Far removed from the town
As we approached I could see
A procession of car headlights
Illuminating either side of the four lane highway as we pulled over
And got out to observe.
High powered early eighties
Datsun laurels with boosted
Rb25det straight six motors
And the inevitable shredding of tires
For this is where tires go to die!
A driver clad in a ski mask
To evade identification in case
the cops show up
With a matching passenger they
Shatter the early morning silence
Of the desert 🌵
The acrid pungent aroma of burnt tires permeates every particle
and embeds itself into your flesh, eyes and lungs
The crowds of young men
Jump , cajole and encourage the flamboyant stunts of the drivers as more cars appear from the and begin a deadly mechanical ballet that is equal parts bravado,
Insanity and high octane adrenaline...
Accompanied by the morning sun bringing some heat into the abyss
As it's vivid light begins it's daily climb sizzling all occupants of Saudi Arabia
Styles vary as some cars spiral
Into a spin , flip into reverse jam it into first obliterating the tires
akin to a version of automotive
Bull fighting as drivers taunt the throng of people on each side and occasionally
spectators run in front of the cars as they pass
Spraying them with the shredded carcasses of tires which are being
Pounded and ripped to imminent destruction
The action continues as the drivers continue shredding and grinding the scarred asphalt with bare steel rims emitting showers of sparks
Some cars fly closer to the edge of life and death at what seems ludicrous speed flipping the tail end of their potent Japanese machinery
Perilously close to the crowd
As some spectators run alongside
And occasionally a car seems headed for the crowd in what could only be a bloodbath and the multitude leaps back from the road to avoid what would assuredly be sudden death
At one point six or seven cars simultaneously play out this surreal
Anarchy of machine and guts
No rules........
No procedure..........
No safety helmets safety belts
Nada
The sun emerges higher as the action progresses then finally without warning some members of the crowd head towards their cars and start to leave followed by the drift cars devoid of license plates disappearing into the desert villages where they came from
I can hear them going through the gears, blipping the throttle
Their only purpose to destroy tires
Later that day I leave my friends in Al Hasa to return to the city
to the capital with its endless speed cameras
barricaded roads, subway construction and maniacal traffic
A long stretch of isolated highway enthralls me with
vistas of an endless ocean of sand
herds of Camels gather in the distance
and wander onto the road
There is an effect of what I call the eternal when I view the desert
its silence and the indifferent shifting sands
that remove me from all other considerations
I accelerate again up to 120, 140, 160 kmh contemplating all I saw
about the machines and how their melody still reverberated in my head
and to what they are......the cars, drivers and watchers...
Their creative outlet
A way to feel alive
to participate in the manic
spectacle of what must be the most original, dangerous, exciting
and insane form of free- flow mechanical anarchy I have ever seen
The S drift