They are the only ones that excite me. I am the only one who drives them. Three black trucks with black paint and black wheels alike. Three amongst three of its kind. Three masterpieces built by a dreamer. From my garage, I can see them, but mother just sees them as transportation.

Their power is hidden. They roar with delight on the road. They turn right and skid left and burn the tread with each stop, unleashing the beast upon the open world. Unstoppable by the masses.

Forget their designed purpose, take it with a grain of salt. Scream, scream scream, the tires spin while I smile. They burn.

When I am too tired and it is too dark to work, when I am bored and alone, then I drive. While there is no traffic. Three choices to enjoy. Three who’s designed purpose does not align.