The Fast Lane

Car. Gasoline. Blood. Rushing. Tingling. Speed. I need it. I want it. I'm dying for it. The desire overwhelms me. I'm having it again--that need for speed. I crave it. That need. That need... for speed.

I listen to my thoughts, weighing the options as I drive down the road. Half of me is programmed into leisure mode: doodling down the freeway, curving around the bends in the road, passively following others, passing when it's convenient, giving myself a wide berth around the other cars... but my other half is like a drug addict. It craves the wind. The whirling scenes spinning past me. The sound of the engine accelerating, changing gears.

This is an odd sensation that I've never felt before. I've never been a speed addict. For most of my life, I thought of myself as a pretty good driver. And a mellow driver at that.

Then I begin to think.

What is this mad rushing in my ears? Why do my veins feel like they are on fire? What is even happening right now? The blood is pumping through my body at a million miles an hour, and I can barely sit still in my seat.

I wanted to gun it. Shoot down the road. See how fast I could go. As I felt this pounding in my lungs, daydreams of the autobahn longingly flashed through my mind. The thought took my breath away.

I inhaled, pausing briefly to collect my thoughts.

That's it. I'm going for it.

I accelerate to five over. Eight. Ten.

And then I spot the cop in front of me, meandering along the road.

I exhale. Today is not the day.

But someday........ It will be.