The last two pieces to our postings of our No-Prompt Writing Prompt exercise:
Susan’s up:
Of course Bubba, the mechanic, had to specially rig the ol’ Zamboni to run that pace lap. Scraping up the Taldega asphalt would make us a NASCAR enemy for life. But there I was in my souped up version of an Icesurfacer 100 Zamboni waiting for the green flag. She was purring like a kitten and ready to run like a greyhound. Yep, a Greyhound Bus. Just about as big and not nearly as pretty, but she would get the job done.
Behind me the racers gunned their engines and my stomach started quivering. I could see people hollering in the stands, but the growl and screech of forty stock cars behind me drowned them out. The smell of burning oil and gas tickled my nose as I squarely set my racing goggles over my helmet.
I sat watching the numbers count down and the zero surprised me as the green flag popped and my foot pressed hard on the accelerator. The old girl bucked a little, but tore out going a whopping 25 mph! The cars behind me peeled out and braked hard. This was going to be the slowest pace lap in history.
Bev brings it home:
Then I thought – “What is a pace lap and how do I even know what those words mean? Is this a dream?” The ice was there. The crowds were there. The girl from the snack bar, my new wife, was there. And then I wondered why I had married the girl from the snack bar and not the guy who delivered the beer? (smile) This had to be a dream.
I put the racing goggles over my eyes, checked my helmet. I hate helmets. They’re hot and they ruin my hair. Anyway, I checked it to see if everything was okay. This has to be a dream because I heard “Start your engines” and tried to figure out how my race car would go on ice. We were at an ice rink, as I recall.
Then came the biggest question of all: The one that would stay with me for days. The one that has troubled the ages:
What the heck is a Zamboni?
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We hope you enjoyed this crazy project. Let us hear your feedback, thoughts, writing projects you have done, or what you had for dinner last night!
Pat Meyers
www.PatriciaMeyers.com
Paddle Creek Writers 