Reach For Your Dream

A Cobra waiting to be started at Killarney, Cape Town.

I love children. This much should be fairly obvious given the fact that I travelled halfway across the world to teach them. I feel the need to say it, however, just in case it wasn't obvious and you didn't know. I will say it again. I love children. I love looking at them, but most of all I love the good feeling that I get from helping them, whether it comes from helping them learn English or helping them across the road; helping entertain them or helping babysit them. What can I say – I just like helping people. This is why, on Sunday, when my dad mentioned that he was going to Killarney to help some children, I jumped at the opportunity to get involved.

There may be a number of questions that you are asking yourself right now.
What the hell, you might be asking for example, is Killarney?
There may even be Cape Townians asking this question. Killarney is a race track situated along Plattekloof road where you will find all sorts of races (classic cars, motorbikes, go-carts and more) on just about every weekend. Going to Killarney was one of my favourite pastimes as a kid as I would stand on the side of the track with an ice-cold Coke in my hands, listening to the engines roar, bouncing up and down and from foot to foot from excitement and nerves whenever there was a crash and trying to spot Dad's green and yellow in the blur of colour that was the cars drifting around the bends. This pastime fell by the wayside as shopping, movies and friends became more prominent and the roar of the engines started sounding like nothing more than noise. It has been years since I had been to Killarney, and I felt that it was about time that I returned. And what better reason could there be than helping the children?

This is where your next question may come in.
How does going to Killarney help children?
My answer to this one is short and simple. Reach for a Dream. Well, perhaps that's too short and simple for some. Reach for a Dream is a foundation that helps children with life-threatening diseases reach their dreams, whether that dream is owning your own computer, being a princess for a day or even, as was the case this time around, being a professional race car driver.

Now sure, the kids weren't allowed to drive the cars. That would be a little reckless and I am not sure that too many people would hand over their cars to the hands of children. Instead, the kids were brought to Killarney and were provided with a number of cars to ride in – from Dad's classic Lotus to a stylish Ferrari and about 20 others in between. But they don't mind someone else driving – they just have the need; the need for speed. One by one the kids lined up to get a chance to ride in the cars as the drivers were given strict instructions: Be careful; Don't drive too fast; No drifting; Yada-yada-yada. No one was really interested in the rules – everyone wanted to get out on the road and the kids could hardly stand still – their anticipation getting the better of them.

Car after car was brought forward as the stewards and assistants helped the kids into their helmets (another must) and into their cars of choice. Wide eyed, they sat as the cars sped towards the starting line and, with a seemingly obligatory revving of the engine and squeal of the wheels, made their way onto the track. Round and round they went with the onlookers leaning over the cement divide and practically falling onto the tracks themselves to see what was happening and who was coming around the corners. With each whoosh of a car passing by, the waiting children became more and more eager for their turn to come around. Each car that returned saw a face grinning from ear to ear and a child running out of the car to stand in line once again.

Boerie rolls, curry and rice; fruit juice and Coca-Cola; eyes glued to the track as cars overtake each other, cringing at how close they came to colliding; jumping as a car's engine revs unexpectedly or a tyre squeals in the distance; noses stinging at the smell of burning rubber, dropped oil and used petrol. Nothing like a race at Killarney to take me back to the good old days of no-cares living. Now if only I could have hopped into one of those cars too...