LYRA
“Start your engines!!” yelled our volunteer anchor.
I revved my bike, brushing hard against the track, waiting for the horn.
“Ready. Set. Go!!!!!” he blared the horn. Our bikes blazed passed him, tearing the wind. We were taillight to taillight for the first three minutes. Our bikes cruising past the Chancellor’s drive through and the teacher’s parking lot.
No one was winning exactly. It kept being a head on head. I darted my eyes from the tracks to the controls and then back. I was perspiring. The wind was messing with my vision and I had no helmet. Stupid me.
I tried to stay focused on the game and on making sure I didn’t kill myself. At some point, it became impossible. The roads were getting rougher, the wind was blowing stronger. I had to choose; the road or my life. Of co
