Losing my breath, heart is cannon thunder as tall Pines scream by leaving Arkansas in their wake.
The machine roars over the red earth like some other lonely planet's surface. Slightest touch is death or at minimum a really bad day. Still the sound of my older brother's coffee and cigarette laughter makes it hard to focus as I push harder in the wheel. It doesn't matter now I can see the road we lost up ahead and I bring my foot up slowly from the last slide, I needed this or some part of me did, to tempt fate's scarred and timeless hand, " the channel locks are in my bag." He reminds me for the 29th time today, but I am braking now, leaving the rallied road behind. I will never in my living days let this moment slip my mind. My heart slows as the muddy wheels glide effortlessly onto the asphalt once more. Oh my brother knows everything about black top too, let me tell ya.