Saturday, November 26, 2016
Some Remain, Others Disappear hr582
Once a year in autumn, a road race of classic cars is held in Japan. The
race starts in Tokyo, runs through five prefectures in four days and
finishes back in Tokyo. It stops for the night at a certain checkpoint
during the long journey and one of the checkpoints is a hotel in a small
town where I live. On its way there, it passes through the desolate
main street of my town. I look forward to this event and go out to see
it every year. More than one hundred beautiful classic cars like Fiat,
Bugatti and Alfa Romeo, some of which are about ninety years old, run
past right in front of my eyes one after another on a narrow street
almost within my reach. I can also get to spot a few Japanese former
Formula One drivers and celebrities who participate in as proud owners
of the cars. The promoter hands out small flags for this event to
spectators along the street. They wave the flags to the cars and the
drivers wave back. This year, I left my apartment a little early for the
race to stroll around the main section of my town where I hardly visit.
When I shop or eat, I usually travel to the city far from my town that
is too small and forlorn to hang out. I walked around the center of the
town for the first time in a year and found it more desolate. A small
grocery store I have shopped for several times had been out of business.
A bookstore in front of the train station was closed along with a
restaurant across it. There was no sign of any new tenant at those
locations. More and more stores are gone, as a small population of my
town is getting even smaller every year. I sat on a bench at the best
spot to see the race along the main street that also had more shuttered
shops than before. I was waiting for the cars to come while looking
through a race brochure with a flag in my hand, both of which I’d gotten
at the town’s empty tourist information office. As it was about the
time the cars were scheduled to pass, I was prepared with my smartphone
camera. But not a single car appeared. I waited more and there were
still no cars. And I noticed there were no spectators either. I made
sure the date and the time in the brochure again, and they were correct.
Since an unpredictable incident can happen in the race and a delay
sometimes occurs, I waited patiently. No cars and no people showed up.
It was getting dark and cold. I went back to the info office and asked
about the race. The clerk said, “Hasn’t it come yet? It should be here, I
think.” Because she sounded she knew nothing about the race, I assured
that her info was false, which meant, the race shouldn’t be here. I must
have gotten the right time, but the wrong place. I left the main street
and hurried toward the checkpoint where the cars would eventually
arrive. On the way, I started smelling a strong odor of exhaust that
came from nothing but classic cars in these days. The race must have
been near. I hurried on, and finally saw a classic car turning the
intersection with an explosive engine noise at the bottom of a steep
slope toward the checkpoint. The race did come to my town but used a
different route. It had dropped down the main street as its route this
year and the info office didn’t know that. With only few spectators even
along the main street every year, the new route was outside the town
center and there were literally no spectators. I managed to see the last
one-third cars in the dark while I missed the most part of the race,
especially fast cars. Like this, my town is gradually declining with
fewer people, fewer shops and less information. I will watch the whole
race next year near the checkpoint not along the main street. Unless the
race excludes my town from the route altogether, that is…
Labels:
Alfa Romeo,
Aston Martin,
Bugatti,
car,
celebrity,
classic car,
F1,
Fiat,
grocery store,
information,
Japan,
La Festa Mille Miglia,
race,
restaurant,
road race,
small town,
Tokyo