I am delirious. Strange triangles keep flitting by my eyes, sometimes so much that I cannot see where I am going, but they do not appear capable of harming me directly. If any appear during an intense race as I am taking a sharp corner, however... Less noticeable, but no less unsettling, are the shadows. Sometimes, they flicker like old fluorescent lights. Sometimes the edges of shadows, even my own, shift and undulate. No light sources that I can see could possibly cause that, but I can offer no explanation. Perhaps it is a quantum light reflection effect caused by atmospheric pollution around race tracks? Still, all worry fades from my mind as I see the light reflecting perfectly off the smooth curves of my race car. I am not ashamed to admit she is the most beautiful thing I have seen.
My fellow racers are sometimes behaving very strangely. It is just a gut feeling, but not one of them drives with passion. In the last race I took contact with one of the other cars twice, at high speeds. I would have expected some anger and competitiveness, but the driver just let me pass, and after the race when I attempted to find him to apologise, he kept avoiding me.They are so cold I sometimes wonder if they live and feel at all. They do not seem to be affected by the intermittently appearing triangles. Perhaps they do not see them at all. Should I ask them? But if I am the only one seeing these things, I will seem insane to them. Perhaps I should see my physician.
I have not seen any more triangles today. Whatever phenomenon or illness was causing that must have been set right overnight. My recently polished and washed car shines like never before and more than an hour had passed before I realised I had been admiring her all the while. But I could swear some of the other drivers' cars are able to momentarily defy physics, and when I asked one about it, he looked at me silently before walking away. (Or she? Or it? I cannot tell, as they never remove their driving helmets. Come to think of it, I have not removed mine either where anyone could see. Intrinsic paranoia? But with other drivers like this, who could blame me.)
No more strange occurrences have happened for several days. Had I not written down what I had seen, I might suspect I had only imagined it all, except for the shadows. The shadow cast by the tall audience stand I see not far away continues to waver. I might call it heat haze, were my own shadow not wobbling gently as I set these words down. Everywhere I look, shadows seem to have a life of their own, but so far they seem harmless.
To make friends and allies, I attempted to invite a fellow driver, H. Ronttinen from the Netherlands, to supper with me. His name does not sound Dutch in the least to me, but I presume his family must have immigrated there at some time. We took our food to a picnic table with a good view of the local track, but he did not seem inclined to take a seat, so we both stood by the table. At this time the realisation came upon me that neither of us could actually eat without removing our helmets first. I was ready to remove mine as soon as he removed his, but the air was too tense for us both, so we ended up just standing there for half an hour in complete silence.
I was gazing at the clouds earlier today, when I realised I was seeing what I can only describe as a strange blockiness, as if the clouds were composed of small cubes instead of a condensed mass of water vapor. Perplexed, I took a walk to examine my surroundings more closely, something I seldom pay attention to while in the midst of a race. The trees look nothing like I remember trees used to look like. Seen close by, they are more akin to cardboard cutouts. The real shock came when I approached the audience stands, however. I was horrified to see that what I had thought were the audience, were also seemingly flat cardboard cutouts. Yet they kept turning by some invisible force to always face me directly. I watched hundreds of pairs of eyes following me as I walked past the stands, while the excited roar of the people seemed to come from all around me despite there being no race on. A few of the cardboard people were moving their arms steadily and tirelessly back and forth for no purpose I could fathom. I had to struggle to contain my rising apprehension. Then I saw the mechanics running toward me, and was overtaken by a momentary urge to scream and run away from them in terror. They were telling me that the next race was starting and it was necessary for me to return with them to the pit area straight away. I numbly allowed them to lead me away from the stands...
They have given me hardly any time to sleep. Race after race, and, I am not a little proud to say, more than my share of victories. Yet I feel as though they are trying to keep me busy, deny me time to think and investigate. I have not been able to look for more unexplainable events, when I am forced to keep racing and all I can see are the shiny cars and the racing track, and all I hear is the roar of engines, the scream of wheels, and the indistinct cheering that I used to believe was the racing audience. Whether it is more frightening to think that there are other, invisible spectators to our races, or that none of it is real and in truth no one outside my own mind sees my victories, I cannot say. I am hiding behind a portable restroom. I cannot write long, as I hear them calling me to race again...
I do not have much time. Something big is about to happen. I am sure of it. I need more time to understand everything! I must think of some way to protect myself, while I am able.
I feel renewed today, refreshed, and eager to race! My faithful pit boss took me aside this morning and explained that I had been under considerable stress lately, causing everyone worry, a point I could readily see. We agreed I will get more sleep, begin a steady regimen of energy drinks and, if I win this week's 7-race cup, we will be able to afford a new, more powerful car! He vouched it will be even more captivatingly shiny than the one before, so that I can scarcely bear to look away from it. My former hysteria is now a fading memory, and I can laugh at the foolish visions my tired senses played upon me. I look forward to many more thrilling races! The more inconceivable odds, the better. The sweetest victories are those no one expects.