27 May 2007
I would not be doing justice to my own first car if I don’t write about it. I already paid tribute to my dad’s 800. You all knew this would follow. Like all distant memories, this one needed a key to open up. Sven borrowed my satellite radio for the week for his trip to Vegas and I was left to the mercy of a few mp3s on my computer. This song, people, gets my heart racing for not how heavy it is but what I would do when this played. This is the key to some of the best times on a Florida freeway. 2007 VH1 Rock Honors plays on my DVR with HD picture and sound ecstasy and I am already in the mood. So, with my kick-ass shure ear buds on, I let this piece pound in my head one more time before writing…turn it up and put your seat-belts on…
10 June 2007
I have finally decided to finish this post. A few things have changed from when I started. I cant find my Shure earbuds any more. Maybe one of the puppies got it or it is simply lost in the mess I call my bedroom and I cant remember taking it to my bedroom ever.
This is a post more about this remixed song than the drive itself. The song starts of so subtly, almost like the calm before the song. I was stopped before this red light with Arvind in my Eclipse. This song came up building up this huge potential energy that the car seemed to decipher in symphony with me. Every passing moment of the red light was just like an extending string, closing to its elastic stress point, waiting to be released. I clutched the leather clad beefy steering wheel with my left palm while my right hand tightened the leather grip on the stick shift. My left foot engaged the clutch and I ease the car into first gear. My right foot still holds the brake steadily. No inching. No looking around to see who I am up against at the thick white line of the junction.
Then the soft chorus starts off and I know the main part of the song is about to stream in full volume. My eyes see the red disappearing and the green slowly appearing. My left foot lets go the suppressed clutch and the car lurches forward. The tachometer needle responds. My right foot has already let the brake go and is pumping in octane into the six working cylinders. No tyre squeal. The feed into the hot engine is perfect and the feed onto the front axels are perfect. The low profile tires deliver exactly what is asked for. I punched in through the gears before the RPM could drop and before a few seconds are up, I am at the speed limit and others at the lights wonder if there was even a car in front. I ease the car at a comfortable gear and cruise around. That was the journey. This is my destination. No race. No triple digit speeds. Just the joy of leaving every one behind and making my own way.