I thought today I’d talk about racing and romance. I love both. Someone told me the other day that racing and romance have nothing in common.
I beg to differ.
The rush as the cars fly by, the rush as the hero takes the heroine’s hand for the first time. It’s all about the high octane emotions involved. Tell me you’ve never felt your heart skip a beat when you’re watching a romantic comedy or a drama or whatever, and the hero and heroine kiss for the first time. It’s magic. It’s electric. It’s that rush.
Racing is much the same. There’s the adrenaline high of rolling out onto the track ready to conquer. The thrill of hearing forty-three cars come to life, ready to duke it out. The passing, the brushing the wall, the razor thin separation as they come to the stripe for the last time. Whew! It’s exciting.
And then there’s the trophy queens and the draw of the suit. The trophy queens add that little bit of sexuality—like a sport with toned bodies really needs sex appeal—and female interest for male fans. They want to see her skin tight body in that uniform.
Same goes for the girls. There are a lot of women who get a charge out of a guy in a suit or uniform…any uniform. Maybe the fire suits aren’t skin tight, but they show just enough to get the imagination going. Kinda like that old jeans commercial…what’s under those fire suits? I’m game to finding out.
Now how does this translate into a parallel between racing and romance?
In romance, we want the hero to be a conquering, no-holds-barred, alpha. Take charge, snag the heroine’s heart, and command the situation. If he’s wearing a snazzy suit, then bonus! The heroine must stand behind her man in the clinch. She must be willing to put him in his place when he’s wrong and give him a run for his money in bed. In my case, I want her to be realistic, too. I want them to go through thick and thin, have some hot monkey sex, swing from a few chandeliers, and come out swinging against the antagonist. They come out stronger on the other side of the conflict, more in love than ever.
I want the same from my drivers. I want them to come out swinging every time they hit the track. Bring their A game to every chance, and to have that person standing beside them, no matter how crappy their finish was.
So I look at it this way, racing has adrenaline highs, sweeping outcomes, nail biting moments, hot guys in uniforms, and thrills. Romance? Adrenaline highs in suspense stories, sweeping outcomes like when the heroine thinks she’s not in love with the hero but really is, nail biting moments—will they make it out of that cave alive or will they drown, but drown together?—hot guys in uniforms—isn’t that what a cop story is for?—and thrills.
And you thought I’d never make the comparison. *g* I’ve watched way too much racing, read way too many romance novels, and thought about this for a lot longer than necessary. What do you think? I’m sure you have an opinion. Am I wrong? Change my point of view? Come on. Let me know. I’m dying to hear from you.