I love driving fast.
Maybe I don't love driving fast so much as I hate driving slow. Is there a difference? I'm not sure, but I do know that it's incredibly satisfying to zip from place to place at high speeds; likewise, it's excruciating to be trapped behind, say, a seasoned gentleman in a vintage automobile when I have zipping to do.
I sometimes fantasize about a mystical, heavenly highway where no other cars get in my way. Sometimes the fantasy takes place in a world where all the other drivers are eager to move to another lane so that I can pass uninhibited. Most of the time, though, I imagine a long, dark road lit only by my headlights and the fading light of the sun below the horizon; it's a quiet, warm night, and the breeze through the open windows just ever so slightly muffles a mellow song on the radio. The road is open and free, and it becomes an extension of me...my hopes, my dreams, my pain, my joy, my sadness...
And then with a screech and THUD(like Prufrock's etherised patient), I'm ripped back into reality by a story like this. Apparently a couple drivers got into a spat right here in the Springs, near the intersection of Austin Bluffs and Academy, and one driver fired a gun at the other. Geez. Don't they know there's a KFC right there! What kind of a world is this?