See the setting, a group of chairs in a circle and the facilitator with a clip board taking notes as his Marlboro smolders in his nicotine stained fingers. I stand, ashamed with my head hung low and admit "I'm Bill, and I'm a closet road racer." There, I said it. I can't hide it any longer. My wife and children would catch me from time to time. Is that wheel turned to the right? "NO, NO, I'm just spinning out and trying to catch the car." Yes, I thought I had kicked the habit. I went as far as selling all my RC Sims. But slowly and secretly found myself at the alter of Amazon and Best Buy. A few laps won't hurt anyone. So there! I said it. It's out. The North Idaho Hillbilly rubbing elbows with the elite wine and cheese eating poofy pants riding crop carrying road racers. I can hide my shame no longer. So If you see this old man winding his way through the chicane of some euro RC track cut him some slack. He might be addicted but he ain't no good at it.