11,705. RUDIMENTS, pt. 662

RUDIMENTS, pt. 662

(at breakneck speed)

On time, I forget, I guess

it was late afternoon maybe,

just beginning the daylight

fade, a cold, December day,

a Sunday, absolutely 

nothing much going on,

I can't remember the exact

sequence, and probably

don't want to, but with me 

behind the wheel of my 

old Jaguar, and three others 

in the car with me, coming 

up from points south along 

the Jersey shore, Route 36,

as I recall, headed north,

back up to Avenel, I picked

up a guy and his girlfriend

in a Volvo sports car, a 144

I think they were. He was all

squirmy about seeing the Jaguar

next to him at a light, and

by means of whatever form

of osmosis idiot drivers use

I picked up his challenge 

to race home. I did it more

because I thought the girl

in his passenger seat was

pretty cool. We took off, and

all nerves put aside, and with

most lights in our favor, he and

I did a fair 103-105, as I recall,

that's miles per hour, speed,

in the course of getting home.

Long about the old Premium

Diner area I put my turn signal

on, letting him know that I was

breaking off, for Avenel Street.

He kept going, straight along,

towards Linden and north. We

were, all fair, above even in

the little push/pull speed thing

we'd just done. However, I

figured why stop now, and

I'd always wanted to see the

underpass at speed : we got

and took the underpass at a

fair 85-90. Solo. One mad,

careening, crazed, overweight

Jaguar Mark VII taking that

right-of-way like I owned it. 

No obstacles, and I got down to

Rahway Ave. in time to stop

and gather my senses. Of course,

by this time, (elapsed time overall

was, maybe 15-18 minutes), the

contests within the car, meaning

people, were all over themselves

in glee and the joy that only

impending doom can bring. 

But we got back to 88 Dartmouth, 

and without saying a word, we 

all got out. It was quite the 

event. It's how legends are made.

-

Ever since then, hearing of things

being done at 'breakneck speed'

has held a different meaning

for me, and most of the time it

has felt like I was careening,

myself, at a high rate of speed

and headed right for an obstacle,

wall, or abutment. I hold to the

premise that all occurrences, at

base, are the same. It's the driver, 

or the agent-mover, within the

action who makes any difference

about determining what the finish

is. To wit : I was a really good

fast-car driver, even when

outmatched, poorly braked, and

in the way-wrong weight-class.

The same went for me with

motorcycles too, even though

most of the time that was just

the happy softness of alcohol

propelling me along. My friend

Neil used to scold me on those

days when there'd be 10 or 12

of us, motorcycles, riding along

in Parkway or whatever other

road traffic we'd get. Often at

the head of the pack, or near

I'd start my lane splitting or

(what he'd call) 'thread the

needle' antics of skimming

between cars, etc., etc. His 

point, as he phrased it, was 

that I was good enough, and 

able to do that shit, at speed, 

but others would inevitably 

then begin to follow, who did 

NOT have the same adept 

ability, and SOMEONE

was going to die, crash, or

get maimed. Just goes to 

show. The funny thing was, 

we'd always be going over 

this, with beers in front of us, 

at whichever bar was our latest 

stop, and it was always all

over by then. Fortunately,

nothing ever happened  -  

because it would have 

been really awkward to

have had to have Neil,

looming over a crash scene,

say, 'I was going to mention

this at our next stop.'

-

Well, so much for all that.

I've always liked keeping an

even keel. Long time back,

someone said to me 'Don't

lose your cool.' I had no idea

what that meant. Then, after a

while I learned that what was

meant by it was not to let

the moment's situation break

you, put you awash in hot and

emotional actions. In a way

it was the same as me always

saying, as I do, abut 'distancing'

and remaining aloof or outside

of the heat. That was a good

lesson to get, early on, and

most especially helpful in stress

situations  -  much like speeding

and overdoing things. There

was another time, same vein,

I'd been out all day at the

Englishtown Swap Meet, and

races  -  motorcycle  -  with 

some NYC guy, a H.A. prospect, 

name of Frank, as I remember  

-  I remember the last name too, 

but it's not important for now  -  

nor do I know if he's dead or

alive or even still with them.
Last time I saw him he was
guarding bikes at their Third
Street headquarters, as prospect.

We ended up drinking the night

away at the old Pioneer Tavern,

in Iselin, and when it was time

for him to go, late, he asked 

directions for the Parkway,

Holland Tunnel, and all the 

rest. He and his girlfriend 

were going to ride out. We 

were all toasted, believe me.

I began telling the directions,

and then I remember saying,

'Oh hell, let's just go, I'll take

to the tunnel entry roads.'

Which we did  -  they got

on their motorcycle, and I

got on mine. Upon which,

once on the Parkway, I began

threading the needle, at the 

same time doing about 100.

Boiling in alcohol too. Frank

was, believe me, no slouch,

staying close up with me.

He was aghast, however, and

every so often I'd get an eye

bulge or hand motion to slow

it all down. I can remember 

every elapsed minute of that

time, as if it was now. Parkway

to RT. 22, and then in towards

the tunnel. We finally stopped,

pulled over, and Frank knew the

ropes from there. His girlfriend

simply uttered, 'Oh my God, I

think I came.' That's what a

manly fear does to certain

people. (Also probably the

vibrational thrill of a solid

mount engine).

-

I don't know why I just told

that tale, except to say that I've

always loved the story. It's

my considered belief that in

this life we are given nothing.

The only way we define ourselves

is by action. All we can do, by

our own acts, is select and define

our personal codes and meanings.

That is what we're given, by God,

as it were, with which to make

our creation work. James Joyce 

had it thusly: 1. God is the noise

in the street. 2. He holds my 

follies hostage. 3. The epicenter 

of corruption is sought. 4.God is 

in all things, but unseen.

-

All this starchy life gives us are

choices to enervate action, to get

off our duff and make change, 

do something. It doesn't have to

be, necessarily, good. It doesn't

have to be funny; it doesn't even 

have to be right. It just has to be. 

All those qualitative terms come 

later. Otherwise we're just following

ritual, for the sake of adherence.

I've done a lot of the stupidest,

most asshole things, you could

imagine. Half the time, looking

back, I don't know how I survived,

but here I am. The disguise of the

universe, yes, is in its silence
while we act the doer.