Racing In The Streets

"Maybe this town rips the bones from your back, it's a death trap, a suicide rap, we've got to get out while we're young..." And kudos to the clear heads in New Jersey who, in spite of their obvious love and affection for all things Bruce Springsteen for not making "Born To Run" their state song. I was thinking about The Boss' signature anthem as I rode to work on Friday. As a bike rider, I watched with mild disdain as a PT Cruiser went tearing up a residential street a block away from my school. At not quite seven thirty on a Friday morning, what is the point of racing down a street to a stop sign, only to accelerate another block or two to yet another stop sign? Where's the fire, bub?
Then I remembered my own youth. Our neighbors across the street used to wince in anticipation of my exit from the spot in front of my parent's house. The Chevy Vega was no mean street machine, but inside, with the stereo turned up, you couldn't have convinced me of that. I often left a little rubber next to the curb as I raced off to another day at thoroughly suburban Boulder High School. Or down to K Mart. Or over to a friend's house. When I was seventeen, I didn't go anywhere slow.
Nowhere was this more true than the four block stretch just east of us, where I could really let all four cylinders of that baby roll. Best of all, there were no stop signs on Grape Street. One block over on Glenwood, you had to stop at nearly every block. Not so on Grape, and I took advantage of the difference. I wasn't the only one, either. Both of my brothers, as a rite of passage, tested their vehicles on the drag strip of North Boulder.
Mostly though, I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere. I was on my way to a place that I hadn't been, but I had no idea where it was. Consequently, I kept accelerating in hopes of getting where I didn't know where I was going. It was that feeling: I had to get out while I was young. It took me another thirteen years, and I still go back there to visit. But when I do, I always obey the posted speed limit. I'm somebody's dad now. It's those darn kids.