Racing Poetry

I may have been a little nervous.

But I was not a little nervous, I was extremely petrified and unmistakably worried.

I step out of the car and walk up to the large building.

The glass is see through and I can barely make out the large automobiles.

Sitting there.

Waiting for me.

I look up.

Al Unser Racing School, the sign bright red and yellow.

I take a deep breath.

The world slows down so that I can hear the cars on the interstate behind me.

I take another deep breath and walk up to the building.

There are already kids waiting in line outside.

They look strong and confident.

They could be pros!

My mom assures me I'll be fine.

I doubt it, but she says that I will have fun.

I register and take a driving class.

I learn that red flag means stop and green flag means go.

Blue flag means yield and checkered means final lap.

I repeat the signals in my head over and over.

Then it is time.

I put on my driving suit and helmet.

The black suit makes me itch and the helmet is uncomfortable too.

I get into the cart.

It smells like gasoline.

My cart won't start.

I am frustrated.

Then with a rumble, it finally does.

I’m off and screaming.

One loop, then another, they fly by.

I'm concentrating but I'm not thinking.

Everything zooms right past.

The lights.

The noise.

The sounds.

They are all behind me.

The track marshals wave the checkered flag.

I push down on the gas.

I hold my breath and count down.

I focus.

I concentrate.

And then it's over.

I step out of the parked automobile and head for the exit.

I see my mom and she smiles at me.

She was right.

I skip out of the building.

The biggest smile on my face.

I'll never forget the feeling.