“It was on my bucket list” exclaimed my excited brother. Now he owns a horse. Totally stoked, he watched his galloping stallion go round the race track.

Winners don’t need to finish in first place.

A secret recipe of danger. Disaster in disguise ready to go.

If a smile crosses your face it’s not genuine but if you laugh it’s real.

Wink and smirk.

Sometimes it's too much to handle.

I had a dolly. Her name was Molly. She came to life. We talked and played. One day, she died. Her bits in bags in a trash can. Came back to life. She’s pissed, alright.

Bang! Gun Shot. Two Drag racers flash down the Track. A Yellow and Blue blur drive neck on neck. The Blue car loses control. Crashing and bursting into red hot flames. The Yellow car wins.

every day, she hands thirteen wrinkled dollars to the dull-faced attendant and sits in the highest row of seats, away from all the other people.

she watches the cars rush by with a bitter heart.

She cheered until she was hoarse, dropping the crutch in her eagerness to egg him on. But Banner, unused to a new rider, lost. And she cried at Fate who had mocked her season’s training.

Could he see, I wondered, the incipience? Before the med staff, before the airborne underside of the chassis, before the contact, before the swerve. There, on that sun-baked pavement, could he see what would come?

"Life is like a box of chocolates"... Mh. No. It's a race track, fast and scary. And you constantly have people ramming their trunks (full of garbage) into you to throw you into a tailspin.