My Life in a Nutshell [Part 1]

Ok. Brace yourself, because this is going to be long if youre bored, you can read this story, or if you just want to know more about me. I wrote this about 2 years ago…

It was an early morning in January of 1991, and the sky was barely lighting the sky with a dim orange. The birds were beginning to chirp quietly outside as the dew started to lift up off of the grass. My soon to be mother and father were sound asleep in their cozy home.


My mother had woken up that morning to prepare my fathers breakfast before he left for work. It was Wednesday the 30th. Soon, my mother yelled for my father to come into the kitchen. “Its time,” she said. “What right now?!” he asked shocked.

Before anyone could say anything else, my father and mother were speeding to get to Torrance Memorial Hospital. They rushed through the emergency waiting room doors and went to the clerk. “My wife is having a baby!” my father told her. “Let me call your doctor. What is his name?” she asked. “Bugelmans. Dr. Bugelmans,” my mom told her. She picked up the phone and spoke briefly with the doctor. “He’ll be right here,” she told them.

Im here,” the doctor yelled while trotting down the hall. He came up to them. “Unfortunately,  youre going to have to have the baby at another hospital, because this one is full. Ill call another hospital to see if they have room.” He quickly picked up the phone, and dialed a number. “Okay,” he told my parents. “Were going to bring her to Inglewood Memorial by ambulance.” “WHAT!!!???” my dad shouted. “She was supposed to have him here!”

So anyway, I was born in Inglewood, and thats how. Now you know. At least, Im sure that these are my parents because there is no way there was a mix up. I was the only white baby in the entire hospital. I was gangster from the start.  See? Just kidding.

So from there on for the next year, I gave my parents hell. I peed on my dad when he was changing my diaper, and I overturned a bowl of Gerber mush on my mom. Yes, I was a brat. But thats okay, it will happen to me one day in the never ending cycle of life.

1992 was when it really started to happen. Cars I mean. My parents decided to take me to the land of monsters. There were very loud, big, fast monsters. But I didnt get it, they were on a lake, but the lake was dry I later learned that these monsters were cars like the Pierce Brothers 2D 1934 Ford zooming down El Mirage. That was the beginning of my addiction. That stuff was scary though. You know when youre 1 years old, sound is freakin magnified in your little ears damned parents did it on purpose to make me cry.

I eventually grew up with professional Moto GP riders like Jean-Michel Bayle, Max Biaggi, and Jean-Philippe Ruggia. They were with me 24/7. Thats what my life was like as a kid. I didnt even realize who they were. Damn. Now 2 of them dont even ride anymore. Oh well, I still stay in touch with them. Actaully, Jean-Michel was the first person to make me hold an object. Pretty cool, huh?

Life was great! Until I turned 4, or course, and the misery of my life came true. My parents gave me a brother. Soon, attention went away from me, and more to him. They still gave me attention, dont get me wrong, but less than before. That was the worst day of my entire 4 years of life.

Anyway, when I was about 5, I was at Torrance Airport to watch the B-52s take off for armed forces day, and something caught my eye on the parking lot. My parents drove me over there to take a look. There was a kid that was about my age, and his dad. They were racing this small, cool car on the parking lot around a bunch of cones in the shape of an oval. I later learned that it was a quarter-midget race car. The dad walked over to me and asked me if I wanted to try driving it. The hell I did!!! I strapped myself in with the Simpson belts and put on the white helmet. I flipped the ignition switch, and the beast inside roared to life. I gassed it down the parking lot, and began to take the turn, with out braking (who needs brakes? It only slows you down). Of course I spun out. But that wasnt the best part. I floored it immediately after, and I burned out. I feel sorry for the guys tires, but hey, I had fun!

Drifting came naturally for me as well. At the same age (if not younger), my parents had bought me a bulldozer. It was like a Tonka toy peddle bulldozer. It was pretty nifty too. Its best feature, was the brake. It was identical to a hand brake you would see in a 240sx, except it didnt have cables or hydraulics. It was simply a single piece of metal, then when you pulled on it, it rubbed on the rear wheels and locked them up. Now we were talking. I screwed around with it as a normal dozer first, but eventually grew tired of it. So I took it to my dads work, where there was a big parking lot.

It was wide open, and perfect to build up speed. So I did When I had reached my top peddling speed, and yanked on that E-brake and turned the wheel like there was no tomorrow. Id drift a little, then spin out of control. See, thats how a lttle kid like me gets his high haha

Well, thats enough for part 1. I think Ill do 5 years in a part, that way it will be even writing. I hope you enjoyed that piece!

626Drift TopGun Showdown

So I competed in the 626Drift TopGun Showdown on December 6th, 2008. There were major sponsors there, such as D-MAX USA (who is already sponsoring the team), Blitz USA, Discount Tire Center, Clutch Kits.net, and Sonic Motor. 

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A lot of tension could be felt in the pits that day.  The driver’s meeting was interesting. Quoc Ly and Justin Pawlak were there to judge the competition that day. 
I’ve competed in 626Drift Competitions before, but they were small “in-house” contests. This was the real deal. Drivers from Las Vegas, San Diego, and Los Angeles were here to compete for a real cash prize and some sponsorships. The friendly vibe amongst drivers seemed to have disappeared. 
8am was time for practice. It was my first time on the track with my car in quite a while. Before, I had stayed off because of the lack of power steering, a decent running motor, and a good alignment. I finally had a somewhat drivable car, and these practice runs would be my first test runs with the new set-up. I could tell the car wasn’t reacting consistently to certain things, but it would have to work.
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As luck would have it, within the first ten runs I bent a tie rod. That would conclude practice for the day. Sweet. My chances of qualifying for Top 16 had just been reduced by a longshot. There were some amazing drivers I would have to go up against, such as Mike Essa, Jeff Jones, Mark Fernandez, John Chow. I did what I could to get a new tie rod on the car before qualifying was up.
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As I changed my tie rod, I watched the first cars qualify. I was on a very limited amount of time to get this stupid car back on the track. Bernard from D-MAX came to help me with the operation, as well as the on-the-spot alignment. 
I got the car back on the track in time to be the last car to attempt at qualifying. I would have to trust my shitty alignment to get me to the next round. First run, I came in 3rd gear to the first clipping point, kicked the clutch, spun in the transition to the ring. Sweet. Second run looked good. At least, I thought so until I spun. Again. I was beginning to think it would be over before it began. Thankfully, I did a nice, clean run on my third attempt.
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If you look at my bumper, you can see where I clipped one of the clipping points very nicely.
Onto the second driver’s meeting. Announcing the qualified. “No way in hell I made it in,” I told Cody Sarem, my fellow teammate. “Me niether,” he replied. We stood attentively around Jackson and the billboard which would hold our fate: who qualified, and who didn’t. It would also show, for those who qualified, who would go up against who.
Jackson revealed the board. Everyone scanned it as if it were the roster for the high school football team, showing who had made the team and who hadn’t made the cut. I frantically looked for my name. 1st? Of course not, keep scrolling. 7th, no. 11th, no. 13th, no. 14th was Cody. Good job, Buddy. I thought I hadn’t made it, until I spotted my name, under 16. I had qualified! Sure, it may have been last place, but holy hell, I made it! I would get an opportunity. Who was I paired with? Mike Porter, also known as “Mike FC”.
Time for practice again. We would get a 2-hour practice session before the Top 16 battles. During this time would also be lunch, but forget that, I needed to get used to my car before throwing myself sideways door-to-door with another car. I was able to compensate for the car’s will to grip hard during a left-hand drift, while wanting to spin very easily during a right-hand drift. By flooring it in 3rd during initiation, then early downshifting into 2nd, I could maintain fair angle into the first corner. I would then have to slam on the brakes right before the transition into the ring. Since the first corner had been elongated, it was a much faster entry, which meant locking up the brakes to slow myself down enough…
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During the last quarter of practice, I was coming into the first corner, transitioned, then spun. Little did I know, my good friend Nieko Gunther was following closely behind in his white S13 coupe. He slammed hard into my front end with his door. It was a sight which would bring attention to every spectator watching. Glass was on the track, and my paint was on his door. Let’s see the damage.
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No time for lunch, time to bring on the hammers and start bashing the living (or non-living) crap out of some metal! We ripped off the headlights, but most of the grill and passenger headlight was wedged in-between the bumper support and radiator support. Oh well, time to stage for Top 16!
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It finally came time to run in Top 16! I was running against Mike Porter, driving a 13b turbo FC3S RX-7. He pulled hard on me in the straight, but I managed to stay somewhat close. Unfortunately, I spun in both runs, and lost to him right then and there.
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Final standings:
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Welcome, I guess.

So…


I’m making a blog. Don’t ask me why, I won’t have an answer for you, other than, “I’m really bored, and have too much time on my wrists (who wears watches on their hands anyways, honestly?). 

I live a simple life. Stress is bad. Relaxation is good. I never stress over anything; or almost anything. People seem to lead lives that are “more than they can chew.” Everyday, I’ll hear about a friend who is having trouble juggling their AP Biology class, the academic decathlon, being Key Club president, and studying for SATs. What ever happened to enjoying life? I guess in this day and age, it’s against the law of life. I guess I’m going to jail, because I refuse to live a life like that.

My life is cars and friends. I drift. Not because it’s the cool thing to do. Not because I saw it in a movie. Not because I can use to show off to girls. Nope. I drift for the pleasure of being free. Dominic Torretto once said, “I live my life a quarter mile at a time. For those ten seconds or less, I’m free.” Well these words are indeed very true.  

Don’t let this fool you into thinking I’m some bum hippie-do who just dicks around in school and doesn’t give a damn about life. I do my work in school. Sometimes. The point is, I am going wherever my life decides to take me. Working is not a sin. I will work to get to where I go, but I will work smarter, not harder. Life is too short to waste it away trying to make a good salary. People think, “Well, I’ll spend half of my life in Med School, and retire by the time I’m 50.” Oh yeah? Well sorry to break it to you, but by the time you’re that age, your back is already aching, your hair is falling out, and death is right around the corner. In the meantime, I’ve enjoyed my life. You have your money, I have my happiness.