In the minds eye.

The skies are clear and the traffic sparse. I’m returning home from Makkah after having prayed the mid day prayers. The bright sunlight bounces off the hood of my car, bringing out the deep hues of the pearlescent gold paint. The black top snakes between mountains and through the serene desert sands. The majestic mountains offer a shade from the blazing sun and the sands taunt me, daring me to abandon myself to the sensuous calls of the timeless desert. I ignore it, I have to get home.

I roll down the window and let the warm breeze in; it kisses me, taunting the same taunts. I sigh; it’s the desert wind. I will come my darling, one day I will come. I lean forward in my seat and look up to the clear blue skies, it comes like it always does. “And the heavens shall be opened as if there were doors,” I settle back into the seat and roll up the window.

From time immemorial countless travelers have let themselves be seduced by the enchanting beauty of the desert only to perish in its raging fury. This ancient temptress is like no other, its soft shifting sand tempting you to taste of its poisonous fruits, the ancient wind beckoning you with mysterious tales of days bygone. The vast serene scene unfurls before your eyes and you are instantly captivated. The distant grunts of dromedaries from a caravan only serve to remind you once again of its complete tranquility.

I enjoy driving; it presents a welcome break from the humdrum of everyday routine life. I do most of my contemplating from the driver’s seat; I evaluate relationships, judge characters and rediscover lost loves. But not today, the desert has destroyed my peace and is mocking me with its serenity.

I glance at the rear view mirror, hoping, searching but turn away disappointed. I overtake some slow moving cars and settle back to a sustained 120 KMPH. I glance again at the rear view mirror, searching. I’m about to turn away when I notice it; A tiny blue dart zooming in through the heat waves.

I instinctively pull back my hair and knot them up in a pony tail. I roll down the window and the wind screams “Speed Kills!” I ignore it and wait for my lift.

Speed doesn’t really kill; it’s idiot drivers who do. Drivers who don’t realize their responsibility on the road, those looking for cheap thrills every time they get into the driver’s seat, Drivers who gamble with their lives and the lives of others on the road.

It’s a dark blue Toyota Supra with white racing stripes down the middle. I smile; I know what I’m in for. As soon as it passes I floor the accelerator but in no time at all we encounter heavy traffic. The supra shifts to the shoulder raising a huge cloud of dust, nearly blinding the others; the desert has reclaimed some of its property. After passing a few cars it has to settle back in not far ahead of me. We soon start losing traffic and the supra begins speeding off. I pull into the right hand lane and slam my foot down hard on the accelerator, flooring it. The supra is too quick and is slowly peeling away from me. That’s when I notice another car between us, a bronze Lumina SS. “This is more like it.”

The Supra’s driving style leaves a lot to be desired, he seems to be one of the idiot drivers variety. I have found that usually people do not understand the subtle nuances that set apart the fast and furious drivers from the careless and rash. Although it maybe true that most rash drivers also drive fast, there can be no comparing the two, there is a world of difference that separates them. That is the difference between a Sebastian Loeb and a punk with a souped up car. I can give any car a serious pounding without scratching it even once. I may drive like a maniac in heavy traffic but always stop at school crossings. I may skid my car to a stop but never do more than a subdued crawl near playgrounds. Putting the life of an innocent at risk for the sake of cheap thrills is not the hallmark of the fast or of the furious. Punks who jump red lights remain just that; punks, they can never be a Sebastian Loeb or a Michael Schumacher.

The needle climbs to 180 KMPH and both the Lumina and the Supra are still accelerating. I can’t lose them now; if I do I might not get another chance. We’re soon through the 190 KMPH barrier. I make a metal note to lose them if they breach 200; I dislike going over 180 in traffic let alone 200. There’s more traffic up ahead and I see the Supra forcing his way between cars, not daring to challenge the deserts grip on the black top again. Sensing danger, I lessen my pace. The Lumina is being held up by the traffic and has to slow down when suddenly it brakes. Up ahead I see flashing lights and smile, “Serves him right”.

I learnt responsible driving the hard way; I had once almost run over one of the beautiful children I had ever laid my eyes upon. She had cheeks as pink as the pinkest rose, her long light brown hair was tied up in twin pony tails. She was a tiny creature, so vulnerable and I, the monster, had almost killed her. I had felt a sick feeling rise in my stomach, disgust at myself and everything I had done. I have not been the same person since.

Almost as soon as we clear traffic we see the Supra rolling to a stop with a cop car behind it. One down, two to go. The Lumina suddenly accelerates and threatens to me leave me behind in it’s fiery pace. I gun the engine and in no time we’re doing 190 again. I see the needle crawling up to 200, I can’t lose him. The Lumina is still gathering pace and I see it slowly tearing away from me. We pass the King Khalid National Guard Hospital, still gaining momentum. Up ahead there’s an exit ramp, on the other side I know there’ll be an entry ramp. I dislike taking chances so I tap the brakes and begin decelerating. And sure enough, as soon as the Lumina passes the bridge, a patrol car comes hurtling down the entry ramp and mounts a chase. I smile, “Two down, one to go”

Although I don’t have a pace car anymore, the adrenaline is still running and I know I have to see this through. As soon as I clear the Lumina, I start picking up speed. The needle again inches up to 180, I like the pace. Within a few minutes I spy in the distance the exit to my colony. Almost there….. I’ve escaped the Highway Patrol but there’s one more obstacle to overcome; the checkpoint. Sometimes you get stopped at checkpoints because a cop messaged ahead and sometimes you find mobile radar units tracking you. But not today, the immigration official peers into the car noting nothing of interest, He then smiles and waves me through.

The only time I have ever received a speeding ticket was the day I had resolved never to speed again. That fateful day I was so overcome with guilt and remorse for breaking laws that were designed to help protect people that I failed to notice the speedometer needle pointing somewhere a little above 125. The sound of the police horn and the sight of the flashing lights rudely jerked me out of the brooding reverie I had fallen into. Despite all my best efforts, the cop would not let me off the hook “You have to learn a lesson” he said handing me the ticket. My first ticket... and my last.

But that was then and this is now. I don’t speed anymore, not after the accident. I have learned my lesson, the hard way…..