Twenty foot Screeeeeeeeech mark

Me alone. An empty car and an open road. Me and God in a three door. No police cars or emergency vehicles behind. Only traffic ahead. Blake Shelton in the speakers. New shopping mall on the left, older shopping mall on the right. Thinking about elasticity of demand for lead-based Chinese toys. Trying not to think about a test I just took on the same subject. Worried about the upcoming workday at General Mills. Wondering whether my mother will notice my unfinished chores. Watching the traffic. Glazing just a bit.

The track on the stereo changed. Ain't Easy Bein' Me, also by Blake Shelton. Shelton has the same initials as Britney Spears. I wonder if he gets that a lot. I wonder if he's ever made the connection. Would Britney Spears have made it in country music? Maybe she should try that genre as a comeback strategy. She could be the un-Dixie Chicks.

Traffic in my lane is slowing. It's faster in the left lane. I am in the left lane. The car ahead of me has a "Baby on Board" bumper sticker. Is that supposed to keep you safe from the unsafe driver? I tap my breaks. Maybe I should get a sticker like that. Might keep me safer. I wonder how many people lie on their bumper stickers. Statement not a question.

Red light. Durn. Baby on Board made it through. I'm the first car in my lane. I like the feeling of control. Dominance. I can set my own takeoff. I can test my car's zero to sixty. I smile then think. Who is in the first car in my lane in my life? Is my life at a stoplight? I frown. Green light. Ten seconds. Dang. Should have wrapped it up more in third gear. Maybe I shouldn't be pushing my car like this.

Back under the speed limit. Sure a pretty sky this time of year. Eyes back to road. Green light turns to yellow. Ain't Easy Bein' Me. I calculate quickly. I can't make it. I shift down and floor the accelerator pedal. Jump ahead. 50,55,60 miles per hour. I'm within fifty feet. I'll make it. Yellow turns red.

Right foot leaves the gas. Left foot engages clutch. Right hand disengages and leaves shift. Left hand clenches. Right foot smashes brakes hard. Left foot braces against clutch. Right hand pulls on parking brake. Hard. Left hand is strained.

Tires lose traction. I feel the drift before I hear it. SCREEECH. I fishtale some but retain control. SCREEECH. The stop is sudden and, legally, just before the write line. Lady in car to my right looks at me. Scared and surprised. More surprised. Very motherly. I look sheepish. I feel sheepish. She admonishes with only her face. Nobody else seems to notice.

A screech mark stretches twenty feet behind my car. A long screech mark. Maybe you will see it the next time you go to the intersection. When the light turns green, I look around at the other traffic to gage their reaction. No other cars are in sight. I am all alone. I drive on, with more caution and less rubber. Me alone. An empty car and an open road. Me and God in a three door.