Blame it on Eve, Again

Women have a strange effect on the hormonal 17 year old. They have the ability to make them think they can do anything. Or nothing. Depending on the girl. My target was one of those do nothing types. Whatever I did to win her wasn’t enough. I tried the whole emotional guy, the masculine man, and then the middle of the two. None of that worked. I was destined to be her friend. She wasn’t capable of letting herself see me as anything else and let me know it. The frustration can make you do crazy things. At least to some people it would be labeled as “crazy”. To me, it’s a normal part of life. It’s self-discovery. Speed was a sieve through which I could drain my emotions to let me see my core issues.

As I accelerate away from her house, it’s one of those nights. It’s time to reevaluate my life. The cockpit of my car is going to be my escape. People know what it’s like to cruise at 70 miles per hour. They have a firm grasp of the speed. Not many know the exhilaration of driving in excess of 120. Let me tell you. It’s focusing your mind and your body on the caress of the curves. It’s ripping down straight stretches, the trees a blur of green and brown on your periphery. It’s freedom.

Gravity and inertia don’t allow you to break their laws, even if you can ignore cultural restrictions. I know this well. I’ve had brushes with the natural laws. Drifting down a mountain road, sliding on loose gravel, is a terrifyingly good time. It’s amazing what trees can do to a car plummeting at the speed of gravity, the only thing slowing it’s descent the friction of air on it’s sculpted body. It’s one event that I don’t feel the need to repeat. At least, not in that car. Gimme four wheel drive and we’ll talk.

Speed is a life threatening addiction. The more of it you have, the more you want. Like heroin. Time to shoot up tonight. I strapped in, it could be a bumpy ride; and grip the wheel as my foot slams the gas to the floor. The car shoots itself up to a respectable speed-respectable on the track. I watch the trees begin to smear, and start to think of consequences. I could find myself in the path of a deer or a radar gun. But I just push these thoughts aside. For now all I can handle is the moment. At 100 miles per hour you have to be ready for the turn before it comes, brake late and you’re in the trees.

I drive at my limits starting to push them, to test them. These are roads that I’ve grown up on, grown used to. I feel no fear as I rocket around the turns, crest the hills, and speed down the straights as fast as the car will take me. The speedometer reads 150 before I have to slow down for the next turn, a smoothly banked curve posted speed 35 miles per hour. I almost lose the car, but save it, and smile. I have a rule, if I almost crash, I go home. A good rule, right?

I take a right at the next intersection and start back. I keep driving at neck breaking speeds. It’s another one of my rules. If I start driving sporty, then I have to finish the same, unless there’s a cop, which is the only way I’ll slow down. I’ve been driving hard for some time now, longer usual.

I approach a posted 25 turn and start to apply the break. One problem. The car doesn’t slow down. After driving hard for awhile it’s possible the brakes can liquify from the heat and glaze over...so that they can’t slow the car down. I grasp the wheel tighter and keep my foot away from the gas. I enter the turn at 100. Too fast. There’s a bump in the turn and it launches me up towards the moon. My eyes go wide, but that’s all I can do before I touch the pavement again. When I hit, I’m perpendicular to the road, brilliant. My tires squeal, and I try to correct the beginnings of a spin, but over adjust.

Spinning around, like a top, I try to wrap my head around it; how this could have happened? I’m invincible, right? I mean, come on. I’m 17 years old. There’s no way this could be happening, I’m better then this. I can’t die, not yet. I’ve been through rougher spots. Pavement’s not going to tear this car apart. Hah. Yeah. Fucking naive. Well, not totally. Pavement didn’t touch the car. It was the 5 mailboxes that destroyed it. My pristine 1993 Mitsubishi 3000GT was scratched, dented, and basically pummeled into an unrecognizable form. The car was listing on the edge of a ditch when the officer happened to roll by. They couldn’t identify how fast I had been going-lucky for me-but they did know that I had been going a bit too fast. The ticket read “reckless driving”, it wasn’t reckless in my mind until the brakes stopped working. But I kept that little tidbit to myself. No need to get in any more trouble.

The parents were unhappy-to say the least. The police just gave me a fine, had me take a “defensive driving” course and told me to be careful. My parents, however, took my license for 6 months. That’s a long time to someone who used his car as an escape from reality and as a vessel for clear thought. In that time, I had to relearn how to deal with my problems. It wasn’t easy. But eventually, I discovered music as an outlet for anger and depression.

Today, 5 years later, I woke up and started getting ready for school. I’m a little bit stressed about a mid-term that I have, so, I turn on Panic! At the disco. It’s upbeat music with a sadistic bent. It takes my mind off things for a bit as I shower and get dressed. I go out to my car. A beat up green Civic that gets me from point a to point b without a hitch. It’s not fast, but I don’t need a fast car to get to school. I just need something reliable with a CD player.

I pop in the new Angels and Airwaves album, and start up my car. As the music begins, I drive to class. It’s not a long one, only 4 or 5 songs worth. But it’s long enough for me to relieve my stress through voice.

I sing along with the strains of the music, putting my heart into it. I set my cruise control to 60 as I drive leisurely down the Prince William Parkway, not in a hurry, I have plenty of time to get to class. I don’t feel the need to go any faster then I am now. I get to school and take the exam and leave happy, I think I’ve aced it. So on the way home I turn on some happy music, Coheed and Cambria does the trick. I get home in time to watch Smallville on TV. The words “Somebody save me” are the first that I hear in the opening theme song.