Join the new world

Day 1051 of the New World

It is a cool afternoon in West Alaska (FER). The National Anthem plays and thousands of fans have their hands over their hearts. The final words echo through the stadium: “ O’er the land of the free… and the home of the brave…”



I stand by myself, my auto positioned at the starting line on the FER Motor Speedway. The girl of my dreams was not there but at least my homies are in the pits as they are now my surrogate family. All my relatives- father, mother, brothers and sisters have died fighting in Resistance wars and I’m the last of the bloodline of the US-born Greek resistance fighters that were born post-V2. My father’s credo echoes in my hea😛 “To be victorious, you must act like a victor. “ I puff out my chest and stand a little taller. I reach a towering six foot one on my tiptoes.

I did not have time to eat breakfast this morning so instead I just drank what my corporate sponsor gave me.


Yes, Pepsi-cola.

The driving instructions began.

“Starting in the first position…” The announcer’s voice booms, and the adrenaline begins to pump through my red-blooded veins. The crowd begins to hum as the driver’s names are called I fade in and out. My position was in the fifty-sixth. I had time to spare.

Thousands of people surround me; the place is brimming with excitement. “ Starting in the first position… .” I did not heard his name but I’m sure he was the crowd favorite. The crowd cheers louder and I snap back to attention. There were some boos from the opposite camp but I wasn’t surprised. Even though he usually gets all the adoration, it is human nature to be jealous and the saying that for every successful racer that there lies a pack of haters.

I look around the speedway. I am just as astounded by the size of the place as it was the first time that I set foot in the cathedral of American racing in a foreign land. I heard my childhood friend announce😛 “ Starting in the fifty-fifth position…” and I knew that it was about to be my turn. I remember myself and the crew I was part of. We were called the Juneau G6.

Poppin' bottles in the ice, like a blizzard
When we drink we do it right getting slizzard
Sippin' sizzurp in my ride, like a three 6
Now I'm feelin' so fly like a G6

It was fun and innocent times where we were still learning to navigate the ice roads and occassionally get drunk in the process. I do not condone underage drunk driving but yes, we did it. Not a proud moment of my life and I’ve learned my lesson when I almost drove over a bridge.



“ Starting in the fifty-sixth, position. Charlie MacGruber.” I look to my teammate standing next to me. I want to ask him if this is real. I want to make sure that I am not in a dream.The entire stadium roared louder than I have ever heard before when the car girls showed up. Even with my earplugs, it sure was deafening. I turned to the sky and saw the sun shining on my face. “ Wow,” I said. “This is it.”

“ Impressive, mate.” Another driver tells me. Good eye-candy. Raven-haired, brown-eyed, long-haired chick. I asked her name and she shook her head and sai😛 “ You’ll hear it soon enough.”



The announcer sai😛 “Drivers, to your cars.”

I stepped into the car and whistle a song to calm me down. Like a G6… Like a G6

I grabbed to the steering wheel.

Focus, I told myself.

The announcer performs the invocation.

It’s just another race for the others there. Same as every other race. But for me, it was my gig. My opportunity to make a mark. To be not just another grunt in this newly conquered land.

A trumpet sounds out taps.

“You are not going to win it in the first lap. Pace yourself.” I keep telling myself.

The marching band begins to play “ Back Home in Alaska” and a thousand balloons were released into the sky.

Hang tough. Maintain control.

“Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.”

To be victorious, I must act like a victor.

Deus tem um plano. God has a plan.

(to be continued…)