The Frozen Dog

Essay by EssaySwap ContributorHigh School, 12th grade February 2008

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What might happen given the wrong set of circumstances...

I'm not sure when I first began street racing, but that's really not important. What does matter why I stopped. So that's why I shake as I write this... because had I not been there, I never would have believed it. You see, street racing isn't always as glorious as it seems...

It was a warm spring day, nothing like the nasty wintry weather causing flight delays and school cancellations of this past week. Early May I think. My buddy Rick called me that afternoon to see if I could lend him a hand.

"Hey Mark - ya doin' anything?" Of course, for me to even answer the phone implied to Rick that I wasn't busy, so it was just a rhetorical question.

"Nah... not really. Just waxing the ride. What's up?" I mumbled into the cordless phone cradled on my chin, my right hand busy buffing the dried wax off of the hood of the Buick.

"Well, I was wondering if you could give me hand sliding the motor back into my Mustang this afternoon. I got the heads back on a few minutes ago and by the time you get your lazy butt over here, I should be ready to drop it back into the engine bay. Can you break yourself away from the Zaino for a while?" He was always jealous how wet my paint always looked and yet he never (and I mean NEVER ) took the time to polish his own car, a '93 Cobra that he had been building to the hilt.

Oh sure - he had the mechanicals down pat, but he always said he was going to paint it "next year" and still hadn't. It wasn't that the teal color wasn't cool, but...



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