i race up another slight hillside of more yellow dead leaves and matted pine needles going higher into the tree line at 40 miles-per-hour with the wind blowing my hair from my back and the sun burning more freckles on my skin while neck snapping my face to the right seeing the front porch of becks house as i pass it thinking ill attack from behind going to the back patio pretending to be having a joy ride early in the morning hours on my birthday mobile present since the actworth can hear the buzzing noise of the fifty-ponies inside the motor passing their lawn with eardrums as i giggle with a girly twang .