1997 Honda CBR1100XX

Automobile Racing, one of the most popular sports in the world, have races run with wide coverage on television - before millions of fans. It tests the skills of the drivers, the speed capabilities of the vehicles, and the endurance of both.

The first racing cars were motorized versions of horse-drawn carriages and wagons. The first race was a reliability demonstration from Chicago to Waukegan, Illinois, in November 1895, while the first American oval-track race, held at the Rhode Island State Fairgrounds in Cranston in 1896, was won at an average speed of 43.1 km/h. Racing in the United States became popular two years later, with the opening of 4-km brick-surfaced Indianapolis Motor Speedway in Indianapolis, Indiana.

The sport has high risks of injuries and death. The reason of this is that the drivers of motor racing like to be on the edge on every corner on every lap so if something goes wrong even though a small thing then that would be your life. The safety in the olden days weren’t very good either. They had an open cockpit, no seat belts, No suits and the helmet wasn’t mandatory. Even if the driver wore a helmet it wasn’t very protective. The cars were also heavy compared to the human weight and as a result could crush the driver if he went straight into a wall. To make it even worse the fuel line may cut and the fire will start burning. The first ever crash recorded was in the year 1919. As a result to this lack of safety there were a lot of tragedies in the racing history. There were more than 35 fatalities from 1953 until today in formula 1 only, some more gruesome than the others. And a lot had occurred at the same time as the crash has happened. The most deadly crash has occurred not in formula 1 but in the Le Mans 24 hour race in 1955.

Thursday, October 31st. The city streets are crowded for the holiday. Even with the rain. Hidden in the chaos is the element, waiting to strike like snakes. And I'm there too. Watching. 2 years of nights have turned me into a nocturnal animal. I must choose my targets carefully. It's a big city. I can't be everywhere. But they don't know where I am. We have a signal now, for when I'm needed. When that light hits the sky, it's not just a call- it's a warning. To them. Fear is a tool. They think I'm hiding in the shadows. But I AM the shadows. I wish I could say I'm making a difference, but I don't know. Murder, robberies, assault- 2 years later, they're all up. And now this. This city's eating itself. Maybe it can't be saved, but i have to try. PUSH MYSELF. These nights all roll together in a rush, Behind the mask. Sometimes in the morning i have to force myself to remember everything that happened.

I live in the American Gardens Building on West 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I’m 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I’ll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial masque which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion. There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman. Some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me. Only an entity. Something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.
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