I take a box of cereal out of the pantry, open the top, and begin to pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Chex. My eyes squeeze shut as my mouth opens involuntarily, and, mid-yawn, I hear a strange noise. The sort of sound one doesn’t usually hear coming out of cereal boxes.
Looking down into my bowl, I see a small toy racecar that sets off a riot of childhood memories. Since when did 21st Century cereal come with toys actually inside the bag? I hadn’t even noticed the advertisement on the front of the box when I bought it.
I pick up the car and unwrap it, set it down on the counter. I test out the plastic suspension with a little pressure. Seems sturdy enough. I push it back and forth, the mini-wheels squealing with the delight of their first taste of solid ground. Cereal forgotten, I shift into drive and peel out on the slick Formica.
Cruising past flour and sugar jars, my bright green car hugs a hairpin turn past the knives at 150 mph. The tires screech and twist with a few simple turns, and I’m defying the laws of gravity for a few breathless moments, riding apple and pear wallpaper and leveling off again to retrace my melted rubber tracks.
This isn’t enough! Faster and faster, I’m pressing the pedal to the floor and aiming for the wooden edge of the wide-open road. There’s no purple-faced boss here to tell me to get back to work. Flying on the ground, free of cubicles and paperwork, I am enjoying my life for the first time in years. My teeth grinding against each other, lips pulled back into a dangerous snarl as I fling my near weightless vehicle off the edge and into the sunrise. This is it! This is what I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life!
The small car hits the floor and lands on its back, wheels spinning like the kicking heels of an overturned beetle. I pick it up, set it next to my bowl, and pour milk over my cereal. I dig in with a satisfied smile. Today, I will quit my job. I mean it. This time, I will do it for real.
Bemused