Ekaterina Kostikova

Писатель, сценарист, журналист

Brakes were invented by cowards. The speed limit signs are also their invention. Speed limit of sixty – this is not about you. You're the king of the road. Easy Rider, a lone knight of the freeway. Red traffic lights will hardly stop you, oh no. Maybe that red light means stop for someone, but for you it is a challenge. You step on it and whizzing at a hundred and fifty past the "sixty speed limit" sign you feel like Schumacher on the last lap of the "Formula 1" race. There is a shade of being Batman feeling who is rushing to save the world from yet another dangerous madman. There is another streak in this feeling cocktail – the feeling of Han Solo from the "Star Wars".
She is driving in the right-most lane – beautiful as Princess Leia. Even better, because this is not the movie. A girl for the hero. For you.
Stepping on the gas pedal and cutting some awkward loser (the loser squeals the horn in panic screeching brakes somewhere behind). But you are not interested in the things happening behind. You famously making a turn crossing two solid lines (she can see everything in the back mirror and she certainly appreciates the maneuver), you make a graceful pirouette finding yourself side by side with her car, lower the side glass and give her a look – the look of Schumacher, Batman, of a handsome man. The scene of a hero in anticipation of a well-deserved award. It is a well known concept: girls like heroes. They are thrilled by heroes, this is a medical fact.
But she is not eager to share her delight. She is looking coldly; she twists the angle of her mouth in contempt, brings up the tinted glass and leaves you wondering in your left lane. What was that? Why she ignored? She did not see it?
No, she saw everything. She saw your crossing two solid lines and rushing at the red traffic light nearly colliding with authorized drivers. But she did not recognized a Schumacher in you, pal. And certainly to her you are no Batman. And no Han Solo, God forbid. She saw a mindless thug who in you in the rush to get your well deserved Darwin Award - the character almost comical in its idiocy. Do you think that Ghost Rider, which carry on with you side by side on the highway - do you think they are Knight Riders, the cream of the cream, the fearless explorers of space and time? Alas. Schumacher and Batman are not your company, my friend. Your brothers in Mind are John from Memphis who decided to race with a train or a "Chevrolet" driver who decided to turn his passenger car into an intercontinental missile.
John from Memphis attempted to outrun the train and cross the rail crossing before the barrier fell. It was quite possible. John slipped through. And at the speed of one hundred and ninety he smashed head-with the other hero doing the same thing moving in the opposite direction. The other guy also wished to beat the train and to cross the crossing before the barrier fell. The plot for a sitcom, if there were not five dead bodies and one permanently disabled person in the end.
It was hard to identify the person inside "Chevrolet" who was willing to become an astronaut. Finding the car itself was an issue. Its metal structure was pressed into the rock at a height of one hundred and twenty feet. When it was finally found by Arizona highway patrol the officers initially came to conclusion that there was a plane crash. Later, experts came to opinion that prior to the smashing into rock the metalwork was a car "Chevrolet Impala" edition 1967. The motorist got somewhere a briquette of solid rocket fuel and, apparently, decided to realize his childhood dream of space adventures. He drove to the desert, attached the fuel capsule to the car, and... The rest was reconstructed by experts. Based on the burning character and melting marks on asphalt and other indirect data. The place of start was set more than three miles from the finish».Chevrolet" sped to 350 miles an hour and remained on the road for two and a half miles (some 10 - 15 seconds). Apparently these 10 seconds felt like the dream-come-true for the driver, because he must have experienced real space g-force. The car then, naturally, took off, and the remaining mile it spent flying in the air. A crater in the rock became a tomb for the astronaut-hero. The crater was about three feet. deep
There was another guy named Peter. Peter was also a driver. Peter was shooting an educational film about safe driving. Peter shot sitting in the cabin of a driving car. Apparently he was seating not fastened by the safety belt. Having decided to make some very spectacular shots, Peter leaned out of the car window, and, of course he fell out of the car with his camera. The death of Peter was a clear demonstration to abide safety rules and he won the Darwin Award. Similar to John who beat the train. Similar to the guy who tried to become an astronaut. Similar to dozens of other headless riders.
Darwin Award is annually awarded for the most ridiculous deaths. The Darwin Award goes to those who through self-destruction remove their genes from the gene pool. Purified in this manner of genetic garbage the mankind, according to Darwin's theory, gets better chances to prosper in the future.
Quite probable that now you will grimace and say that all these people have nothing in common with you. That Darwinian winners are pathetic fools and there is no point mentioning them now. Agree. Definitely neither John from Memphis, nor Han Solo from Arizona had his IQ off the chart. But if you think about it you did not go far from them.
Do you know why the girl left? Why she scornfully pursed her lips? Because for a woman there is nothing more miserable and less sexual than the fool in a char, no matter how many horse power it has under the hood. Women are genetically designed to produce children. And they are not excited by Headless Riders with suicidal tendencies, pal. This wise nature command we cannot overrule.