For a time in my life, I was a motoring journalist. My favorite memory of that time is when an old geezer kicked my ass on the Subic International Raceway when I was testing new tires that BF Goodrich was launching in the Philippines. That man was the legend himself--Pocholo Ramirez.
I just passed the starting line and was on the straight-away when from out of the pit came out hurtling Sir Poch. I said, “Here is my chance! All I have to do is try to keep his line and I could race like a pro!”
I of course, failed miserably at it and by the third turn was eating dust. By the time I reached the second to the last turn Sir Poch was already behind me. I drove into the Pit so that he wouldn’t get the chance to overtake me. The fact that he was in front of me and then was behind me meant that he drove the track in half the time it took me.
That was as exhilarating as it got. My worst memory was also with Sir Poch on the same day. I took the TV crew of then ABC 5 around to take establishing shots. During one turn I managed to skid 720 degrees into the gravel past the fast chicane. Were I not able to control the spin, we would have ended up on the concrete barrier rather than the gravel trap.
Past the start, the same old geezer who just made me eat dust and kicked my ass was waving me into the pit, even though it meant going against traffic. I thought he would bite my head off, and I deserved it if he did. But to my surprise, he simply said, “Are you ok? Good. Look, you were just tired, that’s why you made the mistake. That was good driving, take a break then go again later. Ok?”
And for that I will never forget Sir Poch. It was an honor to have interviewed him, covered with him, drove in a convoy with him, and raced with him. He will be missed. Vaya con Dios Senyor Poch.
Rumination 01
11 years ago
