High Noon Club.
"I'll be back before midnight." Chase shouted to his mother, who was sewing in the room next door.
"Where are you going?" She enquired, "Is there going to be a number that I can call?"
"Not unless you buy me a cell phone." Chase responded, pulling his leather jacket over his arms and zippering it up before taking his keys off of their hook.
"Stay out of trouble!" His mother yelled to him before he left.
"I won't." Were the only words she heard before the start of an engine and the rev that followed.
Take a right, fast forward two miles, bear right, then take a left. Another right, another right, go straight for a while, take that turn, forward and up the hill. Then take a right, hit the accelerator and you're free.
Chase began his journey to nowhere, and wasted no time in the process. Every straight bit of road might as well have been a little boosting strip. Soon, Chase found his friends, the ones that he had never met before. There was his friend in the red Mercedes, and his other friend in the dark blue Mitsubishi. They were joined by his friends in the black Ford and the silver Kia. They were drifters, or at least they were to Chase. Y982, AZ433, COMBS, 66327 and WR45: the drifters. It didn't matter where they were going, nor did it matter where they came from, they had one thing in common: they were all breaking the law.
60 turned to 70, then to 80, then into 95 and finally breaking the triple-digits. They continued on, the five of them, until they merged with another route. Chase turned around, and seconds later the group had scattered. But that didn't matter any more, the bond was already established. There was something magical about it, five strangers risking the thought of a policeman in ambush for no reason other than to drive. For those 15 minutes, the radios in their cars, and the wheels on their cars, and their headlights and their drivers were no longer separate: they were one. It didn't matter if they were playing Jimi Hendrix or Green Day or Garth Brooks, or if they used halogen headlights or sodium-based lights, or if they were old or new, empty or full, they were united.
And that was all that mattered.
"Where are you going?" She enquired, "Is there going to be a number that I can call?"
"Not unless you buy me a cell phone." Chase responded, pulling his leather jacket over his arms and zippering it up before taking his keys off of their hook.
"Stay out of trouble!" His mother yelled to him before he left.
"I won't." Were the only words she heard before the start of an engine and the rev that followed.
Take a right, fast forward two miles, bear right, then take a left. Another right, another right, go straight for a while, take that turn, forward and up the hill. Then take a right, hit the accelerator and you're free.
Chase began his journey to nowhere, and wasted no time in the process. Every straight bit of road might as well have been a little boosting strip. Soon, Chase found his friends, the ones that he had never met before. There was his friend in the red Mercedes, and his other friend in the dark blue Mitsubishi. They were joined by his friends in the black Ford and the silver Kia. They were drifters, or at least they were to Chase. Y982, AZ433, COMBS, 66327 and WR45: the drifters. It didn't matter where they were going, nor did it matter where they came from, they had one thing in common: they were all breaking the law.
60 turned to 70, then to 80, then into 95 and finally breaking the triple-digits. They continued on, the five of them, until they merged with another route. Chase turned around, and seconds later the group had scattered. But that didn't matter any more, the bond was already established. There was something magical about it, five strangers risking the thought of a policeman in ambush for no reason other than to drive. For those 15 minutes, the radios in their cars, and the wheels on their cars, and their headlights and their drivers were no longer separate: they were one. It didn't matter if they were playing Jimi Hendrix or Green Day or Garth Brooks, or if they used halogen headlights or sodium-based lights, or if they were old or new, empty or full, they were united.
And that was all that mattered.
posted by Dylan at 12:14 AM
1 Comments:
<(^^)> you posted on the weekend! Good for you!
Post a Comment
<< Home