Ode To Third Gear
I am now in third gear. My beloved third gear. Fifteen minutes ago my nightmares were to real. First gear. Let off the clutch. Slowly give it gas. kill it. Repeat. Start the car. slowly let off the gas. To much gas. My tires are screaming like a bashee, but I am moving. Second gear jerks me back and forth but I am still moving and my blood pressure is returning to normal.I look to see who I must share the road with. I am watching all the other drivers, and they are mocking me. Smoothly passing me down the hard grey surface. I can only imagine what I must look like to them. My eyebrows forcing my eyes nearly shut into a squint of concentration, and pure fear. For now I am safe in third gear.
My fate quickly changes. I know a stop sign is coming. I can not see it yet, but I know it is there. Strategically stuck in the earth just for me. A sickening feeling fills up my stomach, and it creeps up my throat the closer I get. I can see it now. Red, and eight sides in all its glory. I down shift into second and my heart rate goes up simultaneously. I am now so close that the stop sign is laughing in my face. My lips tighten with a curl of disgust. My foot hovering over the clutch. My hand sweaty on the shift knob. I am nearly to a stop when I see the other three streets are deserted. No other cars to greet me. I accelerate and roll threw the four way stop. Not completely legal, but I am in survival mode. My only mission in life is to get home. I shift back into the comfort of third. I can feel the stop sign starring into the back of my head as I make my escape. I do not dare look back.
As soon as I exhale, it gets quickly sucked back in. Another stop sign. Clearly who ever designed these streets was trying to shave years off my life. I arrive to quickly and I am forced to put it in first gear to let the jerk who arrived before me go. My turn now. I am not moving. I begin to panic when I see headlights grow bigger behind me. Like two spot lights on the new clutch driver. I can not think clearly and I must go threw the wrong motions because I am still not moving. I turn the key in a fashion of defeat and give a quick wave to the victim waiting behind me. I turn my focus back to my feet and think back to all that was taught to me. I can do this. I let off the clutch, slowly giving it gas.A little more gas. I am moving! I give one more wave made out of exciment and relief. I slip it into a bumpy second leaving a trail of shame behind me.
Now I can relax.There will be no more stops on the route home if I can help it. Slowly I release muscle by muscle as I cruise to the security of home in third gear.
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Short Story / Humor
Short Story / True Confessions
Article / Humor
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