The best I could tell, the two lane road stretched for miles behind me. I had lost track of the time, as I often do, driving with my windows down, hair blowing in the wind, thick sub-bass pounding my feet at every possible moment. The road had been, for the most part, empty, save for the odd truck that I would switch to the left lane to pass, or the small car going the speed limit, when everyone – and their mother – knew that this road was really a 65.
There was a quick blue car that I had passed a few miles back that had tried to catch up to me. At first, I thought it was a cop trying to pull me over, but after a minute with no sirens I wised up and hit the gas a little harder, speeding even with the well known adjusted speed limit in place. I could outpace any of the cars, if I so desired – not because my car was any faster, but because I lacked the fear that the other drivers had. I was not afraid of being pulled, I was not afraid of breaking the law.
Every road ends at the same point.
I used to think everyone was different. And to be sure, we all are, to some degree – we are all just objects moving through space, through the man made construct of time, and we all meet the same inevitable end. I haven’t met a single person who has eluded death. Years of being a logical man has lead me to believe that people don’t escape death. You can try to cheat him, sure, but why cheat the reaper? I think he’d wise up. I don’t think any trick you had could be a trick he hasn’t seen a thousand times before by a thousand individuals thinking they were being creative.
In my rampant musing, I failed to notice the blue car catching back up to me, dodging a white Chevy to get directly behind me. I could hear the purr of the motor behind me even with my music turned up to an ungodly level. I couldn’t even see their front tires, that was how close they were behind me. I tensed up, afraid that they were going to give me a kiss, but they didn’t even act aggressively. The driver very calmly put his blinker on – bumper inches from mine for a good thirty seconds – and checked the mirrors a few times before pulling into the left lane.
The other car pulled up beside me, keeping neck and neck, making no effort to speed up. I glanced over – they, too, had their windows down. The driver looked somewhat familiar – a young woman, my age. Her face was recognizable, to me, at least. She looked similar to someone I had been in the fifth grade with, a one time girlfriend for a week before she found something better, but I couldn’t be sure.
She stepped on the gas, her long yellow hair whipping in the wind, and tried to pull ahead of me. I stepped on my gas, refusing her, until we were both careening dangerously down the road at 80 miles per hour. She glanced over at me, her eyes burning with anger, and she called something out. I couldn’t make out her voice over the noise of the wind or the music or the hums of the motors or the vacuum created when we passed trees and obsolete speed limit signs. The blue car glinted in the sun, the bright reflection changing position as she stepped on the gas again.
I had no idea how fast her car could go, but I was willing to give it a run for its money. I slammed on my gas, pulling up next to her again before she could cut me off. She had put her turn signal on and everything – a law abider when it mattered. Maybe she was just trying to warn me, trying to make me back off so that I would survive the day unscathed. She seemed conscionable, if not angry.
The road began to curve as my car settled next to hers – now pushing 90, 91. I smiled and offered a wink, to which she replied by stepping on the gas again. Her motor didn’t seem to be struggling, as mine did. My car had begun to wobble uncertain on its wheels, and for a split second, I considered stepping off the gas, letting her pull ahead, letting her win just this once.
My mind got the better of me. I pushed the gas, sending my car hurtling forward – now, not just trying to keep pace, but trying to outpace her. I pulled up next to her for an instant and glanced over, the same anger burning in her eyes, but now tinged with sadness. I thought little of it, and passed her, my car pushing 100, 105, 107, 108... And her car kept right up with no visible signs of trauma. This time, she made no attempt to pass.
I looked over at her, and her eyes were no longer on the road. Her eyes were fixated, straight at me. They no longer burned with anger, but rather, desperation. She was trying to speak to me, but it was a lost cause. I could not mistake the hurt in her eyes for anything other than pleading – please stop, please slow down, you don’t know where you’re going, but I do.
It was no longer a game. I stared at her, my eyes losing track of the road, my speed, the music, the sound and fury of the wind rushing around me.
Please, stop.
And I did. I let off the gas, and gently applied my brake. She maintained the same speed, in the lower hundreds, as my car began to drift back down.
90.
80.
70.
But I wouldn’t stop there. Her eyes, they had spoken to me, conveyed a message that words would never get across.
60.
50.
45.
I hovered at this speed – it seemed so slow now, so pedestrian. I watched as her car rounded a curve and disappeared beyond the horizon.
In the span of a few minutes, several other cars I had passed were now passing me. My hands were gripped on the wheel. I refused to break 45, even if there were a bear of some kind chasing me. I had been rattled, and by what? A girl I might have known twenty years ago in a blue car?
The lanes merged into one lane, and the traffic became horribly congested. It was unusual to have any kind of traffic backup on this road.
And then I saw the accident.
The small blue car, completely engulfed in flames as firemen stood by. It looked like they had tried, but were now waiting for it to burn out a little more before giving it their all again. An ambulance was pulled to the side, the back doors wide open. They hadn’t been able to pull anyone from the wreckage yet.
I shuddered as I drove past, remembering her eyes, her pleading, blue eyes that had asked me, begged me.
Wherever she had been heading, she arrived before I did.
My hands gripped the wheel.
Please, stop.
There was a quick blue car that I had passed a few miles back that had tried to catch up to me. At first, I thought it was a cop trying to pull me over, but after a minute with no sirens I wised up and hit the gas a little harder, speeding even with the well known adjusted speed limit in place. I could outpace any of the cars, if I so desired – not because my car was any faster, but because I lacked the fear that the other drivers had. I was not afraid of being pulled, I was not afraid of breaking the law.
Every road ends at the same point.
I used to think everyone was different. And to be sure, we all are, to some degree – we are all just objects moving through space, through the man made construct of time, and we all meet the same inevitable end. I haven’t met a single person who has eluded death. Years of being a logical man has lead me to believe that people don’t escape death. You can try to cheat him, sure, but why cheat the reaper? I think he’d wise up. I don’t think any trick you had could be a trick he hasn’t seen a thousand times before by a thousand individuals thinking they were being creative.
In my rampant musing, I failed to notice the blue car catching back up to me, dodging a white Chevy to get directly behind me. I could hear the purr of the motor behind me even with my music turned up to an ungodly level. I couldn’t even see their front tires, that was how close they were behind me. I tensed up, afraid that they were going to give me a kiss, but they didn’t even act aggressively. The driver very calmly put his blinker on – bumper inches from mine for a good thirty seconds – and checked the mirrors a few times before pulling into the left lane.
The other car pulled up beside me, keeping neck and neck, making no effort to speed up. I glanced over – they, too, had their windows down. The driver looked somewhat familiar – a young woman, my age. Her face was recognizable, to me, at least. She looked similar to someone I had been in the fifth grade with, a one time girlfriend for a week before she found something better, but I couldn’t be sure.
She stepped on the gas, her long yellow hair whipping in the wind, and tried to pull ahead of me. I stepped on my gas, refusing her, until we were both careening dangerously down the road at 80 miles per hour. She glanced over at me, her eyes burning with anger, and she called something out. I couldn’t make out her voice over the noise of the wind or the music or the hums of the motors or the vacuum created when we passed trees and obsolete speed limit signs. The blue car glinted in the sun, the bright reflection changing position as she stepped on the gas again.
I had no idea how fast her car could go, but I was willing to give it a run for its money. I slammed on my gas, pulling up next to her again before she could cut me off. She had put her turn signal on and everything – a law abider when it mattered. Maybe she was just trying to warn me, trying to make me back off so that I would survive the day unscathed. She seemed conscionable, if not angry.
The road began to curve as my car settled next to hers – now pushing 90, 91. I smiled and offered a wink, to which she replied by stepping on the gas again. Her motor didn’t seem to be struggling, as mine did. My car had begun to wobble uncertain on its wheels, and for a split second, I considered stepping off the gas, letting her pull ahead, letting her win just this once.
My mind got the better of me. I pushed the gas, sending my car hurtling forward – now, not just trying to keep pace, but trying to outpace her. I pulled up next to her for an instant and glanced over, the same anger burning in her eyes, but now tinged with sadness. I thought little of it, and passed her, my car pushing 100, 105, 107, 108... And her car kept right up with no visible signs of trauma. This time, she made no attempt to pass.
I looked over at her, and her eyes were no longer on the road. Her eyes were fixated, straight at me. They no longer burned with anger, but rather, desperation. She was trying to speak to me, but it was a lost cause. I could not mistake the hurt in her eyes for anything other than pleading – please stop, please slow down, you don’t know where you’re going, but I do.
It was no longer a game. I stared at her, my eyes losing track of the road, my speed, the music, the sound and fury of the wind rushing around me.
Please, stop.
And I did. I let off the gas, and gently applied my brake. She maintained the same speed, in the lower hundreds, as my car began to drift back down.
90.
80.
70.
But I wouldn’t stop there. Her eyes, they had spoken to me, conveyed a message that words would never get across.
60.
50.
45.
I hovered at this speed – it seemed so slow now, so pedestrian. I watched as her car rounded a curve and disappeared beyond the horizon.
In the span of a few minutes, several other cars I had passed were now passing me. My hands were gripped on the wheel. I refused to break 45, even if there were a bear of some kind chasing me. I had been rattled, and by what? A girl I might have known twenty years ago in a blue car?
The lanes merged into one lane, and the traffic became horribly congested. It was unusual to have any kind of traffic backup on this road.
And then I saw the accident.
The small blue car, completely engulfed in flames as firemen stood by. It looked like they had tried, but were now waiting for it to burn out a little more before giving it their all again. An ambulance was pulled to the side, the back doors wide open. They hadn’t been able to pull anyone from the wreckage yet.
I shuddered as I drove past, remembering her eyes, her pleading, blue eyes that had asked me, begged me.
Wherever she had been heading, she arrived before I did.
My hands gripped the wheel.
Please, stop.
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