I found myself cruising on the expressway towards Gunma the weekend before my big trip to Osaka, every now and then I would catch my face in the rear-view mirror. Although I wanted to lock myself in my room until my appearance was somewhat normal, I might not be able to hang out with my friends for a couple of months if admitted to the hospital so I wanted to show them how much they meant to me. As I got off the freeway, I heard the rumble of a boxer engine and a gunmetal version five Impreza WRX STI. The lowered silver sedan slowed down a little as Ron sent a friendly wave. I’d been to Ron’s house so many times I could drive there without using maps, but it was nice to have that certainty of not getting lost.
Ron’s house was a large Japanese style home 30 minutes away from one of the reasons I came to Japan. Mount Akagi loomed in the background, Haruna was only an hour in the opposite direction. Those mountains held a special place in my heart, when I was fifteen(more than ten years ago yikes!!) those tall peaks were a guiding landmark in the journey that was my life. But much like life getting to the peaks wasn’t important to me, it was traveling up and down the mountain passes or 峠(touge) that I lived for. Life is about the journey, right?
Why Gunma?
For most people who come to Japan Gunma isn’t on their top list of priorities to visit, for the small percentage of those who have Gunma on their list they usually come to see the landmark Kusatsu Onsen. I remember telling the Japanese friends I had made in college “I want to go to Gunma” only to be met with questions on why.
“Gunma is nothing but farmland” – Japanese Friend
Most people coming to Japan would rather have the fast exciting experience of being in large cities like Kyoto, Osaka, or Tokyo over the 田舎(Inaka-Japanese Countryside). For fans of the Manga/Anime series Initial D, it’s our Mecca. Initial D is about the very real car culture that surrounded places like 群馬(Gunma)、長野(Nagano)、埼玉(Saitama)、(Yamanashi)山梨 in the late 80s and early 90s. People of all ages would go to the mountain passes where races would be held and the spectacle of drifting has its roots. Here you won’t find Ferraris, BMWs, Lambos, or Porsches, but people driving modestly priced Japanese Domestic Motors(JDM). What how else to entertain yourself in the Japanese equivalent of Montana?
He’s Like My Uncle
I first met Ron on something called “The Initial D Tour” not having a car at the time I showed up to the event wanting to tag along with someone. You get to know someone during a ten-hour road trip, we’ve been friends ever since. Ron was a 6’2” American from California, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was an ex-marine by the way he calmly carried himself. In his forties, he had lived in Japan for half of his life and was married with three kids. He greeted me with a big smile and we picked up right where we left off last time. We talked about everything from cars, music, to hiking; sometimes I’d ask him for advice, he was like an uncle to me even helping me work on my car from time to time. Before I had known it several hours had passed and Ron had fed me lunch, made me coffee, and made his home a second home to me.
The sound of a loud exhaust shook the house signaling the arrival of our third friend, it was time to go out and play. Our little group of sports cars zipped around the quiet village. Going around Gunma with Ron was always a pleasure, a local, he knew all of the best roads, coffee shops, bars, and restaurants. We made it to a small mountain road that was largely abandoned due to the bypass they had built, snow blanketed the narrow path, but our three rally cars with snow tires existed for roads such as this.
Letting Go
My feet moved the three pedals in a synchronized dance while my arms balanced steering and shifting gears. The curves around me had bred race drivers before, techniques such as heel-toe downshifting, left-foot braking, and weight transfer were suited for the twisty bends in slippery conditions. I guided the car through slides on the edge of drift and grip as all my senses absorbed the magical moment. The engine became my heart, the sounds of turbo and exhaust became my breath, my being was expanded to the machine I sat in. I lost myself to the flow of the road, in life and in performance driving sometimes we needed to learn how to let go.
We pulled over to a parking lot in front of several abandoned businesses where we did some doughnuts before parking next to each other. Despite the cold temperatures we got out of our cars, snapped some photos, and began talking.
Why I Keep You Around
“Hey Ron. . . thanks for inviting me to hang out despite my skin and everything.” I said sheepishly. . . it was hard to keep eye contact while saying something that embarrassing. He chuckled a little before he spoke.
“Well I don’t keep you around because of your looks, I like being around you friend” we both laughed a little after hearing that.
“You could have fooled me.” I said with a big grin on my face. It was the only time I thought of my skin since meeting Ron that day.
