Beauty from the Beast

It was the image of perfection:
ruby red paint
sleek curves
and the power of a beast
contained within its compact form.

I named it Baby Red -
for the color -
and loved ever minute
behind that 0-60 in 3.75 seconds
2000 Honda Civic.

It was the envy of every man,
woman, and child in my small town
and on the campus of my 500 population
school that I sped to as I ran late
every morning from the moment
I bought that slice of heaven on earth.

Then, the gravel came fast to chip
the paint from the side
and the road met window
at 55 miles per hour
as my stack of Compact Discs
bombarded my head as the world
spun around in circles
going so fast but so slow at the same time
like a careening airplane
that's sure of death but no longer afraid
of what is to come as it
plummets so quickly
to the ground that there is no
turning back from what
is going to happen.
Then it stops.

I am sideways.
Hands at 10 and 2.
The car groans its protest beneath me.
I push up against the passenger door
that is suddenly so much heavier than
it ever seemed before.
Gravity's a bitch when you're trapped.

I land on all fours on the gravel road
and cry int the headlights that light both
my feet and my contorted face
as I stare blankly at the carnage
of my once beautiful Baby Red.

I scream out into the night
"Help! HELP! Oh my GOD!
HELP! I just wrecked my car!
Won't somebody help me!"

I cry out in vain at the lonely farm house
and to the rustle in the bushes.
I scream not for the aide but for the comfort
of screaming when the world
has come back to full speed
and the impact finally hits
that my car is not my car
but my pile of scrap metal
for all I know or care:
this is the death of beauty.

The cell phone lights from inside
and I scale the car once more
to reach that heavy metal door
and fall through to the other side,
where my journey both ended and began
once more, to dig for that beacon
of flashing hope beneath the gas pedal,
beneath the black rose pedal that killed
a love and gave birth to a new love
all at the same time.

"Help me! I. Wrecked. My. Car!"
I pant between sobs

"Huh? Dude? What?"
He says in shock and awe.

"I. Wrecked. My. Car."
I repeat for affect.

"Woah. Are you shitting me?
You're late man, get yo ass here!"
He retorts, hoping to see
some way passed my joke
that isn't really a joke at all.

"I. Can't. I. Wrecked. My. Ca-a-a-ar!"
I scream and squeal
and thrash about
until he appeals
to my cry for help,
for him to come my way!

"We're on the way."
Thank God, you're on the way.

Headlights blare from both directions
parents come last, as usual,
but the friends are their pushing
and holding and hugging and praying
that nothing is broken.

But something is broken:
my big-headed pride,
my over-sized stride,
my love of myself
I could not deny.
Until that very moment
when it was all gone.

They came to push it back upright
and there I beheld that horrendous sight:
My Baby Red turned into the Red Beast
the devilish gravel held its devilish feast
on that shiny red paint and that smooth sleek body,
why did this happen to that smooth sleek body?

That night was a daze
The next day a drag
I sat on that bus
and wailed and sagged
in the seat as it bumped
along that same gravel road
where my car marred the surface
of a patch of roughness in the otherwise
quite bumpy road that should never
have been traveled.
That will teach me to speed
on loose gravel!

Two weeks later,
the Red Beast was back
but the stares were of another
sort than the stares of before.
These were of sadness,
pity, and remorse
for the loss of cart
for the loss of its horse!

They wept at the loss
of such superficial beauty:
the red mixed with white,
the ash to douse the flame.

"It was so pretty
But then you had to go
and wreck it all!"

Why do they make me take the fall?

I drive it still today
Some two years later
I drive it still today
But it's become something greater:
A legacy I leave behind
to top my "Tops in Texas"
because long after that
trophy is forgotten,
they'll still remember me:
the boy who rode the gallant steed
That broken piece of former beauty
turned into the ferocious beast!

I leave behind a legacy when I move:
the legacy of Baby Red turned to Red Beast,
the legacy of legend to say the very least.

Wherever I go, people recognize me
But it's not by what I've done
Or who I know
Or what I will do.

Wherever I go, people recognize me
because I'm not afraid to tame the beast
and ride it into the night,
and on through my life.