The Beast
I can feel the cold breeze blowing on my neck pushing me forward toward the potato cellar that is now filled with farming equipment with layers of dust on them, instead of potatoes. I know the cellar its self is safe but what is inside of it is what makes me want to turn and run. As I take my first few steps into the cold, dark cellar I begin to rethink my decision. I can smell the dry dirt that covers the cellar floor and the rust that is coming from the farm equipment. I can hear the birds flying above trying to find their way out of the cellar. ‘Maybe that’s a sign’ I think to myself. Unfortunately I trust my new fiancée, Tyson and keep walking forward with him leading the way. I still remember what he told me when we first got engaged.
“It’s a necessity that you learn this, if you are going to join my family”.
I had finally convinced myself that it was, like he said, a necessity and now found myself in this predicament. I watch Tyson as he un-covers the beast that I was supposedly going to tame. I look at the white four-wheeler, with bright red writing on it saying blaster. After reading the word blaster, images of rockets, defying gravity and the number 911 pop into my head, this is going to end very badly.
Tyson rolls the four-wheeler down the rusted ramp that is connected to the trailer. He then starts to inspect it and as I watch I can’t help but wish that something was wrong with it and that I wouldn’t have to turn the dreadful thing on and try to drive it.
“Looks to me like the air pressure is low in this front right tire,” says Tyson.
‘Yes!’ I think ‘I get to live another day’.
“Thankfully, we won’t be going on any long distance rides today so this will be just fine” he then says.
It is as if I had won the winning prize on some radio show and they then had the nerve to tell me that it was all just a joke. My heart plummets into my stomach so far that I have to take a deep breath to try and revive myself.
“Well I guess now is better than later,” I say to Tyson “let’s get this over with”.
I can feel the fear within me trying to take hold of my body. Sure I had ridden four-wheelers and dirt bikes but with someone else driving. Now this is me driving it and worse than that the four-wheeler is one with gears that you have to shift on your own. I hesitant to turn it on for fear of it running off with me but I wasn’t going to give into my fear. I turn it on and I can feel the rumble of the engine underneath me.
“Ok Katie, slowly let go of the clutch and start giving it gas.” says Tyson.
I hear him but his voice seems fogy and distant. My mind isn’t listening; it’s focusing on one thing and one thing only, surviving. The next I know the four-wheeler jerks forward and then dies with a loud grunt.
“Crap! I knew it! I knew I shouldn’t be trusted with this, now I’ve broken it.” I say, stunned at what had just happened.
I look back at Tyson and I can see that smile he gets when I do or say something idiotic.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my pain.” I say to him as if to make him feel bad.
“You didn’t break it, you just killed the engine.” Tyson explains with a big smile of his face.
He then grabs the key and turns the four-wheeler back on.
I can feel my heart starting to race, but not with fear this time, no this was different, I . . . I’m actually enjoying this. I can feel the fear dwindling away little by little and excitement starting to make its presence known. I sit there with my left hand on the clutch holding tight and my right hand gently giving the four-wheeler some gas.
“Ok, again Katie, give it more gas and slowly let the clutch out,” Tyson says emphasizing the word slowly.
This time I let it register in my mind and do exactly as he says. I can feel the four-wheeler starting to move forward and the excitement exploding in my body and I let go of the clutch faster than I should have and the four-wheeler jerks forward and dies with a grunt, again. I know that what had just happened was wrong but that explosion of excitement caught me off guard. Without Tyson even getting close to the key, I grab it and turn it.
It’s the same feeling as the last time that I turned the four-wheeler on, the excitement, but this time I’m ready for it. Tyson doesn’t even have to say anything, I know what to do. I rev the engine; give it enough gas to get the motor going. I repeat in my mind what Tyson said to me earlier ‘slowly let the clutch out’. I can feel the clutch disengaging as I let it out. It feels like the tense muscles of a horse that is ready to sprint. ‘Now give it some gas’ I think as I start pushing harder and harder with my thumb to give it more gas. As I do that I can feel the four-wheeler creeping forward.
I finally give enough gas that I suddenly find the four-wheeler moving forward, not at a creeping pace or about to die. Stunned at the idea that I’m actually doing it, I finally bring myself to look up –instead of at my hands –and find that I am coming closer to the cellar doors. “Crap! How you stop this thing?” I yell back to Tyson and see him running after me. “Right foot! Right foot!” Cries Tyson. I glance down at my right foot and see a peg that I have just been resting my foot on. I gradually start putting pressure on that; enough pressure to stop the blaster, before we get close and personal with the cellar doors.
A few weeks later…I can feel the wind blowing past me as I speed down the dirt road leading out into the dry desert, trying to keep up with my still fiancée, Tyson. Even though I am driving the ‘blaster’ the name means nothing compared to the dirt bike Tyson is driving, but I do my best to keep up. I’m still not accustomed to driving the blaster but we get along pretty well after a couple weeks of practice. I finally catch up to Tyson only because he has let off the gas and allows me to catch up. He then points behind us, up in the sky and I glance behind. Even though my helemt restricts my eye sight, I can see behind us what was not reported on the weather channel. Dark clouds growing bigger and coming our way.
We are half way to the office that is out on the farming land that Tyson works on and we had planned on stopping there to have the lunch we had packed. I look back at Tyson and I can see his right eye brow rising as if to say ‘think you can handle a little rain or do we need to turn back so your hair doesn’t get wet?’ I glare back at him and then without warning press hard on the gas, taking off ahead of him. While portraying the image of not caring, inside my head I’m praying the rain doesn’t hit till after we have reached the office. Unfortunately, my luck seems to have run out because the rain starts fall while we are about two miles away from the office.
The second I feel the rain hit the skin on my arm –that isn’t protected with a long sleeve jacket or long sleeve shirt –I gasp in shock at the pain one drop of rain can make. The pain feels as if someone is shooting their air soft gun at me at a close rang. I look at my arms which are now covered with bright red welts. I set my sights on the Tyson who has once again sped ahead of me and is almost to the office. I try to only think of the warmth that will come once we get there, but the drops of rain get bigger and faster. I can start to feel the rain soaking through my jeans and the wind that once felt nice getting cold and icy.
I finally reaching the office I hurry and shift the gears and slow the four-wheeler to a stop. I look up at Tyson who isn’t sure what emotion I am feeling right now and is trying to decided whether he should portray pity for me or laugh at me. I turn off the four-wheeler and take off my helmet. I see relief cross Tyson face as he sees the huge grin on my face. We then run inside and enjoy our lunch while watching the rain fall. As we sit there in silence staring out the window I remember what Tyson’s mother had told me about why she joined in these activities with her husband and kids. “It’s not because I enjoy it, I do it so that I won’t miss one second with the ones I love. It’s so I can make memories with them and not hear about memories they made without me.”
