never autonomous like driving a car and masochistic

Fast is young. Speed and flash! suggest fleeting youth, its brevity and abandon, so if I'm reveling in the vibrations from the pedal to my pelvis, I'm welcoming my mortality. While curiosity lets anyone's eyes wander from the road and to the street post, guard railing, or boy scout troupe at the corner, it takes masochism to start convincing yourself that the crash would be worth it. I convince myself often while driving, but I pull back when I consider the little pleasures I take with each day, whether I recognize them or not, and that however decrepit I may become, this car will always be able to crash at speed.