Gone With The Wind Tunnel
Guest Column By Cathy Elliott
Note: Media outlets may use this column in their publications, free of charge.
The NASCAR Sprint Cup Series’ visit to Atlanta Motor Speedway on week four of the season has a way of turning one’s thoughts Southeast, toward the roots of racing.
A very significant event first came to Atlanta a few years back as the culmination of three days of festivities and fanfare. It included fancy cars, huge crowds of creatively costumed admirers, and celebrities galore.
President Jimmy Carter would later recall it as “the biggest event to happen in the South in my lifetime.” (Atypically modest for a politician, President Carter was not speaking of his own election to the Oval Office.)
It was densely populated with rogues and rascals, heroes and hotheads, all visibly displaying both determination and desire.
The anticipation of seeing it for the very first time literally brought sober and responsible adults to tears.
This event was the 1939 premiere of the movie “Gone With the Wind,” adapted from Atlanta native Margaret Mitchell’s epic novel. Atlanta, the capital city of Georgia, the home of Coca-Cola and the host city for the 1996 Centennial Summer Olympics, will always and forever be inextricably linked with this Civil War-era masterpiece, which many consider to be the greatest film ever made.
It surely does sound similar to a Sprint Cup Series weekend, don’t you think?
The central character in the story is the fearless and feisty Scarlett O’Hara. The perennial belle of the ball, Scarlett stood out from the rest, thanks in no small part to her willingness to cast convention aside in favor of her endless desire to outshine the competition. She was different; she was special.
Atlanta Motor Speedway, at only 1.5 miles in length, boasts the highest racing speeds in NASCAR. The track encourages those who would conquer her to work harder, to race faster, tempting them with her alluring lack of mandated restrictor plate use. She is a standout on the circuit.
From the roguish Rhett Butler to the elegant Ashley Wilkes to the lively Tarleton twins, a host of suitors fervently vied for the coveted favor of the lovely Scarlett.
Head-to-head they fought; side by side they competed, not above resorting to a little friendly jostling of shoulders when they felt it was warranted in order to gain the advantage.
At times they believed the trophy to be within their reach, only to have it snatched away at the last minute.
AMS makes room for 43 competitors on her dance card twice each year. Sometimes the dancers move together with perfect, split-second coordination and rhythm. At other times, toes are trodden upon with a singular lack of delicacy.
In the end, however, only two can tango, which has provided fans with some of racing’s most exciting moments, such as Dale Earnhardt’s narrow victory over Bobby Labonte in the spring of 2000, or Jimmie Johnson’s win over Carl Edwards in one of last season’s wildest finishes. It is quality competition, and has been responsible for the destruction of more than a few manicures over the years.
Anything really worth having is worth fighting for, and the winner’s trophy at Atlanta Motor Speedway is a coveted jewel in every driver’s crown.
While those who go home empty-handed may outwardly shrug it off and immediately shift their focus to the next scheduled battle, don’t be fooled. The desire to emerge victorious burns as brightly in their bellies as the fires of army camps have burned the world over since the beginning of time.
Second place, to them, will never represent anything but second-best, and that is something about which they frankly, my dears, don’t give a … well, you know how that particular saying goes.
Fortunately, the time between battles is brief, affording them the opportunity to stop worrying about it today, and make plans to think about it tomorrow.
After all, tomorrow is another race.
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