One minute “Playout”

I hate my car.

I used to like my car. It’s a nice car. 2001 Chrysler 300m with leather interior. Comfortable.

None of that matters. I hate my car.

When K and I showed up at the park this morning, we took our warmup jog around the baseball fields and did some stretching. Then I pointed and said there is our playout apparatus. He asked if it was in the car. I shook my head. He asked i it was the car. I nodded. He looked at me like I was crazy.

I pulled the car out of the parking space and pointed it straight ahead and told him to get in and gave him a stop watch. I had a simple plan. I would push the car fast as I could and far as I could in twenty seconds with him riding. Then we’d turn the car around and it was his turn to do the same. Our goal was to do this 4 times.

We made it 3 times.

I’m sure the old people walking in the park found it curious to see two large black men on their hands and knees behind a car, contemplating death. It’s pretty amazing how little we cared. We only had two thoughts.

I need more air.

Don’t throw up.

That was probably the hardest 60 seconds of my life. I’m sure I’ll feel real good about my accomplishment. Tomorrow.

Right now? I hate my car.