Tachophobia- Fear of speed

Tachophobia- Fear of speed



The windshield fogged up, Frank’s field of vision was reduced to a small smudge he had hastily created by dragging his fingers across the glass.

The red Charger behind him filled out the rear view mirror. Frank stepped on the gas. His Contour shot forward, leaving the Charger behind in its wake. Mesmerized with his car’s speed and sure of his course Frank hit the concrete side wall of the track with a smug grin on his face.

Two months of ICU and rehab later, Frank was back at the wheel. He took his Explore to visit his family which lived a hundred miles outside of Daytona. Stopped by the red light on the freeway on-ramp he wondered aloud, “Why is everybody driving that fast? Why isn’t the Highway Patrol pulling people over? There are speed limits on public roads.”

The light switched to green, and he stepped on the gas. Entering the right lane at fifty miles per hour, he was frightened at how fast the scenery zipped past his windows. A car drove up close behind him, honked angrily, and flashed the headlights. Frank stepped on the accelerator, saw the speedometer needle creep up to sixty, and noticed that he held the wheel with white knuckled fingers. He flew out on the off-ramp at the very last moment. Back on the street, he let out the breath he had held in since the other car had honked at him.

Drenched in cold sweat, determined to get back on the freeway, Frank gave the highway another try. As soon as he was dragged by traffic to drive close to sixty, his body was flooded with adrenaline. The bad kind. The kind of adrenaline that makes a person want to flee. He zipped back out at the same exit for the second time. He drove to the side of the road and killed the engine. Head leaning back, Frank closed his eyes and willed himself to meditate. The doctor had warned him this could happen. Aware that being able to push past 130 or 150 miles per hour wasn’t in his near future, Frank noticed frustrated that he hadn’t been able to go faster than fifty seven miles an hour today.

Two hours later he finally drove up to his family’s home. His mother, Margaret, greeted him with a smile and a hug. “It’s good to see you back on your feet. How was the road?”

Frank bit back tears, for a moment he was unable to speak at all. His father, Roger, led him to the kitchen table where he sat down. His hands were shaking when he said, “I wasn’t able to go faster than sixty, if that. I was scared. I’m going to lose my endorsements if I don’t get back into the game. It’s all I know to do. Racing was my life. It is my life.”

Frank’s brother Michael who had not left the parental home yet came downstairs. “Hey bro, how’s it going?”

At that moment Margaret put a plate of chicken ragout in front of Frank. Her gentle brown eyes rested on his face. “Good things take a while. I started cooking yesterday to make this ragout. Give yourself some time to recover from you accident.”

“Mom, racing isn’t like cooking.”

Roger said, “Both take a lot of preparation. You had to learn to drive before you could race.”

Exasperated Frank burst out, “I don’t need to learn to drive. I need to overcome the fear of speed.”

Sipping his after lunch espresso, Michael said, “I could use your expertise in my company.”

“Your video game upstart? You think you’re going to outdo Sega or Nintendo? They’ve been in the game since before you were born.”

“Why don’t you play with me and tell me what you think of the game before you dismiss me.”

The speedometer raced past eighty, one hundred ten, one hundred thirty … Frank’s car nearly flew through the landscape. No car could pass him. Michael’s white and blue machine was far behind and soon Frank saw him in front as he established a lead of a full lap ahead of the pack.

Michael’s videogame was a full success. The addition of the professional level gave his game the edge over his competition and he won a big contract. Instead of racing on tracks, Frank now worked from home. Online customers paid a premium to race him in real time on a virtual track. For being able to slap their advertisements on his virtual machine, oil, tire, and video game console manufacturers kept Frank on their payrolls.



768 words. Prompt: A race car driver that develops a fear of driving faster than 60mph



Written for

ID: 1628956   (Rated: E) Talent Pond Winter X-Games  Winter 2009 X Games! A series of writing events created to challenge and inspire! by Brooke - thanks veterans