It was like that classic car duel
in ‘Rebel Without a Cause’
where two cars race towards a cliff
and the driver who jumps out first
is the chicken.
I was in my Holden Cruize,
he in his yellow Monaro
and he wasn’t going to let me in his lane.
This went on for half a mile.
So when we were at the intersection,
I looked across, gave him
the ‘You’re on, buddy’ sign
and soon as the lights turned.
I gunned the engine,
shot across as if flung by a catapult
my batman black against his banana yellow
burning rubber, billowing smoke,
cars horns beeping, a voice yelling,
which was kinda funny considering my age
but I made the turn I wanted
got my sausage sizzle and this poem.
I don’t know what got onto me.
It was my James Dean moment.