I feel the torque kick in past 6000 rpm. The surge of power and sound, the intake whistling as it shovels gallons of air into the breathless combustion chamber. The sweet tune of the cams as they sing a song of rotational torture. The seemingly endless mountain of power builds past 6500, urging the beast onward. My hands clench the wheel firmly, ready for the turn in. 7500 rpm's, 3rd gear, I reach the sweeper.
I come in wide, feeling the understeer build. The muscles of my neck and shoulders struggle to cope with the G forces as the rumble strip comes closer. The apex approaches. I'm pushed forward by the engine braking as the load is let off. My foot dangles eagerly above the accelerator, just waiting for that precious moment when I can open the throttle back up. Rear tires chirp as the beast tries to swing her hips, but a slight steering adjustment silences their unwanted remarks. The orange cone comes closer and closer. I fight the natural urge to put my foot down as the revs drop. The engine moans relief. Closer, closer...closer...My eyes barely register the orange cone marking the apex as it flashes by on my left, my foot is already feathering the gas. Just a little bit further. I let the understeer run me wide, using every inch of available road.
The grip kicks in, and my foot goes down. Like a fiend, I savor the feeling of being pushed into the seat as the revs build. The noise is that of monsoon winds and thunder, the voice of Zeus as he roars in fury. My left foot itches as the engine revs hard. Wait for it. Wait for it. 8500, 8700, 8800...The power tapers off and I know I'm leaving the band. The road is straight. 9000, 9100.... I feel the front end lift as I approach insane speed. The shifter vibrates. The red light flashes, slowly at first, then faster. The cams howl in pain as the variable valve timing tries to adjust. Finally, when the beast can take no more, my left foot dips the clutch as my right hand moves the shifter to fourth. It engages seamlessly. The torque is back.