Thursday, May 10, 2007

Early morning.

I jumped into my Porsche Carrera GT, and drove it down through Gray Point.

All the money I have spent on the car recently was feeling like money well spent. The car has reached a new level of responsiveness, and I couldn't wait to reach Rockport to really find out what it was capable of.

Driving through Point Camden. Taking the corners on the wrong side of the road, feeling the racing line. Trying not to draw TOO much attention.

Then, before you could blink, Downtown Rockport was in front of me. The widest, fastest, most open roads this side of Rosewood. It was still early, the roads were quiet enough.

The phone rings. It's my old enemy, Razor. He still bears a grudge. By the end of the phone call he is sitting in his car alongside me. One of us would have to make the first move. Billy the Kid and Wyatt Earp. High noon on wheels.

I stepped on the accelerator. Wheels spun, rubber burned, the front end of the car snaked left, then right, and I fought with the steering to bring it back under control. Eventually, I was in front..... A hundred miles an hour was the last thing I remember.

What happened? Razor flew past me, and I glanced at the speedometer. One hundred and eighty miles an hour, and he'd overtaken me. I was out of my depth.

I dropped the joystick to the floor, and switched over the television to watch a fishing programme instead.

3 comments:

  1. ...But then my nightmare continued. There was a rapping on the side window. I wound it down and looked up into the porcine features of local traffic cop, PC Gordon Lumley. "Nah then thee! Ooo the boody ell does tha think tha is - Stirling soddin Moss or summat?"
    It was at this point that PC Lumley parted his legs ever so slightly and grimaced before letting out a loud and sustained fart. "Eee that's better!" he grunted. "Now what did tha say tha name were - bloody Arctic Fox? Wor is tha - an all-in wressler or summat?"
    I smiled at him.
    "Eee ahm not queer lad - dunt tha bloody smile at me! Tha's nicked an ahm tekkin thee in so tuther lads can ave a gander at thee! Ahll give thee one undred n eighty mph! Tha's a bloody lunatic!"

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  2. BBC Radio Voice:
    Welcome to Racing on Sunday. Today we're priviledged to have Sir Rodney Rather-Goodchap commentating for us.

    [Ridiculously posh and over-bearing voice butts in:]

    Don't worry dear fellow, just had a drop of Dutch Courage before me big moment. Horses? Oh yes. Used to live with a horse. I say, is this on? Clear off, there's a good chap eh? Gosh, awful lot of buttons and things in here. Very technical. I say, there's some fellows out there dressed in pyjamas. Must have been a hell of a night last night eh? D'you think they know? HI! YOU FELLOWS! PYJAMAS! Funny that, they don't seem to be listening. Oh well. Gosh, look, they're on horses now! What's that? My word, there's a voice in me ear! Eh? Commentate? Well, I suppose I could give it a try.

    [starting gun bangs] [various clatters and groans]

    By jove, wish they'd warn a chap about bally noises like that. Oh gosh. I say. They're off. Well, there's a light brown filly in front. Rather good looking too. Like her hat. What's that? Right, yes, the horses. There's a dark one leading the way now, with a chap in green pyjamas with pink spots riding him. Green and pink! What jolly awful taste! Oh. Oh I say. They're whipping the poor fellows! The horses that is, not the pyjama chaps. Is that allowed? Gosh, there's someone banging on the door.

    [raises voice]

    Not now eh? Busy! I'm getting paid for this y'know!

    [aside]

    Silly chap won't get the point. Bally amateurs!

    My word, those horses are going awfully fast, aren't they? I say, I say, the dark brown one's going to win! Still can't get over those awful pyjamas. No, no, there's another dark brown one on it's way. Pink and blue! My word! I think, yes, yes, it's the brown one! No, no, it's the brown one! The brown one's done it! The brown one's beaten the brown one by a nose! I say, I say, what's going on?

    [gradually fades out]

    Rather flustered BBC Radio Voice:
    That is the end of the Rather-Goodchap commentary.

    [some music or other fades up]

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  3. I'm in the same boat, out of a job!
    Nice sabbath.
    katt

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