Reflections from the back seat

You know what they say about back seat drivers don’t you? We always know better than the driver but we rarely get listened to.

Well Whaleoil is Cam’s  ‘ car ‘ and quite frankly for many years I longed for him to own a nice practical people mover that didn’t attract attention.

But no, he had a dream and he was determined to first build the car from scratch and then turn the car into a racing car.


We couldn’t afford a ‘ car ‘ and we couldn’t afford fuel and for many many years it ran on the smell of a Whale oily rag. I wasn’t too pleased with it as I wanted a ‘ normal ‘ life like the one we used to have before.

As he learned to race there were a number of crashes as well as minor accidents. He was often a reckless driver back then and he wouldn’t listen to me because all he was focused on was the race. I would point out the dangers but he would go ahead anyway and then we would both end up in hospital as where the car went, I went too.


Over time I began to take pride in his car as it had a snazzy new paint job with mag wheels and he was now winning races. Some of the other competitors mocked his driving skills and the car but he didn’t let that stop him. I began to notice a real change in his driving skills and also in his handling of tight corners and slippery roads. He was now focused to my relief more on safety and not just on getting to the finish line.


He attracted over time a loyal pit crew and eventually a top notch mechanic who soon had the engine purring along.

It was around this time that rumours started to be spread that he was cheating the system and that he was using rocket fuel. He offered again and again for the officials to check his petrol tank but no one was interested. He shrugged this off and so did I. As a back seat driver I was enjoying the ride now and even jumped up on the podium with him after one win to have my photo taken with him.

Then things took a sinister turn. Tyres were slashed, his brakes were interfered with. Things turned ugly. We were told that he was to never race again. That his sort of racing was dirty and only his competitors cars were allowed on the track. His friends were targeted as well as anyone who associated with him. These people meant business and it was clear that they expected us to stop racing, to sell the car and to never be involved in racing again.

The stress is intense. We both lack sleep as we have difficulty sleeping. The attacks against the car are ongoing. Sensible people would cave to the pressure and give the bastards what they want.

I have a message for them.

 See you on the track.






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