An Open Letter

24,923 mph. That's how fast something needs to go to break free from earths gravitational pull. There's different cosmic velocities also – 3,000 mph for the moon, 7,900 mph for mars, and something more than 40 mph for a 2014 Prius C.

40 isn't much, but when whipping around the twisting back roads behind the university, it borders that boundary. There's some belief I have that if I can just go fast enough, I can outrun any fears or feelings that lay behind me. 40 mph wasn't enough to break it this time.

Sometimes I'll turn the lights off on the car so I drive almost blind. Something about going fast on a straight stretch with no guide on what's ahead feels like it should be intoxicating. But it isn't. I turn the lights back on after a few seconds. This time I started to brake to take my exit, and I saw the red glow in my rearview mirror. For a split second, I thought I was being flagged down by cops – but after the light doesn't change to blue that whole fear/fantasy goes back into some corner of my mind, until it's next performance. That brief scare is enough to remind me that I don't want the rest of that fantasy, and I slow back down to the legal limit.

30 over wasn't enough to escape it's pull this time, but I'm sure I just need to go a little bit faster. Then I'll be free.