The Starter

Next time!

Halfway through her jog, Emilie stood by the road to wait for the traffic to pass before crossing the 4-lane road, an island median dividing the road. The crossing gave her a chance to catch her breath before starting the second half of her run.

A Maserati Levante stopped at the cross walk. Then a Porsche 911 Carrera pulled alongside the Maserati and idled its engine. It, too, waited for Emilie to cross. She knew both models well because she was a bookkeeper in a luxury car dealership nearby and got to observe them up close.

She looked the cars over and decided in her mind which would win in a head-to-head race: the Maserati. She really had no idea which would win in a real race, but threw caution to the wind and stepped out in between the cars about 10 feet away, and back to the top edge of the cross walk.

Emilie held both hands in the air, pointed to the driver in the Porsche, and the driver revved its engine. She pointed at the Maserati and the driver also revved his engine. While she held up her hands, both vehicles continued revving their engines.

On the third long rev, a police squad pulled in behind the Porsche and chirped its siren twice as a warning. The Porsche driver saw the squad in his rear view mirror, and so he stopped pretending he was set to race.

The Maserati driver, on the other hand, hadn’t looked in the mirror and still continued to rev.

Emilie dropped her arms, not as a starting signal, but because her arms were getting tired. The Maserati burned rubber for 30 feet before putting the vehicle into second gear and then quickly, the driver hit the brakes. He now saw in the mirror what the other driver had seen before they started.

The police officer went around the Porsche and pulled in behind the Maserati, his lights now flashing. No siren needed.

The Porsche man pulled up to the Maserati man who was now negotiating with the officer.

“Next time,” the Porsche driver said, slowing just enough to say it.

“You’re on.”

And Emilie, well, she was already a block down the street, not looking back at the race that never was.

*******