Member-only story
In writing the following I in no way condone irresponsobe driving. I wrote this after viewing the image of a sport car.
Ohh, that grill, rev baby rev, pull on that throttle, vroom, vroom — listen to the revs screaming — screech — the tyres burn, the smoke-bellowing, watch the smoke trialling in its wake. The red stripes make you feel alive — you are contemplating the rear slide, careering in and out of the lanes.* Come alive, come feel alive. Rev baby, get high on the noise, obtain from the high octane, fuel injecting your brains, listening to the piston screaming, the valves, the smooth movements in the sump. The tyres screeching, kiss, kiss, bang, bang, good night, and thank you!
…Never miss a heartbeat. Watch me disappear on the horizon.
In the hunger, listen to the stomach growling. Pulverised in the rush that crushes, eat, baby, eat, eat the miles and watch time fly by.
Get sky high and watch the smile widen on your face. The bass is thumping; the saxophone sound is stabbing your brain. The guitar is wailing, wha, wha, screams. Consciousness is abseiling — as the seconds go by, we are moving into the distant horizon, accelerating at 3.6 seconds to 60 mph, get high baby on the nitric oxide, feel the pupil dilate as you get lost in the gates, opening wide, the scene becomes a haze. Don’t get fazed; just get lost in the dopamine rush, get lost in the Gs and feel the crush. Screech, the adrenaline rush tastes so sweet.
