If you wouldn’t date yourself…
Don’t even think about dating me. Seriously. Just don’t.
This public service announcement is brought to you by the people who don’t expect others to be better than they expect from themselves department of labor and statistics on better living, etc.
When I go by the entrance I downshift into second. The front wheel taps the pavement gently as I lean into the acceleration. The longer I stay on the throttle the lighter I become, moving through space. The landscape moves by and by the time third gear comes the pulsing roar fills my ears and I’m sure you can hear it through your windows. I click up, revs drop, gas on and again the sound climbs to deafening staccato. My only connection a one way message. Asynchronous communication to you. I am lost in the blur tucked behind a tiny piece of plexiglass. 4th gear, 145 down the hill, the cars go by as if they are parked. I am moving for you. I am lost in this blur. Braking now and downshifting, my song, backfiring, third, second, roaring pain to you. Hear my cry.
Yep. Still hear it.