Hour 1–Disclaimer

“Professional driver, closed course, do not attempt.” You know you want this car. You know you want to ease your model-like lank into this techno-womb and feel satin controls against your skin. Of course, it’s nighttime, and cool gleam surrounds you. The machine itself creates its own benevolent shine as pavement streams past effortlessly. Have you noticed no other cars on the road? Yes, you know that’s how you want it. Finally, you’re free. Free to unleash all the power within you. You’re a success and this is your reward. The accelerator cups your shoe. You whip the wheel and make impossible turns.

Sorry. Not allowed. See, this is a closed course. Probably non-existent. CGI, no doubt. And you’re not a professional driver. We know you floss while driving, drop condiments on the floor, sweat against upholstery. By now you know the drill, right? It’s a commercial. You’re being seduced. We want you to buy the car. The capabilities of the car? Not for you. You don’t get to experience them. Come on, look at what that driver is doing. Clearly illegal.

But think how irresistible you’ll look driving this car. Abiding the law. Making payments. Total control.

 

 

 

June 11

Feeling the need to test this thing again. Anxious and confident; confident about completing the marathon, anxious that what I write won’t be crap. It begins 28 hours from now. Not in this alone; my life partner Cindy Albers is also doing the 24 hour marathon. Hoping this headache doesn’t cling all weekend.

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