between eating and not eating, this just means the difference between eating organic food or not.
The owner's a nice guy and good at dealing with people, assuming you're the kind of person that doesn't consider children and tourists to be people. I'm not that kind of person, so when I saw him leap a chain-link fence, dash onto the track despite the oncoming traffic, to get red in the face, screaming at a 10-year-old boy who was being "reckless", I was a little taken aback.
"You gotta look'em in the eye when you put'em in these cars," he said to me after this little episode, "to see what they're made of, to see if they got the self-confidence to handle one of these things."
It's like he thinks the damn things were made of glass. These are sturdy machines with very low center of gravity and a quarter-inch thick, 5-inch high steel frame that completely encircles each one. Even at top speed, and straight into a wall, it would be nearly unimaginable to cause any significant damage.
But, whatever. I don't work with him too much as I usually choose to be scheduled with my uncle who runs the place some nights to give the owner a break. I don't usually get out until 10:30PM so, instead of biking the 12 miles back home in the dark, I usually crash at my uncle's place which is only a few blocks away. He's got a double-wide a stone's throw from a beautiful beach on the open ocean that used to just serve as a beach-house but is now his permanent residence. I spent a lot of time there as a kid and its fun go back, even if it is a little distracting from my writing.
It's a pretty cushy life right now, I just kind of miss being around people my own age that share my interests and sensibilities, but it gets me writing more, which is what I'm here for anyway.
Here's some pictures. The first three are from the bridge that spans the intra-coastal waterway and connects the mainland to the southernmost Outer Bank island, then the double-wide, the path to the beach, the beach and the pier. I'll get some pictures of the go-cart track soon, but until then... Enjoy!
The owner's a nice guy and good at dealing with people, assuming you're the kind of person that doesn't consider children and tourists to be people. I'm not that kind of person, so when I saw him leap a chain-link fence, dash onto the track despite the oncoming traffic, to get red in the face, screaming at a 10-year-old boy who was being "reckless", I was a little taken aback.
"You gotta look'em in the eye when you put'em in these cars," he said to me after this little episode, "to see what they're made of, to see if they got the self-confidence to handle one of these things."
It's like he thinks the damn things were made of glass. These are sturdy machines with very low center of gravity and a quarter-inch thick, 5-inch high steel frame that completely encircles each one. Even at top speed, and straight into a wall, it would be nearly unimaginable to cause any significant damage.
But, whatever. I don't work with him too much as I usually choose to be scheduled with my uncle who runs the place some nights to give the owner a break. I don't usually get out until 10:30PM so, instead of biking the 12 miles back home in the dark, I usually crash at my uncle's place which is only a few blocks away. He's got a double-wide a stone's throw from a beautiful beach on the open ocean that used to just serve as a beach-house but is now his permanent residence. I spent a lot of time there as a kid and its fun go back, even if it is a little distracting from my writing.
It's a pretty cushy life right now, I just kind of miss being around people my own age that share my interests and sensibilities, but it gets me writing more, which is what I'm here for anyway.
Here's some pictures. The first three are from the bridge that spans the intra-coastal waterway and connects the mainland to the southernmost Outer Bank island, then the double-wide, the path to the beach, the beach and the pier. I'll get some pictures of the go-cart track soon, but until then... Enjoy!
posted by Zackataca at 10:20 AM
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