Concave Vectors

Where do I go from here? Right turn? Left turn? I grip tightly the wheel that will control my fate. A quick glance in the rearview reveals a life less lived. At the corner, a paper bag conceals a bottle in the hands of a ragged man. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Where did I go wrong?

Steadying the wheel with one hand, like I've done all my life, I reach open the glove box. A push of a button heats a coil and shortly after, I inhale. The poison fills my lungs. The exhale evokes a younger me, a me that still had control over his route. I had dreams, inspirations...goals. I desperately search my memory for that time or place I took a wrong turn. All through college A's always found their way to my transcript. Job offers and promotions landed themselves at my feet. Nice things clung to me. The stale, redolent smoke infects the leather interior of my acquired Lincoln Town Car.

I didn't spend much of my time on things like God except, in times like these, when I needed someone to blame. Maybe my good luck is actually good will. My fortune, a gift. Maybe the smoke has gone to my head. Half a burning cigarette tunnels into the upholstery to extinguish itself. Would things be different if I had chosen my own destination instead of listening to life's backseat drivers?

My life has been on cruise control.

It's time I take the road less travelled. Stop listening to my know-it-all ex-wife, fast talking co-workers, and that lousy pompous sorry excuse for a boss. Ex-boss. Yeah, it's time I take matters into my own hands. I will be the one who decides this fate. No more following road signs or nagging GPS. I've come to a fork in the road. Instead of following one of the fixed paths I am carving my own detour. I've made my final decision.

I force my foot, heavy, on the gas. My actions cause a spike in the RPM's. Eighty. Eighty-five. Ninety. I feel the car begin to violently shake. Ninety-five. My ears hear the whipping of the wind as I pass a blur of oncoming traffic. One-hundred. I grip tightly the wheel with which I control my fate. One-oh-five. I think this is the moment where life flashes before your eyes. And maybe it did. But I missed it. A slight jerk of the wheel. An oncoming truck. The honking of the horn sounded my dirge. I'm sure there will be big flames. Fired - but whose choice was it?