A Moment Of Reflection (Part 2)
The car hits 100 mph as the black and white sign indicating that you are now only breaking the speed limit by a fair amount flashes past. The road stretches ahead in a gentle left hand bend. It's been raining but the asphalt surface is dry, only the white lines dividing the lanes to worry about. You turn in softly, throttle gently balanced and engine revving hard in fourth gear. Look around the corner, careful not to twitch the steering wheel, smoothly does it. The car glides, as happy to be driven hard as an inanimate object can be. The slight undulations on the floor feed back perfectly through the suspension to your hands as you let the car drift to the inside on the camber.
Unseen, the trees ahead have been dripping rainwater onto the ground, leaving the surface at the apex of the turn wet. The front wheels spot this problem first, the controls going dead and the front of the car inching to the right. Off the power, let the weight of the car help things out. The back wheels catch the slippy surface and slowly, slowly, the back of the car edges outwards, towards a spin and the suddenly all too close trees on the wrong side of the tracks.
A little opposite lock, hold the wheel firmly as it tries to kick and scrabble for grip. Get the power on, don't bottle this one for fuck's sake.
You have time to reflect on what music is in the CD player. Fuck, I'm going to look a faggot when they pull bits of that out of my face. Blasting through the countryside whilst listening to chick music must be removed from my to do list in future. I'm not wearing clean underwear but fuck it, this isn't one of those waking up in Casualty moments. This is the Big One, always somewhere ahead. I wonder what would happen if I just let go of the wheel, let the god of Physics steer the ship and the chips fall where they may?
Never one to back down from a challenge, you decide against it.
The tail of the car remains a few stubborn degrees out of line, dragging the action closer to the white lines that mark safety from the danger of an oncoming car. A Rover. I refuse to hit a fucking Rover, come back to me you bastard. A little more lock, you'll have to watch out for it coming back round the other way now. Come on you fucking piece of shit, straighten out and fly right. A millimetre at a time, the recalcitrant bastard does as it's told.
Straighten the wheel, back on the power, up to fifth and away, Peter lives to fight another day. Humanity and God breathe a sigh of disappointment. So does Peter.
Unseen, the trees ahead have been dripping rainwater onto the ground, leaving the surface at the apex of the turn wet. The front wheels spot this problem first, the controls going dead and the front of the car inching to the right. Off the power, let the weight of the car help things out. The back wheels catch the slippy surface and slowly, slowly, the back of the car edges outwards, towards a spin and the suddenly all too close trees on the wrong side of the tracks.
A little opposite lock, hold the wheel firmly as it tries to kick and scrabble for grip. Get the power on, don't bottle this one for fuck's sake.
You have time to reflect on what music is in the CD player. Fuck, I'm going to look a faggot when they pull bits of that out of my face. Blasting through the countryside whilst listening to chick music must be removed from my to do list in future. I'm not wearing clean underwear but fuck it, this isn't one of those waking up in Casualty moments. This is the Big One, always somewhere ahead. I wonder what would happen if I just let go of the wheel, let the god of Physics steer the ship and the chips fall where they may?
Never one to back down from a challenge, you decide against it.
The tail of the car remains a few stubborn degrees out of line, dragging the action closer to the white lines that mark safety from the danger of an oncoming car. A Rover. I refuse to hit a fucking Rover, come back to me you bastard. A little more lock, you'll have to watch out for it coming back round the other way now. Come on you fucking piece of shit, straighten out and fly right. A millimetre at a time, the recalcitrant bastard does as it's told.
Straighten the wheel, back on the power, up to fifth and away, Peter lives to fight another day. Humanity and God breathe a sigh of disappointment. So does Peter.
posted by Peter O'Phile at
6:21 pm
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