Its synthetic. Its Hollywood. Those moments in time are not real. When the camera pulls back, when the sunset is perfect, so perfect. It's staged, the colors enhanced. The scenery to sublime. That moment was crafted over hours. Your dream is a packaged concept from the story board. To good to be true. So good it could never be true. The real lasting moment you pine for will arrive as you digest this very exposition. Exposited without the glitz, the vibrance, but accompanied by the fade to black as you struggle with the death of a unicorn. The weapon is now loaded. Proceed with caution. Good luck fren.
The Drive. /
Last night I looked over my shoulder and out my lightly frosted over window. My eyes were met with the invitingly blank stare of an over illuminated moon. It was a challenge. It was telling me the sky was freckled with an audience of stars paying close attention to a sleeping and very boring city. A look back at the computer screen would get the same reaction out of me. BORING! Just black text on a white background. Out of the corner of my eye to the right was a single key with a beat Batman dog tag. A black and silver well modified sport car is waiting to be awakened out front. A pause and look all the way right would find me looking at my sneakers. So be it. I would eat up the moon lit New England roads once again in a one on one battle. Car vs. mankind’s master lay out. I would not let my car be defeated.
My car has a straight pipe back to a very poor excuse of a legal muffler. It for the most part, literally roars to life. A quick walk around confirms my tires are at pressure, all the lights work, and air is the perfect temp to make optimal horse power. As I buckle I notice all the gauges are where I need them to be. Oil pressure is nominal, battery charging at 14.1, idle is 900rpm and gas is close to full. Flip the lights, enter first gear, spin the machine around and roll to the end of my street. Left or right?
On a clear night like this I listen only to the sound of the car. Me, my machine and nature. Just how I intended it to be. There are many sweeping curving roads where I live. I know them well. On a cold fall night there are 2 dangers. Multi colored misplaced leaves all over the streets in unforeseen places. Then you have the Hunters. Late night creatures that scare the hell out of me. I do everything in my day to avoid them. On nights like this they are the enemy, you would most likely call them the police. Hunters are more skilled then you think. On boring cold nights they live to catch emotion seeking drivers at their fastest. I live for these nights. I creep on stage like any artist that has done their routine 1000 times before. Stopping at stop signs, slowing down for yellow lights, not passing cars on the right. I treat this type of night as if I will not be ever allowed to drive again. About 9 minutes in and I have circled the better half of the city. Its 1 A.M. I haven’t seen the Hunters yet. Time to test man, machine and fate.
I pulled up to a stop sign. It knew this would be my last safe look left and right. Time to get this 2000lb machine going. Strap myself down, mash the accelerator, dump the clutch, catch the ass end before it comes around and pull the close ratio gear box into 2nd. Now 3rd, then 4th. 80+ mph comes on strong down streets that haven’t been serviced in years. Here come the train tracks, a down shift from 4th to 2nd with the right blend of heel toe will let the car slide wide while maintaining my rate of speed. It was a sweeping right that can be taken very fast. Up a gear and here comes another right, decreasing radius, same story, brakes, blip, shift and let it brake free just a bit. At this point my tires have come up to temp, my slotted rotors let the dust escape allowing the Hawks brake pads to catch them just right. Now I’m running wide open. My machine is screaming with excitement as I land each shift at 7200 rpm. I barely notice the on ramp to the highway at this speed. 120 mph for 2 exits. The off ramp is a deadly friend. It is a good challenge to ones skills allowing them to find out if they know the machine they have been building. It starts off as a very nice sweep to the right. 80 plus at this point. Then its happens. The ramp takes a violent kink to the right. Most people lose it here. Not me. I didn’t build this car to get beat by the workers who couldn’t calculate a nicer right hand off ramp. Little drift to the left side of the road and I’m back on city streets again. Maintaining 60 mph is dangerous in the land of Hunters but tonight it is necessary to take full possession of the experience. I take the next left. I push the car hard around this near 90 degree bend. My strut tower brace is the only thing keeping me off the 6 inch rim killer of a side walk to my right. Perfect. Another 15 minutes of this till I came to my first red light. Staring me down from across the way is a 2008 Dodge Charger, wearing the latest in land shark technology.
The light turns green and I proceed across the intersection. A brutal stare down from the much larger and much more powerful car takes place. My car holds it own but I get nervous. The loud steady echoing exhaust note is enough to peak this land shark’s interest. For the last hour has stared at the silent streets listening to only the sounds of the crosswalk signal without seeing a single soul in this slumbering ghost town. He follows me but doesn’t have much to go off of. I use every blinker, slow down for every turn and never exceed the speed limit. Although he still could have pounced he doesn’t. It’s a game even for them. Catching me slip up makes the kill taste that much better. As I take a left he breaks off and drives straight never looking back. Time to finish achieving my personal objective. Hard on the gas aiming for the next right hand apex locking on to my exit, planning the next turn and there it is. It’s a fucking ambush! His hunting partner. A battle hardened veteran. The 2005 Crown Victoria p71 Interceptor is grinning with is razor sharp teeth anticipating a kill. Clever creature. He had a clear shot of me acing the last turn. Slowing down as I pass him, he greets me with the blue lights of defeat. I have been beaten 3 turns before my safe haven. Not to despair as I have evolved a special defense weapons system for this hunt. I have developed neurological SCUD missiles that I can use with laser guided precision. He approaches and drools out the beast’s usual barrage of questions. I fire missile 1 from an enfiladed position landing dead on in the brain of the skilled officer. It goes off with pin point accuracy. A salvo of warnings and advice return from the officer but have no effect on target. Success, I am free to go. I live to love another night. I am the self proclaimed victor of nothing.
A new beginning /
(Original write day 03/16/20)
Last night I seen a old man laying half In the street half on the side walk surrounded by 3 or 4 people. Stopped to see what's up. Turns out he collapsed and was having trouble breathing. No one there would go near him. He was responsive but looked bad. Luckily there was a police officer pulling up. Today I seen an older guy crying in a stair well. Might not be related but things are different now. We will all analyze things differently. For the next few weeks your politics and opinions don’t really matter. The genesis of this storm no longer matters. I look at this photo I took a few weeks ago and it just feels like a premonition. We will see what we are made of over the next few weeks. Be vigilant we are one bread shortage away from next level problems. Stay safe.
Itch to ride /
I woke up Sunday with an itch to ride, and decided to head to Connecticut since I haven't ridden there much. A quick google of "Ghost towns in Connecticut" came up with Johnsonville in East Haddem, CT. A bustling manufacturing hamlet fallen into abandonment; with an eccentric aerospace CEO, theme park and and international church thrown in to add some spice. Sounds like my kind of place.
A ride down highways and by ways quickly brought me there. Slowing down and creeping down the dead end street gave me slight chills; a thoroughly abandoned town devoid of life. No people, not an animal to be seen, only the sound of traffic passing on nearby route 149. I parked the bike and walked down the road, respecting the numerous "No Trespassing" and "No Entry" signs. The only signs of recent habitation are new "Church of Christ (Iglesia Ni Cristo)" hung at the main entrance and a "Work of Propagation" sign hung on the door of the old general store.
I hung around for a bit, enjoying the silence and stillness of the hamlet before getting back on my bike and exploring more of my Mother's home state.
By Charles Moore of Tank-slapper.
