Not that it really mattered, because with the kind of speed Jesse drove at he would just continue. Everyone knew that stopping was not an option at this speed. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and looked in his rear view mirror in one smooth motion. Jeff was already 30 meters behind him with that barrel of junk of his. It had been a good laugh when his mate scooted by in that dark gray Ford Pinto. When that 1500 kilos of corroding steel got up to speed it wasn't too bad, but you had to be really patient to ever get to that point. Not even mentioning how terrible it was during braking. No, in this city Jesse`s red Volkswagen golf was the king.
It actually was his mums car. She let him borrow it every Friday night. What else could Jesse have done, without a license and just out of jail. that's the only option right? Well then. The traffic lights jump to yellow, signaling to the thundering VW Golf to accelerate a little more. That`s just the way he did it when he wanted to get downtown. It was quick. Until eighteen months ago. It had cost him his black Ford Focus ST with body kits, and his driver's license. And fourteen months in jail. Manslaughter. For fuck sake. With a better lawyer the fucking lawsuit would have gone very different.
But Jesse had to move on. He did not look back. Looking ahead was not his strong point either. Jesse thought, about ten minutes in advance, if he really tried his best. Jesse lived in the present. That was what his lawyer had told him, and that was what Jesse remembered. He liked to say it out loud at parties with a beer in his hand. In some way he felt important as he said it out loud.
The traffic lights were now yellow for about a second . Right across the street was a woman with a child on her bike waiting for the green light. Jesse inhaled some more of his cigarette and then did something he rarely did. He braked. He normally never did. There was no reason for his unexpected action. Jesse had never needed reasons. He simply live in the present. With squealing tires the Vw Golf came to a stop, half a meter over the white line. With his hands clamped on the wheel Jesse looked angrily at the cyclist that had forced him to interrupt his run. But she only had eyes for the dark gray Pinto which plowed into the back of the Golf at 110 kilometers an hour and with 1500 kilos of rusty steel brought Jesse's thoughts forever to a halt.
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