Daily Archives: March 7, 2014

Crazy Train? No, Crazy Bike

Daily Prompt: Let’s Go Crazy

Sometimes, we act on impulse: it could be something as small as ordering that special dessert on the menu, maybe asking out that cute boy or girl, or as large quitting your job and selling everything you own to become a shepherd in New Zealand. What’s the most crazy, outrageously impulsive thing you’ve ever done? If you’ve never succumbed to temptation, dream a little. If you gave yourself permission to go a little crazy, what would you do? Photographers, artists, poets: show us IMPULSE.

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Can it be true? Can I have lived my life so sensibly that I cannot recall one moment, one decision, one action which would qualify as subject-matter for today’s prompt, ‘Let’s Go Crazy’?

I must have acted foolishly on some occasion in my long-ago youth. Surely I performed some death-defying, hazardous act which caused onlookers to mumble secretly, “That’s crazy!”


© Motokobiety.pl

“Come on, think, think, think, try to remember a time when you played a practical joke on someone and it backfired,” I cheer myself onward through the dusty corridors of my mind until I see it! There, gleaming in the corner of my memories, just as beautiful and strong as it was the first time I mounted it, Brent’s Harley.

Yes, this was my “Let’s go Crazy” moment, captured safely in time, immortalized in my memory, the most death-defying, crazy thing I have ever done… ‘passengered’ upon a monstrous Harley Davidson down the center lane of a four-lane highway at midnight after closing down the local shit-kickin’ bar with my line-backer-sized boyfriend.


© Free HD Wallpapers

I hung on for dear life as Brent accelerated faster and faster, the streetlights blurred just like a fast-motion-capture photograph. No one was around to snap that photo except for the flash-memories in my mind where I was in that photograph, for that moment, in real life.

Crazy, I enjoyed the exhilaration like nothing I had ever experienced before or since while my typical, responsible, fearful self was nowhere around to scream in panic; no, that part of myself was safely passed out somewhere in my subconscious. Crazy!


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