T Nation

A Summary Of My Night...

A number of things have been changing in my life recently; I have for whatever reason been compelled to write once more. The following is an entry from my newly started BLOG; it occurred to me that some of you might enjoy this story.

It’s happening again…I can feel it. Things are changing. Tonight, I had to escape. I had to journey with no real objective. I told myself that I would travel as far north as possible, maybe even until I reached the lakes. I jumped in my car; accompanying me a book, The Strokes, and a cup of coffee. The motor churns to life…

On the highway, heading North with no real destination. Cruising at speed with the moon roof wide open; my portal to the glorious heavens. I see heaven in its entire splendor; I see the road stretch out in front of me; I see the bright red needle on the tach hovering at 3500 rpm.

I taste the black coffee and the cold air pouring into the cabin. I hear the air pouring over the vehicle and the slow hum of the motor running at 3500 rpm begging to be pushed harder. I listen to what could only be described as the aural perfection that is The Strokes. I can even feel the music resonating about the cabin. I can feel the motor running; I can feel the steering wheel telling me what to do.

I arrive in a small town; this is where I grew up. This is apparently where I was going. I cruise through town; there is not much here. There really never was much here. Something is about to happen though, I can feel it. As I cruise through the town, the hum of the motor spinning becomes more pronounced. The steering wheel is telling me what to do; it says get back on the highway.

As we hit the on ramp, the motor comes to life. It reveals its true purpose, its true intentions. The tires punish the asphalt; an acrid smell and taste loiters in the air. There is no stopping this now. The motor screams to the 8300 rpm redline in less time than seems possible. I mash the clutch, and the shifter effortlessly glides into second gear.

The tires punish the pavement once more; I can hear the asphalt protest as war is waged against it. The motor screams to redline; I am smiling. We bang into third; the tires and pavement are good friends now. Approaching redline; moving very fast now. Once more, the perfectly designed transmission is manipulated to a higher gear. The motor is screaming now; really struggling to get to where it wants to be. The air again smells and tastes acrid; I realize that this is due to the obscene amount of fuel being burned to get to where we want to be.

I am still smiling. We knife through the night, the surroundings really blurring by at this point. I take no heed to this. Driving is now automatic; there is no unnecessary thought. I scan the road ahead, my sole purpose to tell the car when to stop. What is behind me no longer concerns me for it is gone. What is beside me does not concern me for it will soon be gone as well. There is only what lies ahead. This is why this moment is beautiful. There is no extraneous thought. What exists is only the focus on this one goal; I have found clarity.

Someone screams…the radio has been off for some time; I did not want to be distracted. It was not I and it was not the vehicle’s protest. It was the air itself, howling as we tore through it. I realized that we must stop…I realized that we must return home.

I am back at where I began…back at where I didn’t want to be. I savor the last few moments before my full return…I gaze upwards through my portal to the world. The stars are less visible here; a sort of haze hangs in the air. It doesn’t matter though…a blind man would not miss this. I look upon the pitch black night, sprinkled with the stars that seem so unmoving.

I take comfort in knowing that they will always be there, waiting as long as I need them too. I blip the throttle one last time, I feel the motor struggling, and I hear its siren song begging me not to leave. I wonder for a moment if I will forget this; I know that I will not.

I mentioned before that things were changing. I am back in the iron game; it has been a long time. Somehow I forgot about what would happen when I returned. Testosterone courses through my veins; for whatever reason I have always possessed unnaturally high levels of this stuff. I am starting to feel the pull; to feel the desire to fight some battle, to face some unbeatable foe, to go on some perilous adventure. I say to myself, “I’m in control, I’m in control.” For now, I am in control…

J. Persinger

Things go downhill quickly at a no name town red light. The kind you usually take a quick glance left and right, then take off as if the light wasn’t even there. Later, as you look back, you don’t even know why you were on that road at all.

There’s a guy, looks a lot like me pulls up next to you at the light. Ordinarily you wouldn’t take a second glance, but something on the shiny black front fender catches your eye. Not just another Nissan Sentra; the shiny red emblem says “SE-R Spec V”. Next to a tornado, the worst possible thing an RSX owner ever saw through tempered glass. You contemplate suicide, but there’s no time. The light is turning yellow…

A half choking, mucus covered scream escapes your throat. Too late. The yowl of rubber and the acrid smell of tire smoke drift back from the Sentra, almost choking you through your open window. The guy who looks like me is two lengths ahead of you, and rapidly approaching another zip code. You curse the day that salesman talked you into that high revving, no torque rebadged Honda.

Shift_ Your Ass.

I undo your panties. You are now breathing manually. You crash into a tree at one trillion miles per hour. The West wins the civil door…

Am I doing this correctly?

Sorry Congressman Foley, but I am going to have to tell the press about this one.

I cast level 3 eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman.

As you reflect sadly on that night from your grimy closet-sized cell, you wonder what might have happened if you hadn’t left your NAMBLA card and pack of Enzyte on the counter at 7-11 when you bought your last pack of smokes as a free man.

No time to dwell on that, though. Time to get ready for your date with Butch. He gets really angry if you’re late for his pedicure.

Turn to page 64 to kill the Honda salesman


Turn to page 57 to read more 2nd person narration

Thank you for reminding me of why I quit posting here some time ago; I shall not make the same mistake again.

Not bad, but a little overblown and blustery.

There’s probably about two hundred words you could cut out of that to make it sounds better.

lol @ topic