The Blue Mist Descends On A Self-Proclaimed Idiot

The famous line from Macbeth, “It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing,” has resonated in my life time and time again, and I always go back to it. A tale told by an idiot? We’ve all heard those before!

 

And now I have one, too.

 

This tale, told by this idiot, is full of sound—engine noise—fury—furious speed, in this case—and a whole lot of nothing. It was a dark and stormy Monday morning, and the rain was calling me out to play. 

 

When you’re an adult, however, it isn’t quite the same as going out and playing in the rain when you were a kid. You’d look fairly ridiculous at your age if you threw on a rubber-ducky rain slicker and rain boots to go stomp in puddles. A more adult way of playing in the rain came to my mind, and off I went to play in the puddles—at the wheel of the 1 Series. My Continental DWS tires were my rain boots, and my DTC was my raincoat. Conti’s DWS—for Dry-Wet-Snow—are top-of-the-line all-season tires, and my personal favorites by far. These tires grip the road like a miser holding on to his last penny. 

 

On occasion, I take my tires for granted, and push them too hard around mountain corners. When they give up, they get loud, and the noise is my cue to cool my jets. Then I wind it down a bit, refocus on proper lines, and get back into a rhythm. Thank you, tires; your nagging has kept me in one piece—at least for now. 

 

If you’ve had any track experience, you might be familiar with “the red mist.” This hypnotic mental compulsion usually occurs on that last lap of the weekend, or at any time during a race. Either way, you have pumped yourself so full of adrenaline, ego, and spirit that your ability to make rational, safe decisions might be questionable. Your mind is on speed, and your judgment is cloudy. Your brain is pulsing, your heart is pumping, your fingers are sweating, and you hear loud heavy-metal music in your head (or Abba, your call).

 

And when the red mist descends, you believe you are invincible.

 

On this rainy day, I was experiencing what I like to call  “the blue mist” instead: a lack of focus on driving, with a million other things running through my head. My mind was clearly everywhere except where it should have been—on the road. Now, a nice ride along some twisty mountain roads with a good cup of coffee will allow you to mull over some ideas, and work out a lot of mental cobwebs. My tires were silent, the radio was quiet, and for about twenty minutes, the One and I worked through a few things.

 

But then the blue mist hit. I lost my concentration, my mind went off on a tangent, and before I knew it, there we went: one, two, three, four wheels, right off the side of the road. 

 

I had no idea what hit me until I realized that I had simply fallen too deep into the blue mist. My thoughts were not clearly focused on driving, and I put too much trust into the tires and traction control. I suppose I was also subconsciously expecting to hear my tires start nagging when they lost their grip—but, of course, it was wet. They don’t sing when it’s wet.

 

Fortunately, I was lucky enough to find myself in a runoff area that had recently been covered in a thick blanket of leaves from the hardwoods surrounding the road. Just three feet to my right, I could see a precarious pine tree leaning toward the road, and to my left I could see where the car was supposed to be. Without hesitation, I put the car down into second and worked my way slowly back onto the road. 

 

What went wrong? Easy: the blue mist. I’m a proficient driver, better than some, worse than others. There was no technical reason for an off, except that there was a swirling eddy of thoughts in my head, and not one of them was on the road. It only takes a second for the blue haze to descend, and you’re off. It could have been much worse: I could be lying in the wreckage of a 128i at the bottom of a hundred-foot ravine, instead of writing this.

 

So, spirited drivers, old and young alike, here is my cautionary tale: Always beware of the red mist, yes—but beware of the blue mist, too. It can consume you before you know it. Check yourself before you check your gauges; is your brain full of fuel and ready to concentrate at the task at hand? If not, find a coffee shop somewhere, and mull things over there. Then get in your car and drive—with all your senses alert and alive.

 

Don’t put the rest of the world in peril—especially those pretty hardwood trees.—Nikki Weed