This piece is a compilation of truth and fiction: I would never speed. Driving is one of the few pleasures I can still enjoy. My head injury has robbed me of many things, but I refuse to yield to it. There are times when I can fight past the injury, but it is a constant battle and one I have yet to win.
The crowded doctors office is now far behind me as I zip along in my bright yellow speedster. Warm evening heat radiates off the oil-spattered pavement as the cool air passes through my unkempt hair. It has been some time since I have driven this remarkable car hard. When only a quarter of the way to my waiting home the traffic grinds to a halt.
Miles pass ever so slowly as the fumes from the vast amount of vehicles permeate the now heavy air. The history of very recent accidents is visible to all: semi truck torn to bits while a lethargic front-end loader scoops up the remains. The next mile yields a tall electrical transmission pole split vulgarly from its’ base. The ‘T’ is still electrified and occupies the entire right hand lane. Sparks fly across the highway while the pavement under the wires melts into a pool of blackness. Sirens fill the air while rapid fire, dark, uncomfortable thoughts race their way across my own mangled internal wiring. Soon a hazardous waste accident has traffic crawling with gawkers as men in special suits race to the scene. Twenty, thirty unfamiliar looking trucks line the polluted highway as workers rush like ants to save the nearby river.
Now the longed for exit presents itself and as my right foot pushes forward till there is no more give, the leather seat rushes up to push equally hard against my sweaty back. The air is cool again and blowing fiercely about as the speedometer reaches into the forbidden triple digits. Finally a smile creep its’ way across my face, but it lies to those who see it. Internally still damned with defective neurons and conflicting emotions that struggle to surface: fighting hard to keep one set buried deep within while trying to let another set escape and feed my weary heart. Temporary freedom from listless days is cheerfully welcomed.
Home presents itself with love ones and, sadly, at the same time the temporary high lowers itself back to dwell deep within. A genuine smile adorns my face while I keep the pain hidden away. There is no time or place for self pity, I am extremely fortunate to have what I do. My condition will not resolve itself: my goal is to gain a minute amount of coping skills whenever, wherever I can. Today I traveled far, but went nowhere.
very well done 
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