31 May 2003
So far, so good. Due to the appalling state of health of my short-term memory and my unbearable thirst, I normally forget the sting in the tale. The heat of the car is finally just bearable, you’ve started the engine and are now in a great rush to get some godforsaken airflow into the proximity of yourself. You check your mirrors in anticipation of a rapid pullaway and your foot hits the accelerator with such an alacrity that means you will be doing 30 mph in the next three seconds. And then you place your hands on the wheel to steer. At first there is no problem and you are debating exactly which lager you are going to murder the dryness in the back of your throat with. I imagine it is akin to when you are stabbed by a very sharp knifeblade or shiv, apparently you feel nothing at first and only start becoming concerned when the pain kicks in moments later. I have never had that pleasure but I have had my palms melt on the plastic overlay of a steering wheel. When that information arrives at your cerebellum, the effect is excruciating. Thoughts stampede through your mind as if fleeing a raging forest fire.
“Pub, cold, beer, umm, motherfuckaAAAAAA, hot, hands, melting, pain, aroma, barbecue, pain, never be the same again, cannot move my hands, doing thirty, lorry coming, can’t turn, shit.”
Well, admittedly I have exaggerated a little, but you get the idea.