pedal to the metal | pedal metal [hot laps]
Dec 29, 2023 18:44:19 GMT -5
Post by parsnip on Dec 29, 2023 18:44:19 GMT -5
Pedal Metal
There was a placid mist settling in the morning. It was the sort that concealed most except from a few spires of a building here or there. It passed through the part of town that house the Metal family. Inside, darkness rested against portraits of old. Grandpa Stellar, Papa Pressures. Their gaze weighed down upon the kid from three with a hint of mercy. Don’t be so hard on yourself, he’d think they’d say. It wasn’t true, though. One of them was in prison, and the other passed in an illegal racing accident. Pedal felt the extinguishing of his fears all the same with every blink he made at them in the hallway.
“Come on,” his mother beckoned at the door. “If you’re going to race, at least you’re doing it where it’s safe. I’m not rescuing you from the peacekeepers if it goes wrong.”
“Ma, I don’t need rescuing. You know me.”
“I do. Which is why I’m always so worried, because I knew your father. You forget that, don’t you?”
“Not one bit.” He gave a slight chuckle at least.
-
Arriving at the Science Fair caused the fire of excitement to recur. The palpable anticipation danced around with each new voice Pedal heard. He went alone, his mother at home doing the housework as though it would be inspected on his return. Something his father would jokingly do.
The bustle of citizens from all across was heard for as far as he could hear, and he settled himself in the changing rooms. He heard the voices of many people, left and right all chatting and catching up on their victories. Some were racers he recognised, most were strangers that he’d never seen before. He changed discreetly into his racing kit. It was supplied by the centre, of course. Nobody would admit to being a racer so overtly.
-
Pedal raced into the seat of his kart. It was rudimentary, and he couldn’t even find an opportunity to modify it himself. Still, he was content. The seating was comfortable. The karts seemed new. The track was custom, and he’d studied it heavily. Finally, he placed the pedal to the metal, and his back collapsed into the seating through force. Before long, the kart was away, and his laps began.
OHPaMmRiS7100+100
With the first lap over, Pedal was slowly adjusting to the pace of the karts. He was used to custom crafted vehicles without much advancement in terms of technology. These were something brand new. He found he was loving it, caring little for how well his lap was going but rather using the opportunity to revel in the fun of the game.
100+100
It was starting to wreak havoc on his back. The pressures of the new design was great at creating results, in the right hands. In the experienced paws of Pedal, there could be a few good laps at least. But few could deny that nobody was specifically accustom to the severe lack of custom found in these beasts.
100+100
He swore he seen a crowd forming. Was it for the best reasons? He couldn’t see his times. Something was either amiss in the kart, or he was simply looking in the wrong places. Regardless, he pressed on. How fast can as fast as you can be really be, if not as fast as possible?
100+100
Penultimate lap commenced, Mr Metal was starting to come to terms that this may not be the best race of his life, but by ripred it was exhilarating. He wished he could do this forever. The freedom of flying on the ground was immaculate in his mind. Nothing he could do was wrong, now. All he had to do was keep going for one last lap.
100+100
So, he did. Before the laps had even started they seemed to be over. Gone in a flash. All he could do was sit back and assess whether he actually performed as well as it felt. Did it matter? Not in the slightest, especially to his mother. All she cared about was that he was safe, and not another Metal in the scrapheap.
+ ~ +
