Bitch Kitty Racing

Le Mans has finished, and I have a huge crush on Aston Martin Racing’s No.009. No.007, her twin, is also completely hot. I’d jump in her back seat any day, but there’s just something about 009 that makes me feel all goofy. I know it’s just a subtle paint difference, but it works.

009 went into the garage to have a clutch replaced with three hours remaining in the race. Like everyone who loves an injured athlete, I chewed my nails and paced incessantly, going crazy with the waiting, watching her lead slip away and her place standing fall farther and farther down. When she finally shot out of the pits I was overwhelmed with relief, sharing her joy in the the fact that she would finish.

Le Mans isn’t always about winning. My little darling went 2,900 miles at an average speed of 120 mph, and she was stopped for an hour. This is a grueling race, and in order to win you first need to finish. Just like everything else in life. Sometimes it takes a few spare parts, but you get the job done. This is why I love endurance racing.

It’s also why I love 009. She’s pretty, one of the finest-looking race cars I have ever laid eyes on, but being pretty gets you nowhere with me. It’s the fact that she’s tough as dirt that makes me love her. It’s the fact that she’s supremely capable. It’s the fact that she finished fourth on a broken clutch after running like hell all day and all night with forty-nine other guys trying to beat the crap of her that makes me love her.

Total respect.