Remember when I went to Mt. Washington? Remember the drive down?
Last night I was racing alone through rural Vermont on a fall afternoon in my old Volkswagen Fox. I remember one gorgeous stretch of winding highway, probably fifteen miles long with rusty leaves covering both shoulders. In keeping with the reality, I was shifting into third without the clutch at around 3500 rpm. The only thing wrong this time was the 9500 redline. There is no way my Fox ever got higher than six.
I was on my way to a soccer game alone and ended up horribly lost. I stopped to ask directions from an old man walking with his granddaughter. He was more than happy to help guide me and jumped in the car, leaving the little girl alone on the side of the road. I thought nothing of it and sped off.
I miss bucket seats