Originally Posted by CaptainInsano
I just try to image the person on the other side of the keyboard. I see them reveling in the fact they were able to get a rise out of me, that for a brief moment in their day they were the ones who were powerful and had the last say. Then I think of what tomorrow looks like for them. Do they like their job? Are they happy? Why can't they just be content and confident with what they have, and applaud those who strive further? Then I remember how fucking fast my car is, and the evil grin that stretches across my face when I first feel the g-forces. I remember that I don't give a damn what they think, and that what drove me to the forums in the first place was my passion for cars, and the desire to go faster. Then I go back to where it all started, up in the canyons at night, the cold wind slicing past my open window, a clear sky above, and the sound of turbo spool echoing off the forest below, as I push it faster... and faster...
I spent many summer nights in those same woods...