My hero

About 12 years ago, a very little me started picking up car magazines instead of textbooks to read. I would pour over the contents of several different publications, gradually building up quite a collection as the years went by. Car reviews, tyre reviews, price guides; i loved them all. There was one section of every magazine in particular, however, that i thoroughly enjoyed reading and re-reading.

Almost all of my friends know that i have a fervent passion for rallying, and it was these now old and mouldy magazines that opened my eyes to this incredible form of motorsport. More accurately, it was one particular rally driver in a blue and yellow Subaru that sparked and fueled my interest for the WRC.

This driver, a rather tall and broad shouldered Scotsman, wasn't always the quickest through the rally stages. At times he lacked consistency, and the numerous crashes and rolls in his history of offs might lead you to wonder how on earth he actually became the 1995 world rally champion. To be honest, i remember a time when i became increasingly frustrated with the results of my Scottish hero. By the 2003 season, he had stopped winning rallies, and occasionally seemed to give up the fight even before the rally started. But nonetheless, my faith in him never faltered, because of the memories he gave the world when he was at his peak.

I started watching the WRC on television in 1997, and began taping every single 30 min coverage of each round throughout the year. My hero, in his blue and yellow liveried Subaru, set the world's rally stages alight, living up to his then reputation as rally's most flamboyant driver. By no means am I exaggerating when i say that i remember every single detail of that short in-car video clip of this Scotsman taking on the Bunnings Jumps in Rally Australia 1997. The images of that almost perfect blue sky, the orange brown tinge of the Australian gravel, the whining engine note as the car went through the air at over 150kmp/h, and the adrenaline pumped banter that commenced between him and his co-driver Nicky Grist the moment they crossed the finish line.

I remember the magazine pictures of my hero, sideways through the mud in Medan. I remember the scenes of his Subaru blasting through the moist fog of Swansea. I remember the touching moment in 2002 when he climbed onboard Petter Solberg's car for a chat when the latter was suffering from a horrible run of bad luck. I remember buying a 400 dollar Tamiya radio control kit back in secondary school, just because it was a model of his winning rally car on the 1997 Rally Corsica. I remember the first time i sat in my father's Subaru Forester, and how the sight of the bulging bonnet scoop instantly brought me back to those tapes from which i watched my hero drift sideways through dirt, snow and tarmac. I remember how hard i hoped that he would become the 2002 WRC champion after his two back-to-back victories in Kenya and Greece. I remember sitting on my sofa bed in my lower secondary school days, with a plastic wheel in my hand and a paintbrush container stuffed into the cushion as a gear stick, mimicking every movement of my hero's body as I had watched him do so many times on the television.

I remember thinking how cool he looked because he drove with his arms relatively outstretched compared to other rally drivers. I remember how clearly his Scottish accent made the way he said "for sure" sound just so much classier than his Finnish and European competitors. I remember how he looked as he walked away from the camera after retiring in Rally New Zealand 1997, and wishing that one day i would become as broad shouldered as he was. I remember how eagerly i would purchase every Rally XS magazine, just to see if they had any additional coverage of my hero in action. I remember reading in an article about how he drove his own Lamborghini Murcielago back home after a rally. I remember...

This list could just go on and on, and it was only until today that I realised how big of an impact this man had on my life. As I grew up, I idolized him. It was because of him that I began to love rally, and how I gradually became fascinated with Subarus. More importantly, it was through his words and actions that I started to conceptualize how a real man should talk and behave. He was tough, direct, and one who truly let his actions speak louder than his words. In more ways than one, there are small but undeniable features of my hero etched into how I decided to change myself for the better.

It's incredible how much of an impact an idol can have on your life, and how sad it is to only know this after he's gone.

My rally hero, Colin McRae, died in a helicopter crash yesterday. He was believed to have been piloting the aircraft near his home with his 5 year old son and 2 friends onboard as passengers when the accident occurred. Tragically, there were no survivors from the crash. Colin McRae is survived by his wife Alison and his daughter Hollie.

All over the Internet, there are reports and interviews saying pretty much the same thing; how Colin shook up the rally world and single-handedly popularized the sport around the globe. As a fan, I won't deny this fact. Colin has masses of fans, all of whom adore him for his flamboyance behind the wheel, his ballistic courage on the stages, and his pure and in-your-face personality. But for me, Colin isn't just my rally god. He's still my hero, and as silly as it may sound, his life affected mine more than you can imagine.

Rest in peace Colin McRae, and thanks for everything.

If u have the time, go and check out this old 80s ballad by Richard Marx called Endless Summer Nights.

When you're driving at 5am in the morning, with the windows down and wind in you hair, this song just makes the whole experience a whole lot more special. That saxophone intro, the crimson clouds in the night sky, it just clicks.

That's for me anyway.

Happy new year.

3am

Yes, it's 3 am in the morning, and i'm still awake. I really should be tucked into my bed, but here i am, typing an entry, into my severely neglected blog. Well, to all, I'm alive and well. Just about everything in my life, is going well. I have a wonderful wonderful girlfriend, whom I'm very much in love with. I have lots and lots of friends, who somehow manage to keep most of my evenings and early mornings occupied. Things at work are.... decent. Definitely not perfect, but definitely not enough to make me shoot myself. My parents are pretty much e same, just... well, you know parents. Yeah, i'm doing good.

It's 3.17, and gosh I really should be sleeping. But then again, this IS my holiday. A one week break from being an NSF? Any Singaporean will know that THAT, IS, a pretty big deal. Well, I've pretty much slacked as much as i've wanted to. Waking up after lunch time, having breakfast at 2.34pm in my stinky T-shirt and shorts, blasting miles away on my PS2, then spending the entire evening with either Rong, or with one group of friends (the latter always manages to keep me out till the wee hours of the morning, which is why it's 3.20am now)

Visiting the SMU website is now a pointer in my daily "To-Do" list. Yes, I've applied for SMU Business. I've sent in my documents, and I've sent in the cheque. Now I'm just waiting for someone over at their grand Admin block to process the damn thing and give me some form of acknowledgement! To tell you the truth, I can't quite picture myself studying there. A university built next to City Hall? Less than 15 mins away from town? Who would have thought of that. And what about that campus? What a looker! A high tech complex of the 21 st century, right down to it's underground linkage system to those classy slabs of marble to, oh dear, i've just remembered i've never stepped into that place. Anyway, what I'm trying to get to is that I'm pretty impatient. Yes, i know it takes TIME and EFFORT for them to process, or whatever that means, my application. But I can't help but feel a little uneasy in my seat. I'm 7 months away from my ORD (yahoo!) and I still don't have any concrete plans for my future education? It's not a nice feeling fellas. And to top it all off, I have to wait till March '06 to apply for either NUS or NTU. More waiting then...

Just read from Yahoo news that a grandfather in the US has been sued by some media publishing rights company, for downloading movies off the net. Firstly, this old man doesn't like movies, and secondly, the old geezer probably doesn't even know what the heck is iMesh, or Ares. Yeah, his grandson did it, and he has to pick up the tab. 600 000, all 'Merican greens. The tiny little problem that the big wigs at the top, probably didn't notice, was that this old man was living somewhere below the poverty line. I mean, come on. Any parent who leaves his/her kid under the permenant care of a grandparent, must be havin some kind of trouble. And chances are, the grandparent ain't gonna be particularly well off either. So why slam this poor old man with a $600, 000 fine, when they KNOW that he can't afford it? Furthermore, his grandson did the clicking! Isn't the great income disparity gap enough? Do they want to start a "fairness disparity gap" as well, where rich folks get sundaes and back rubs from politicians, while Mr Brown goes around picking scraps from government welfare trash bins?

Let me put it to you this way. An uber-rich man buys his son an island for his birthday. Yes, an island of the coast of sandy Costa hoo-hah. Believe it, this shit happens. And as you'd expect, all wildlife on this little island will get wiped out, depending on the little boy's wishes. Cue pollution, waste etc etc. Now will Mr Uber-rich, get fined 600, 000 bucks, no wait, how bout 6000 dollars worth of fines, due to infringement of national health and environmental laws? The answer is no. Why? Because the authorities wouldn't dare to. Some way or another, Mr Uber-rich, thanks to all his uber-richness, is connected to them. Screw him up, and you'll find a nail 2 inches from your rectum. So who to fry on the pan? Poor, defenseless folk, like Mr "I don't know shit bout iMesh" Grandpa. What's he going to do? Threaten to piss on your lawn?

So you see boys and girls, the motto of the story is, whenever u see some poor homeless guy suffer some form of injustice so great, it defies description, just remember that indirectly, a rich guy's at fault. Or, perhaps the real motto is, get rich. Really rich. uber-rich. It's 3.53 now, good nite y'all.