some point in grade school.. we had one of those ‘ride your bike to cure’ something or other. they marked off a section of this back road, somewhat paved with loose gravel for fun if you fall. i was overzealous, of course, and promised some ridiculous amount of miles. back and forth, turn around… again.
then there’s those days in the mustang, going ANYWHERE BUT HERE. middle of the road where the tires find their groove. jimi hendrix on cassette, the red vinyl interior melting with the things behind us in the rearview.
no one else is out here and you can still fly through the intersection because the semis haven’t come yet. when the corn is too high to see around the curves, fuckit. slowing down is for pussies. remember that.