|
The night will come, and rip away |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Her wings of innocence through every word we say.
Summer months have come full circle. Everything that is green and lush begins to wilt and parch under the blistering sun. The dust is caught up, and choking the skin of fragile beasts. Everywhere, the sun beats down and makes things go shabby and gray, dirty pale with the caked dryness.
Of course, I couldn't care less. Due to my nocturnal habits, I get to miss the blistering heat of the day (for the most part, aside from waking up in puddles of sweat, clothes sticking feverishly to my skinny, pale body.) and I get to enjoy the most pleasant time of all. The mild breezes and delectable two AM weather. The temperatures are perfect. The sky is cloudless and dark. The mildest of breezes kick up, bringing smells of fresh wildlife. The only noise is that of crickets, and the ocasional lonely howl of a coyote.
Well, that and a V6 engine pushing four thousand RPM, and squealing tires.
The night crew is an odd bunch. Our cars are a ragamuffin collection of tuners, classics, grocery getters, and two Mustangs. One of our members drives an 89 Toyota Supra. When it's not busy being backed into in parking lots, the engine is busy trying to escape the clutches of the bay. Meanwhile, the incomprably large driver (probably the most automotively intelligent b*****d here) is occupied trying to cram new life into its aged and shambled chassis. Another member drives a new Chevy Cobalt, in which he received a twenty point speeding ticket. Most likely because the car is the most garish shade of orange that you've ever seen. There's the 97 mustang, which needs a new alternator, and perhaps a driver less intent on smoking so much pot that it grows from his head. Finally, we have the Mazda 626. When it's not busy spinning its tires in the parking lot, our feckless driver is busy thrashing the hell out of his speakers with a horrendous techno backbeat.
Why do I tell you about these cars, and their respective drivers? Because these are my workmates. We don't meet after hours at the pub. We don't get together on our days off and go hunting, or play a spot of baseball. In fact, outside of work, we don't see each other at all. Which is a mean feat, as three of them live together. Our time together, those long, dreary 40 hours of work that we all shamble in for is our only time together. On the whole, it's rather quiet. Serene. A placid scene of hearty americans working together. We chat about politics, history, video games, anime, and of course, cars.
Everything from the proposed handling of the Bugatti Veyron, to the immense styling of the Pagani Zonda. We discuss powertrain options on 80's tuner cars, and power to weight ratios. A heady mixture of talk about driving styles, car aesthetics, and what we would do with 100 million dollars. Current best respones was to buy a small chain of islands and declare yourself a soveriegn state. I'd personally buy a Titan 2 missisle facility out in nevada, and turn it into a fabulous underground mansion, with above-ground test track.
On lunchtime, sometimes, we muck about with our cars. Or, to be more apt.. I muck about with my car, and drive too fast around our offices. I've currently set a challenge of 105Mph around a certain road by where we work. Now, we'll see how long it lasts. I'm also intent on beating that record myself, as I had a passenger with me at the time, and had to slow down, due to traffic.
All in all, this does not fill me with a sense of "atta boy, you done good." It, in reality, makes me wonder how in the hell I passed my driving test, and "Should I really be looking at a supercharger and exhaust kit for my car?". My workmates don't have questions like this. In fact, they rather enjoy our challenges. We've discussed setting up a rally course around town, and timing our laps.
Sometimes, work can be fun. Especially the bits where I'm not actually working.
Maybe it's time, to spit out the core of our rotting union
Hopefully before it chokes us to our senses.
 Twistex · Mon Jul 02, 2007 @ 04:51am · 1 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
