If you have been anywhere near the sailing world (or a TV for that matter) in the last year or so you are well aware of the debate that raged over young people setting out to sail around the world. If I recall the score correctly two made it, one sunk and was rescued, and one is on her way.
Sunday morning at the Indianapolis Mootor Speedway a racer was killed when he crashed during the warm up lap to his race, a USGPRU sanctioned event that is a training ground for young racers on the rise. He was 13. I am sure a similar argument is about to break out and, since this young man died, the debate may actually last longer than one news cycle. (That is as long as Ms. Obama doesn't do something earth shattering like change her hairstyle or a similar, and equally inane, event doesn't happen that the world's media can howl into a major crisis.)
I started flying when I was 15 and first flew off by myself within a few days of my 16th birthday. (That being the minimum age the FAA allows for solo flight in a powered aircraft.) A large proportion of the best pilots I have known would tell a similar story. They started very young; it is their way of life. Other people (and I'm jealous if you are one of them) starting sailing long before they could drive or fly. They too can tell stories of a way of life, of friends lost.
From the very start I was determined to master the art of flying, to be as good at it as was within my reach. It was an arena where I was challenged to learn skills not easy to learn, to master knowledge not easy to master, and to face up to the fact that the sky was completely neutral as to the outcome of my efforts. I could succeed or I could fail. I could live a long life of adventure or, with a bit of bad luck tossed into a pot of poor decision making, lack of skill or lack of knowledge, die early and violently. I'm sure my parents thought about that but they kept their concerns to themselves and let me go my way. More than anything else I could come face to face with my fear. There was no way to master the sky until I mastered myself. That's a pretty serious lesson for anyone, let alone a 16 year old kid.
But (and here is the thing that strikes me) it was real fear to be faced because the risks were real as well. No video game with a "reset" button, no redundant safety harness hooked up 3 different ways; real risk, real effort, real outcome. At 13 years old Peter Lenz was so good that he was invited to race at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and he had the courage to try. He looked down that front straight, pinned the throttle and took off...but he tumbled off his bike and got hit by another rider. And lest you think that was a lack of skill on his part; over the weekend the current MotoGP world title holder pitched his machine down the road three times, the 2007 title holder did it twice, and the 2006 holder as well as the guy starting from the pole bounced off the tarmac once each. These are arguably the best motorcycle racers in the world. (And they all started racing before they were teens.)
I never heard of Peter Lenz before yesterday but you know what, I think I'm going to miss him. At 13 years old he was well on his way to mastering the art of motorcycle racing, and of living. Even if they never know it, the world is going to miss him as well.
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