jump to navigation

Racing Pictures. 10/17/2005

I guess some of my readers may have noticed a series of pictures coming up featuring Ducatis running across various racetracks around the world. There will be more to come. I was given access to the Press database for Ducati, and thus have available to me pictures of Ducatis racing which are not available anywhere else.

The pictures are not public domain, and remain property of Ducati, but permission is given for publicity use.

I am indeed making full use of this access, downloading various pictures which have taken my fancy. The two wheeled equivalent of the Girl Friday, if you will. I am using the pictures as a yardstick for my own efforts in improving my skills as an amateur photographer. I have a long way to go, both technique and hardware wise. I’ve seen the equipment the pix guys in the MotoGP use, and it is nose bleedingly impressive. Telephoto lenses as long as your arm, monopods, high end digital SLRs. Not a single point-and-shoot in sight.

But more importantly, these guys have “the eye”. They can look at a bike coming round the corner, bring up the camera, aim, compose, and shoot. All in the space of a heartbeat. And get amazing results.

The price of a bullet, Part 1.

He was a good friend of ours. A rider. A student in the same university. He took some of the same courses we did. He went on rides with us. Came racing with me, sometimes. Drinking sessions, weekend BBQs. He was often around. Very quiet. He was an introspective kind of guy, I think. But there was one thing that set him apart from the rest of us.

We were all young, full of piss and vinegar. Eager to prove ourselves. He was a mature student, coming back to academia to finish his degree after being out in the corporate world. And he was married. He was sort of the older brother to all of us. He knew more about life than we did, that was for sure.

On weekend, after a spirited ride across the mountain roads, carving canyons, as we used to call it, we headed back to his place for a late lunch and bench racing session. Everything was hunky dory, not a single cloud in the sky. We kicked back with some beers, and proceeded to shoot the shit about the ride, the day, the uni, everything. A typical day for a bunch of guys. I guess you could call it male bonding.

We were putting the beers away fast and furious. He was sitting down with us, watching us quietly, laughing along at our jokes, but hardly contributing much to the conversation. Much like the way he always was. Thing were getting really mellow, and the sun was beginning its downward slide below the horizon, when he excused himself, saying that he had to go drain the lizard. We continued on drinking and laughing and joking, each trying to get out of having to make the trip to the refrigerator to get the next round.

When we heard the gunshot.

To be continued.

What are you looking at?

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Picture taken at Laguna Seca, 2005.