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Metaliturtle
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University of Wisconsin Stevens Point
Mar 2002
time: 23:26
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Speed
It rushes into your veins, an accompanyment to your adrenaline
It gives you power, it gets you high.
Speed is not a drug, it's an addiction.
I watch the races on the weekends, I root for my friend, he loses only out of pity, and even then, only in the final match.
His car is black, his car oozes speed.
Behind the wheel, you don't feel like you can kick as$, you know that soon you will.
In a car to the left, you look over, and you get the same adrenaline rush, although not from speed, from fear.
A lone beauty dances on the center line, Kevin's girlfriend, Goober's girlfriend. She had promised him something new for a win, a forbidden fruit that is only partially revealed through rumors and speculation. Her countenance was upbeat, this was not her first time in this position. She knew that Kevin NEVER lost a race when she started it.
I looked at the other guy again, he was too new to the scene to have any merit among us regulars, he just showed up blasting Jay-Z or some other rap sh*t none of us listen to, and Kevin was more than happy to put this rap lovin' white boy in his place.
The dance ended, as it always does, with the elegant yet purposeful drop of the scarf. It was not light and feathery like TV would lead you to believe, it was 20 degrees out, and half-naked women need all the protection they can get. The thick wollen garment was on the icy pavement.
We all turned and watched, as we had always watched before, the race through the pine straightaway. This road was always abandoned, whether that was good or bad, remains to be said.
Soon the newcomer's tailpipe was belching fire like a beast from hell, and kevin was maxed out. That was when the beast made his fiendish move, a slight nudge was all it took, and kevin was motionless, behind a rapidly deflating bag of gas, in a metallic cage that nobody could reasonably prize.
I took off after the guy in a nearby racer that was left running, I didn't care if it was grand theft auto, this dipsh*t would pay for what he'd done.
I fired off after him, took down his liscense, and returned to the scene.
The spotlight, that meant Jaws of Life, that meant that he was still saveable. An ambulance drove up, flashing lights envoking another adrenaline surge, this one, a conglomeration of fight and flight. I wanted Kevin to fight, but at the same time I had an urge to run home and cry. Instead, I put his girlfriend in my Jeep, and drove her home. We both broke the news to her parents, and she was promptly grounded. I headed over to Kevin's house.
I was greeted by David, his little brother, "Mommy and Daddy rushed out in their jammies"
"C'mon, we need to go somewhere fun"
I called Kev's cell in the hopes of getting his status, I just got his mother, sobbing uncontrolably.
"This is Mark, I've got David, I won't tell him, I'm taking him for pizza, my treat. Call my cell when there's some information."
I hung up midway through the tear-choked thank you. My best friend was at the brink of death, I stared it nearly in the face, and here I was, eating pizza with an oblivious kid 1/3 my age. But it seemed unreal, and after pizza I took David to my house and hooked him up with an old disney tape and a ninja turtles sleeping bag.
"This is my first grown up sleep over"
"Mine too kid, try to get some sleep"
I then went and explained the situation to my father, who told me to call 911 and report what I had seen to the police. They had me come down to the station.
I returned once more to my house, and fell asleep in the recliner, when I woke up, I was in my room, and it was two days later, I thought it was a bad dream, so I stupidly called Kevin's house and asked if he was around.
"Do you think you're funny or something?.. Wait, Mark? Are you okay sweetie?"
"I had a weird dream that kevin got hurt in a car accident, a bad one."
"He did sweetie, thanks for taking care of David for us."
"Anytime, he's so well behaved when he's confused."
She managed a slight chuckle for me before she hung up the phone.
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This was so I could get some stuff off of my chest, Goober was hurt during a street race, and most of this stuff is as happened, or at least as I remember it. Obviously this doesn't qualify for the story contest, but please critique it, harshly, I want to give this to goober, and I want it to be appropriate. Anything you feel slightly bothered by, please address, it will only make it that much better, and of course, I'll tell him you guys are rooting for him when I visit him next week.
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19-02-2003 11:11
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