The healer

How is it that the rush of adrenaline can be so calming?
How is it that the smell of rubber can be healing to the soul?
That sense of being out of control,
And yet being completely in control.
That feeling of being one with the car,
Your legs part of the pedals, your arms
Part of the wheel,
Part of the gear stick,
Your heart pumps with petrol,
Your vision,
The headlights.
All else fades from the mind,
A mere blur,
Nothing exists,
Except the road.
You hear the engine rev
And your breathing slows,
Clutch to floor and slam it to first.
Lights go green,
And its gas to the floor.
Nothing else can beat it.
Faster your heart beats,
And the car takes over,
As you lend it your soul,
Healing all else.