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I was driving along in the center lane at about 60 when a large group of motorcycles passed me on the left. They were very noisy, with handlebars sticking way up in the air. I paid little attention to that, though, as they proceeded on up the highway. We had just crested a small rise when I saw a cloud of smoke and everyone was slamming on the brakes. I saw one of the bikes go sailing, then another and then it was a balled up mess. I jammed hard on the brakes, glancing up in the mirror to see the car behind me was struggling to stop. I thought it was going to hit me in the rear so I let off the brakes, then a car in the lane next to me swerved my way. There was a gap to the right, I turned that way and floored the throttle, jerking the gearshift lever down from 5th gear that I normally run in. I missed and hit second gear I think. The engine suddenly howled and I was slammed back into the seat as the rear tires broke loose but then grabbed. The Corvette shot through the gap and then. September 22nd the autumnal equinox, light and dark in equal measure, a passage from one phase to another. On this day two years ago Steve had pierced my hymen and thrust into me to begin my transition to womanhood. What had been previously empty for eighteen years had been filled that day by Steve’s hardness, his male horn had impaled my eighteen-year-old pussy and shown me the pleasures of being a woman. That day I had begun to learn that a man’s tongue could do so much more than speak and mumble, it could take a woman to heaven and back. This day was supposed to be a day of equality, a day of wonderful memories, and yet I felt as balanced as a teeter-totter. Every passage in life has its pain and heartache and I knew this would be no different. Steve had filled me, but now I felt empty again and something was wrong. For Asians like myself ghosts of every variety were rumored to be loose on this day. In Vietnam on the roadsides my mom says they would be burning offerings to slake.
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