' D.U.I '

Have you ever wondered why people choose to live in constant denial? Makes life a lot easier to live, doesn’t it?
I for one am a speed junkie. Nothing exhilarates me more than the sound of a ‘V’ revving into oblivion.
I know speed kills, however it’s a choice I make and it sure puts a smile on my face.
Unfortunately I also happen to have a craving for alcohol and when the whisky induced ‘Dutch Courage’ translates into a lead foot, THINGS can really go wrong.

Its 3:00 am. The night is chilly, with a light mist floating over the cobbled surface.
A middle aged gentleman saunters towards a row of cars parked neatly along the pavement. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of three keys. Click….Click, takes two keys out and tosses them away. Then, he looks at the key-chain and stops. It’s never looked so beautiful, what with its intricately carved silver horse shining ever so slightly in the dim light. He can’t help but reminiscence about his adolescent years, years spent yearning to own one of these. With the key held firmly in hand he carries on.

Beep Beep!! Two indicators flash. He reaches for the door and as he opens it, admires the swooping lines of the car. Marina Blue, gunmetal finish wheels wrapped in seductively detailed fenders. This was no ordinary car. It had a soul.

After swinging his foot over the wide sill and easing himself into the snug adaptive sports seat, he shuts the door with a resounding thud and takes a deep breath. “Nervous,” he thinks, “Maybe.” Excited? “Definitely.” The key is inserted and turns with a mere twist of the hand. What follows next is mind-blowing. The engine roars to life with the butterfly valves going about there business in the most synchronized manner possible. Right foot mashed against the floor, the exhaust blurts out a sound unparralled by any other. He fishes out the bottle of Petreux from his coat, proceeds to uncork it and then without thinking twice puts it to his lips. A few swigs later the bottle lies shattered on the road.

Sweaty palms grip the steering. Clutch engaged, First Gear, Wheel spin…Power steer. He smiles. Repeats the process but dials in less power. She lunges forward. 7000 rpm, Second Gear. He’s already doing 70. Corner…. Brake, downshift, tail out, accelerate…..SMILE.

Eases her on to the highway and she starts to pick up speed. 70…100…130…150...Truck…..blips throttle, third gear, engine wailing, flick of the wrist…..SMILE. Eyes bloodshot, courage builds. Ears tuned to the fantastic sound behind his back, he drives on.

180….bend fast approaching, “Take able?” hmmmm….. Down into 5th, tires squealing, nose out, tail in….UNDERSTEER…..frantic downshift, third gear…..130…..7000 rpm
trying to induce oversteer….too much traction…..railing……CRUNCH....ROLL….THUD.

Police, today, found the remains of the 550 Maranello stolen from Nice. According to eye-witness reports, the driver lost control while trying to negotiate a bend on The Grand Corniche. The body of the thief has been found and the post mortem report suggests that he was driving under the influence of alcohol. Police have yet to verify the identity of this man however he’s not French. Interestingly, the thief had what appears to be some sort of a grin on his face.