One hot summer night in ‘77, eight teens squeezed into my friend Murray’s souped-up yellow Duster, and barreled down the expressway, bouncing potholes at 160 km an hour. The muffler was roaring, the music was slamming, and Murray’s foot was lead on the gas. At the top of our lungs with sangria-stained tongues; we were terrorized, euphoric. Hair lashing my face, I closed my eyes, and felt an unfamiliar happiness. I could die in a split second, and was more alive than I had ever been.
I conjure this experience to pinch myself awake.
I remember an experience like this from high school… riding in the back of a Monte Carlo (I think) going 120+ down a two lane road. It’s funny how the things that bring us to the edge make us aware of how strong our life force really is.
Comment by Kristi — September 9, 2008 @ 1:23 pm