A Day At the Races

Ah, another beautiful day on the island of thieves! The mellow tropical sun's rays caress mother Earth in the afternoon's radiant glow. An aroma of tropical decay hangs in the sultry morning air. The whispy coconut palms dance to the relaxing serenade of the sensual tropical breeze. And here, but a mere hundred or so yards from a massive government office mecca, I sit in a tranquil isolation, alone amidst the whitewashed sand, trailing vines of morning glories and the denizens of the crashing surf near my feet.

Getting lost in the trance of the breaking waves is easy to do, and time in the traditional sense disappears. First on the edge of the barrier reef, then lapping innocently aboard the terrestrial shores of our world, it is incessant. At some point, however, the scene has to change, and I have to leave this idyllic island of isolation that serves as  a sanctuary when compared to the mad and chaotic nature of the world. 

I sauntered back to my chariot to carry me home. It's quick and looks fabulous. It hugs the curves like no other, and weaves through the furious island traffic listlessly. Where am I on my way to I wonder? It's a life of spontaneity so I have no real direction in mind, however north seems like a good idea. Making my decision, I hop in my trusty steed to carry me forward on my dawning journey into the ferocity of the future. The local station belts out “Love Me Two Times”--what luck! My jam; a hazy, heavy batch of nostalgic euphoria drifts into my head hearing this melodic genius tenuously flowing through my speakers. It charges me to the point that I feel empowered somewhat amidst the seemingly untamed, uncontrollable world in which I reside in. 

Turning onto the ribbon of pavement before me, I start to unleash the powerful innards of my vehicle, and the distinct roar of the engine growls angrily and confidently. Despite the super performance, something seems amiss. I start looking for answers. I notice in my rear-view mirror something coming up fast, gaining on me.

This rambling wreck, this rust bucket, catching up on me and my mean machine? How incredulous! He draws near me as I am slowing down to the upcoming red light. What could this be about? I chalk it up to a speed demon of another sort; a scofflaw endemic to this day and age, disenfranchised from the modern material world, a soul burned from looking for meaning for meaning in a meaningless place. 

Deep into this near-meditatition, the red light turned to green, and I peeled out of my sauntering pace. Unfazed, the rust bucket next to me maintained its breakneck speed as well, defying the laws of gravity, however numerous they may be. 

I was stunned; clearly, to be risking this much by driving like that in a condition like that, he must be out for vengeance of some sort; surely a blood lust was coming my way. I had undoubtedly incurred the wrath of some sort of village vendetta due to incessant flaunting of my automobile!

This is it. I'm going to have to fight someone over this...race. I didn't even want to race. The light ahead turned red. The Bronco or Blazer or whatever heap of should-be scrap metal from the late 80s was coming up next to me. I came to a standstill. I looked over; the guy in the car had his window ajar, motioning for me to roll mine down as well. This is it. I'm staring death in his round, mustachioed, bespectacled face.

“Nice car,” the corpulent driver yelled jovially, “follow me to my house, I want to race you in my Camaro.”

All I need is to have my car destroyed racing some yahoo in his Camaro. I have much to lose, and little to gain.

“No.” I replied laughingly.

The signal turned to green, I sped away. The rust bucket stalled. Victory was mine for another day.