Monday, June 18, 2012


Faster than a bullet from a gun 
He is faster than everyone
Quicker than the blinking of an eye
Like a flash you could miss him going by
No one knows quite how he does it but it's true they say
He's the master of going faster.

That's the chorus to the song "Faster" by George Harrison. I was singing the whole song to myself as I rounded the track. Although I was determined to stay ahead of everyone else, that was only my secondary goal. So long as I beat Jason to the finish line, I would consider it a good race.

Just a few hours earlier, I was in an abysmal mood. My daughter had left earlier that Friday to go on vacation with her mother's family for a week. I'm not used to her being away from me for so long, so, I was acting rather mopey when I stopped at Jason's house after my usual half-day Friday work day. We were going to go get some lunch and have a beer. I offered to drive, figuring that a little trip across town with the top down would be cool. Jason insisted on driving, so I hopped in his truck. As soon as we got under-way, I began talking about lunch options in town.

"You're in a bad mood. We need to get you out of town for a while", Jason said. Forty five minutes later, we were having cheeseburgers and tropical drinks at some beach bar in Indiana. After lunch we toured a bunch of fireworks stores, ran around a Best Buy and tried (unsuccessfully) to start up a jam session at a Guitar Center. We found our way to a bar where the waitresses wear skimpy outfits and act all flirty. I was halfway through my 24 oz Sam Adams Summer Ale draft when some of the Miller Girls approached me and asked what I was drinking. "Why, Miller Lite, of course!", I said. They gave me a bottle opener. Which was cool because I needed a new one. They offered to take a picture with me, to which I declared that I would only take pictures with Samuel Adams himself.

Across the street from the bar sat a Go Kart track. Jason and I popped over there and I was excited to sit in the only beer themed kart they had there. We had a track full of 8 racers and, as the flag dropped, I gunned the engine and tore out. Jason laughed and yelled "Give a thirty-something year-old man a bunch of beers, and put him in a go-kart and he's sure to smile!". He was right. I grinned as I rounded the first turn, singing "Faster" to myself. Jason pulled ahead of me and I side-swiped him.

"Hey! They said no bumping!", he protested.

"Nobody's watching", I said, flashing my evil, competitive grin.

Between the two of us, we were able to keep the other 6 racers behind us and, through a brilliant maneuver, Jason managed to pull in front of me. I could not let this stand, so as we pulled into the last turn, I bumped his rear wheel in just the right way to get his kart to skid out, allowing me to take the lead.

In hindsight, he probably let me win. And, even if I hadn't, at least I got a chance to get out of town for 12 hours and put my mind away from missing my daughter. I had a great time and a ton of laughs. That's what a best friend does for you.

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