The Vision Thing

The main reason I used to root for Bobby Rahal in CART racing was that I identified with him.  It makes any race more interesting if you have a favorite.  I try to pick out 3 or 4, in case a couple of them "go south" early in the event.  It makes you feel like you have some skin in the game, even though you don't.

Rahal was a nerdy, nice, Midwesterner who came up through road racing.  He didn't start out in karts right after he learned to walk.  His father (an SCCA racer) told him "Get your education, then we'll worry about pro road racing."  (Hard to do these days: Danica Patrick did part of her high school in England, where she was already racing Formula 3.)  Bobby majored in history at a small liberal arts college and wore glasses--just like me!  He and TrueSports seemed like Everyman compared to the mighty Penske and Newman-Haas empires.  What could be sweeter than to see Rahal and Steve Horne and Jim Trueman hand them their heads?

Bobby Rahal when he had hair and before he represented bigtime sponsors.  Bobby and I have
been losing hair at about the same rate over the past 40 years.

The conventional wisdom was then (and probably still is) that if you wear glasses when racing, you'll never make it to the top of the tree.  Rahal did.  I've worn glasses since the 6th grade.  Massive astigmatism and near-sightedness--another thing shared with Bobby, unlike his driving talent.  Lasik surgery hadn't been invented when he turned pro.  When he wanted to run with the big dogs, he packed an extra pair of glasses for the weekend and cleaned the lenses before pulling on his helmet.  Glasses are second-nature to me: putting them on is the first thing I do in the morning; taking them off is the last thing I do at night.  I can shave without them, but that's about it.  I need glasses to function.  No doubt that's the way it was for Bobby before lasik surgery too.

How do I know when its time for a new prescription?  When (once again) I can't read the small print on a Rand McNally.  Or when the crawl on a large-screen TV 30 feet away is no longer readable.  This is before I can't read a street sign that says "Chrysanthemum Way," even if it's poorly designed: it's my early warning system.  (By the way, Rand McNally is a good measure of social change.  You could still get an Atlas in 2008, when my prescription was last updated.  Try to find a Rand McNally today.)

But my vision is not good enough lately.  I found myself tilting my head to read the license plate of a car 4 car-lenghts ahead of me.  An annoying lack of crispness was evident.  It takes about a second for your eyes to tell your brain to tell your foot to get on the brake pedal, and for your foot to do it.  I want to see as well as I possibly can, whether it's medium-distance on the Interstate or peripheral vision in the twisties.  As many of us four-eyes know, our States' DMV eye exam is to "minimum acceptable standards," not the best obtainable corrected vision.

So... I hauled my ...eyes... to Lenscrafters for a full exam and new prescription.  I'm back to 20/30: as good as it's gonna get (or ever was).  The optometrist told me people my age should wear sunglasses anytime they are outside.  It delays the onset of cataracts, which is driven in part by UV rays.  A baseball cap has been standard issue for me when the sunroof was open.  Sunglasses will be too, now.

Tricked out: besides new wheels and tires for my next Dragon run, I have new glasses.  The sunglasses are aviator style, of course, like Bobby Ray's.  Be True To Your School.