Letting go of the past is never easy. Especially when you start singing, “If you would have known me when.”
Then again, the Gutter is a great place to put the pedal to the metal one last time. Down here we say Fuck it in style....
Then again, the Gutter is a great place to put the pedal to the metal one last time. Down here we say Fuck it in style....
Oldie by Mike Loniewski
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She rumbles to life and part of me wakes up with her. I look
at the hands wrapped tight around the wheel, old and scarred, nails yellowed
and rimmed with dirt. Tattoos etched into my forearms, once bright and clear,
now dull and faded like the man at the wheel. My body’s brittle, got a back
with shards of bone riding my nerves, dick’s more useless than tits on a bull.
But, boy, I still got her. Kept her in fine shape, strong and clean. Cared for
her better than my body, my marriage, my kids.
The rearview rattles and I catch hollow, broken eyes bitter
at the piece of shit in the driver’s seat. I look away to the dash, revving the
engine and seeing her spike across the gauges. She’s a time machine and I’m 25
years younger. The withered skin sheds clean and that chiseled, tatted up
badass from long ago takes over.
“You fuckin’ serious, old man?” the kid shouts through his
window. “You really want this?”
“Don’t want it. Need it.”
“Be a shame to take that ride of yours.”
“I ain’t no first timer,” I tell him. “I know how the show
works.”
“Well, all right then, gramps. Let’s see if you still got
somethin’.”
I clamp down on the shifter and
explode off the line. I’m thrown back into my seat, the smell of oil and rubber
on fire. Everything goes deaf inside the cab, my teeth rattling. I shift down,
the needle spiking. Shift again, pressing harder; she bucks into each new gear.
The finish line pulls closer, the road torn open behind me. I keep my eyes
forward, shifting once more, the final push, she roars from her gut.
From the corner I see him pass, a bright neon blur, purple
lights glowing beneath it, its sleek form mocking me as it flies though the
finish long before us. I ease off her, down shifting, and my ’68 Camaro comes
to a stop, still growling, pissed off. I grip the wheel and look at the
rattling rearview and see those same bitter goddamn eyes, the man I once was screaming
at what I’ve become: a goddamn pussy.
The kid and his posse are hooting and jumping and they start
banging on my hood.
“She’s a fine ride, all right,” he says. “Needs someone who
knows how to handle her is all.”
I put my hand on the shifter, ready to throw her in gear.
I’m not letting her go, not when she’s all I’ve ever done right. He pulls a
gun.
“The fuck, man? Don’t go doin’ somethin’ stupid. Car’s mine.”
I lurch her forward.
The kid pops off a round into the cab. My ear goes deaf, a
hole in the headrest. I grab the gun, pulling him to me. But the kid torques,
and the barrel presses to him. There’s a flash and I see the neat hole in his
chest weeping red. He falls, gun tumbles into my car. I look at his body in the
road. His friends are screaming. A bottle crashes against my windshield. I
floor it, tearing across the black.
I change gears, again and again, the chassis rattling
through my spine. I grit my teeth. Headlights rise up behind me, fanning out
across the road, giving chase. Sirens ignite. I catch my eyes in the mirror,
alight, alive. I throw the shifter down again and I laugh. Let’s make this a
hell of a run.
Blue and red lights rise up in front of me, dancing across
the dash, fluttering brighter as they close in. I lean forward, and slice
between them with the skill of a fighter ace. I’m a warrior again.
Up ahead, another roadblock. The tires hit the spike strip and the front end lurches. I launch off a ditch. I’m airborne, the forest ripping past, my foot still hard on the gas. Heat spreads through my veins. I roar like a beast torn free from chains. A tree rises up like the hand of God. I look down in my lap and smile. I’m gonna die with a hard on.
Up ahead, another roadblock. The tires hit the spike strip and the front end lurches. I launch off a ditch. I’m airborne, the forest ripping past, my foot still hard on the gas. Heat spreads through my veins. I roar like a beast torn free from chains. A tree rises up like the hand of God. I look down in my lap and smile. I’m gonna die with a hard on.
