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Category: racing

You Are There: The Moment When Smoking Unfiltered Cigarettes Officially Became Slightly More Dangerous Than Driving

You Are There: The Moment When Smoking Unfiltered Cigarettes Officially Became Slightly More Dangerous Than Driving


The Camel Trophy was an endurance race run through various third-world hellholes to see whose jeep or jeep-like vehicle would break down last, or which team of competitors would run out of unfiltered cigarettes last. The cigarettes were to cover the stink of the smelly Frenchman or Turk or whatever in the passenger seat, generally, and when you ran out, you’d quit. Failing that, you could always burn your car to a cinder making tea on the engine block if you were a smelly Brit, instead. The race was run for twenty years, from 1980 through 2000, when people just started staying home and waiting for natural disasters to signal the beginning of races to the 7-11 in their econoboxes to buy milk and bread.

F1 Beats Taking A Left Any Day

F1 Beats Taking A Left Any Day


Well, the cars sound like sewing machines, but man do they fly around the track. Pit stops are borderline insane, too.

F1 drivers get all sorts of hot girlfriends, it’s true, and tons of money, and adrenaline rushes out the wazoo, of course, but they’re all going to have to live with the knowledge that not one of them could beat me home from work on Friday afternoon.

Idyllic Bucolic Cyrillic Scene Improved By The Splashing And Crashing Tractor Factor

Idyllic Bucolic Cyrillic Scene Improved By The Splashing And Crashing Tractor Factor


Somehow, I’m reminded of Kramer and Newman on the subway playing Risk. Ukraine not weak!

Anyway, fractured Soviet block aside, it’s still more entertaining than taking 2000 lefts and stopping at a gas stations with all the attendants in spandex uniforms every once in while. 

[Thanks to our friend Charles Schneider for sending that one along]

The Isle Of Man Oh Man That’s Fast

The Isle Of Man Oh Man That’s Fast


Let’s face facts. If they didn’t have the coolest motorcycle race in the world, the Intertunnel wouldn’t pay much attention to the Isle of Man.

But we’re the Borderline Sociopathic Blog for Boys, so we’re duty-bound to pay attention to someplace called “The Isle of Man”, aren’t we? It’s like a law or a rule or good manners or something. During race time, The Isle of Man is an isle of real men, holding on with all their might to a rocket with two wheels. The rest of the year is just the home of Manx housecats, I’m pretty sure.

It’s the most exhilarating race of any kind in the world.  And since the world is a wonderful place with cameras everywhere, we get to go along for the ride.