Road Rage

I have fallen in love with go-kart racing. I realized this the first time I felt the tires skid as I flirted with the brakes approaching a sharp turn. There is something wildly erotic about speed, you see. It elevates me to places higher than when I got my first gold medal in nursery school or when I experienced my first real kiss.

I used to date someone who raced at the lengthy stretch of concrete in Libis. That was before the police got wind of the after midnight sport. But then, I was a mere spectator. Watching my man and his baby slice through the night's wind at gazillion kilometers per hour made my heart skip beats. I vowed never to try the so-called sport ever.

But this was different. I was the one driving. And it wasn't just a car. It was too small a machine that my body nearly touched ground and I was close to lying down while driving. When my right foot bore down on the accelerator, it stuck there and I found my soul blending beautifully with the whirring sound and screeches.

I had seven laps. My passenger was nearly out of her wits. But underneath my helmet, I was smiling like a madder than mad Cheshire cat. She must hate me for nearly having her killed.

I resolve to say goodbye to my couch potato lifestyle and push myself to hit the road. Hey, it may not be as maddening as Metro Manila traffic but at least I get to drive around at 120km/hour. I'd take life threatening speed over snail's pace and morale killing traffic anytime.