Checked Out

The dark sky above me, painted by a billion stars, is the only solid right now as streetlights and pavement whip by. My foot, covered in a black shoe made of canvas and rubber, has been planted down into the throttle for as long as I can remember. This moment is a lifetime in my mind, I do not know how fast I am going, but I can hear the engine humming loud, the exhaust no longer cracks as I have ran out of gears.

I am here, this machine and I, five thousand pounds of iron running down a road full of potholes and memories. It’s the kiss off cold steel on your fingertips, the broken heart that keeps putting you back in that seat, that’s how I got here. The smell of old fluids and burnt tires, that touch of the peddle that sends you off, somewhere else, somewhere dangerous and freeing.

The lights on the street fly by faster now, a haze in my eyes, as the fog gathers over the pavement, thick and impeding, my lights dim. My foot pushes harder yet, as I grip the steering wheel, leaving the little nail prints in it one might have done to their father or mother as a child, but nothing happens. There is nothing left, the steam left my soul years ago, this iron casket is where it ends.

The hum of the rubber, planted down loosely on this dusty, weathered road, keeps me coherent. I listen to it as one would listen to the last beeps of a monitor as they lay dying in a white bed. I hear it occasionally scraping and jumping across this road, I do not care though, I keep my foot planted deep under the dash. The rivets rattle, and I feel the hot exhaust under my feet, it is warm when everything outside is so cold.

It’s all going now, so fast I cannot keep up, so fast my eyes cannot track what Is happening around me. It is bright light and fog, the roar of the engine, followed by the quiet of the night. I will let off the throttle, one night, if I make it through this one, this night.

Nobody has ever tried to stop me, I have plenty that care, but I care about them more. Everything is fine as I jam the peddle in so hard something breaks, deep down there’s a light clunk, something is broken. The engines roars load as it tries to grab onto the pavement underneath us, but nothing happens.

The wheels pound against the rough road as I find myself in a freefall, I cannot steer, I cannot brake. The foggy road envelopes me, takes me into its embrace as I talk to God for the first time in a decade.

There is a beautiful sound to rubber coming to a stop, smoking hot, the stench of a rough hard ride that settles you. One drives home slow afterwards, they appreciate the squirrel in the road, the deer in the field, the friend they picked up, and most importantly that first ray of sunshine they catch. Over that hill with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth, enough adrenaline to fuel an army in your veins, and addict shakes.

One looks back at the machine and wants more, they want to get back behind that wheel and show the world what they area made of no matter the cost. It is important to push the pedal down and show the world what you can do.

Just remember to step on the brakes form time to time.