"May I kiss your forehead, Crimson?" She doesn't recoil or say a word, so I press my lips gently against her forehead. It's a tender and fleeting moment, but it fills me with a warmth that I can't explain.
"Just because a relationship has an expirat...
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DREXEL GENESIS
The green flag is held steady in the air, ready to give the go.
I look out the window to see the racer seated in his car next to mine. He seems to be giving himself a pep talk. As if feeling my taunting gaze, he swirls his head towards me. A smirk creeps onto my face involuntarily as I playfully taunt him with a cheeky wink. I let out a snicker as his eyes widen in surprise before contorting into a look of disgust.
Ah... It feels so good to mess up with them a little before a race.
The onlookers and spectators on both sides of the old bridge flare up with shouts and cheers as they wait in anticipation. The reviving engines are thunderous enough to vibrate the bridge and my body. My hands drum the steering wheel rhythmically in anticipation, my eyes now fixed on the flag.
The flag goes down.
And off we go.
A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, electrifying my senses as the boisterous cheers of the spectators filter into my ears through my open windows. The wild chants and frenzied clapping energized me, fueling my excitement. They fade away into the background fast, as I fly through the streets and onto the main road. Well, why not add some music to keep the mood going even crazier? I turn on the radio and the sounds of heavy metal and bass fill the car. Now that's more like it. It felt as if I was living out one of those heart-racing scenes straight out of a movie, where the characters are hotly chased by the cops; you add a little music and you feel like you are racing against the speed of lightning.
It was past midnight, so there were barely any vehicles up here, and that worked to our advantage to race freely without any obstacles. As I speed up, I look in the side mirror to see a grey Subaru catching up fast to my car.
Kash.
My eyebrows raise as I notice his car drawing closer to the rear bumper of my Ford Mustang. Was he trying to crash into my car? He was such a dim bulb; he always tried to get his way even if it meant hitting innocent pedestrians crossing the street (Well, for his luck, he hadn't done that...yet).
My eyes train on the road ahead and my car approaches the bend of the 'Avenue Street'. My right foot comes off the gas pedal and I quickly shift gears. I suck in a breath as I make a sharp right to the street.
I felt a deep connection with my car as if we were in perfect sync. Every control, every button and pedal responded instinctively to my slightest movements. When racing, my car became integrated into my being, our actions flowing together in perfect harmony.
For me, this was the beauty of racing.
I am reminded of one quote that my Uncle used to tell me; You are an artist, the track is your canvas, the car is your paintbrush, and the tire is your paint.
