Posted: August 3, 2020 in: Pain-2-Power

Hellcat Lives Matter

I am taking a break from telling you how to live powerful lives to tell you a story that I think might inspire you to have confidence in life today, despite all the conflict we see erupting in the world around us, including demonstrations and protests and statues being torn down and buildings being burned.  It might give you a little confidence that we are more connected to one another than many of us might think.

The story unfolded just a few days ago.  I was driving on Route 95 outside Boston, MA.  There was almost no one else on the highway.  I love my car—a sparkly, deep blue Jeep Grand Cherokee Trackhawk (It looks pretty much like any other Grand Cherokee, but it has a 707 horse power Hellcat engine under the hood, so it can accelerate from zero to 60 mph in 3.5 seconds).

That day, I happened to look to my left and, all of a sudden, saw a purple Dodge Challenger Hellcat right next to me, which has the same engine.   I figure the chances of that happening might be one in about ten million.  The driver was a young black man—maybe 25 years old—with an Afro haircut.  I have no hair, so he had me beat there, but I had the same engine as he did.  The Hellcat.

Anyhow, this young man looked over at me and nodded at my car.  And I looked over at him and nodded at his car.  We drove about twenty yards right next to one another, looking over to admire one another’s vehicle another few times.  But then, we not only made eye contact, again, but we smiled at the same instant and chuckled.  And that’s when, without any other signal exchanged, we both accelerated to _____ miles per hour.  I won’t say how fast we ended up going.  I don’t want to get arrested.  Let me say this, though:  Driving a Trackhawk is lots of fun.  Driving one beside another car with a Hellcat engine is . . . sublime.

The whole thing lasted maybe 30 seconds.  By the end of that time, the two of us were both laughing.  I ended up taking my exit just a little bit later, and he drove on, headed south.

Now, I don’t want to make too much of it, but I don’t think that I am:  I am White and 58-years-old.  The other guy was Black, in his twenties.  But none of that mattered.  None of it.  What mattered was quintessentially American—those 6.2L supercharged Hellcat engines housed inside American-made muscle cars.  It was enough to erase all the differences between us, at least for those moments.  And since it did, you have to ask yourself just how impossible it really is to bridge those differences.

I hope that guy reads this piece or that I see him again on the road.

 

Dr. Keith Ablow

    

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