Neil Armstrong, the first man to ever walk on the moon, and Babe Ruth, also known as the Bambino, apparently both spent at least one night in this somptuous hotel, which out here in Whitefield, New Hampshire, is known as the Mountain View.
Some say this same hotel also used to be a retreat for American presidents such as Dwight Eisenhower and Theodore Roosevelt.
I couldn't care less about all this, though, as I set foot in the lobby. Then later on, I couldn't sleep, obsessed that I was with the next day's progam. As a hooligan at heart, I was really looking forward to my day at Team O'Neil Rally School, where I expected to spend most of my time sideways. For this reason, I felt betrayed when the instructor that greeted our group started lecturing us on left foot braking, and trail braking and straight line braking and weight transfer and some other things. Betrayed as if my own mother had just sold me to a slave trader.
Only a few words from the man's long and convoluted allocution therefore stuck with me: "oversteer", "opposite lock" and "throttle". The rest, I am afraid, was completely lost on me. Mercifully, the instructor eventually ran out of things to say after what felt like hours and we all got up and left to finally get in the cars we were here to drive. But out on the course, I had an epiphany. The classroom session really did have a purpose. I realized this as I stuffed my Ford Fiesta in the snowbank for the umpteenth time. So I promised myself to listen more carefully next time I'm given the chance to spend time in a car with someone who actually knows what he's doing.
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