[8695Beaters]

I had to write a paper for my Engish 110 class a month ago about being "literate within a specific community." I of course picked a racing related topic (in this case what is the difference between a Racer and a Ricer). Here is the paper as I submitted it and my thoughts on the topic. Enjoy.

The Origins Of Rice

In the world of sport compact cars, there are two types of people: fans and enthusiasts. Enthusiasts pour every cent they have into their car. One running joke is that enthusiasts would eat top ramen and hot dogs just to pay for their car. And there are two types of enthusiasts: Racers and Ricers. I am a Racer. I have been since the day I was born.
So what’s the difference between Racers and Ricers? A handful of distinct traits. Both Racers and Ricers start with cheap cars like Civics or Corollas, and both want to go faster. Both spend all their money on their cars. But Racers only buy parts that make their cars fast. Ricers add body kits, lights, and stereos: parts that don’t add performance to the car. But what really separates Racers and Ricers is attitude. Racers know a lot about cars and are not afraid to be wrong and learn something different. Ricers walk and drive with a ****y attitude, pretending to be Racers. They think they know everything and are insulted when they are wrong. They also think they are fast because they have lightweight cars and a (maybe) few simple upgrades. Racers are fast, and improve their car when they lose. True Racers never act like they are faster than they are. Ricers make excuses. Racers help each other out and have some fun. Ricers try to stab each other in the back. And while the majority of Ricers have cheap compact cars, there are plenty of rich Ricers as well.

My story about Rice involves one such individual. In September, I joined the Formula SAE team at the University [of Delaware]. The team builds a racecar and competes in competitions every year. To join, you don’t need to be a genius, but you do have to come with an open mind and pull your load. I walked into the first meeting and was immediately struck by how little I knew and how talented the older members were. It was a humbling experience for me. But there was another there who races Autocross a few weekends a year with his dad. Later I would ride in his BMW and listen to him brag about what he had bought and listen to his expensive stereo. But at that first meeting, he just carried an attitude that he was a pro because he had an expensive car. That ****iness was always there. He missed meetings, driving days (where we practice driving our current car), and never showed up to work on our new car.

Reckoning day was a very cold Sunday in February. It was the first opportunity for most of the freshman to drive. There is no better joy for enthusiasts. Finally our BMW-driving Ricer gets to take the wheel for the first time. He had hinted at how fast he was and now he would get the chance to back up his smack. He straps in and peels out of the pit area, blasting straight for the first corner. It should be mentioned that on the inside of the corner was a Mazda sedan that had been parked for a few days, and to the outside was a puddle with patches of ice. He overshoots the first corner and hits a cone (thankfully missing the other obstacles). He then proceeds to hit two more cones on the same lap. Every two laps he hits the same cone in the same spot. I am dispatched to grab that cone and set it back up before he comes barreling by again. Finally he pulls in and gets out of the car (much to my relief). He has been turning times of around 23 seconds, which is top of the day. But by hitting at least two cones a lap, his competition time would really be around 27 seconds. When he takes off the helmet, he says, “I was trying to cut the corners just a bit closer.” One of the senior members then replies, “Is there anything closer to hitting the cone?”

30 minutes later it is my turn. To be fair, this was my third time driving the car. But both of my other runs were on bald tires with no grip, and one run was on a completely different course at a different parking lot. I have also never Autocrossed. I drive a beat up old Integra (a car that I know and admit is the riciest thing on campus), not a fast BMW. And I show up multiple times a week to work in the shop and get our new car built. My lap times were in the 24-second range, on par with many of the senior members and the best of the freshman. The only cone I hit was on the last corner on my twelfth and final lap. When I stepped out of the car I was met with a number of smiles and congratulations. Many of the older members complimented me on a smooth and consistent run.

The end result was that the next day in the shop, I was being called by name (not “one of the Freshmen”) and was now being given harder tasks. The team now trusts me, and the older members ask me to help them out. That was the day I really became a part of the team. I had proven my literacy in the team. I hadn’t been bragging about my car, skill, or knowledge, and I hadn’t been complaining about not driving. I had been doing work and asking questions and learning. But by pushing the racecar and showing strong driving talent, I had cemented my part on the team. I had proven myself as a Racer. And as for our BMW-owning Ricer? Well, as one of the other members put it, “We’ll tell him to meet at one place [to go to competition] and the rest of the team to meet somewhere else.”

The End

Actually I now have a nickname, Curly (curly hair, get it?). Check out the competiton at Fontana in June. We will be there.

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