Great writing, evocative.

Reminds me of my own youth, burning it up on the back roads of Southland, though I did swerve for animals. Amazing that I made it past 20.

I cut it up rarely these days - not the same on tarmac in suburban Brisbane. Ah well.

(see above)

reminds me of growing up in Colorado, back when dirt roads went on for miles thru dry fields, past decrepit, abandoned farms.

Great story, thanks for sharing.

I lost my brother last year. Every holiday since, after I leave the family enclave and head back to my place, I have this unbearable heaviness of sad, I miss him so much.

Just got home from Easter Sunday feasting and here I sit, reading your story, smiling and tearing up a little.

I'm gonna put on some old school jams, Rick James, Isley Brothers, Parliament, Frankie Beverly and Maze, remember me and Larry sitting on the front porch, listening to WVON and just grooving...

Personal without the polemic, not a shred of self-righteousness or self-importance - just a good, sad story told well. What a nice way to end a Sunday evening. Thanks, Susan.

There is nothing quite like the bond between sister and brother... What a lovely tribute.

I'm sorry for the author's loss, but as someone who grew up on a farm off a gravel road, I don't see anything romantic about speeding down dirt roads. I'm thankful that the people who barreled down the gravel road next to our house only succeeded in killing 2 of our dogs and several cats instead of my brother or myself or my parents. Several of them did manage to kill themselves in car accidents. Some managed to take out other innocent passengers in other cars - I remember one particular accident that killed a grandmother and her 5 year old granddaughter. (The grandmother wasn't speeding but the guy who plowed into her car was.)

Farm roads are full of hazards - slow moving farm equipment, loose gravel or uneven dirt roads, deer and other wild animals, kids riding horses, tall corn crops that block intersections. Typically speed limits are lower on these roads, and they are for a reason.

I've already seen a couple of letters from people reminiscing about their own days of speeding down country roads. I love to drive fast as much as anyone, but I don't because I realize how dangerous it is. I hope others reading this article do as well.

In my youth, I was the wheelman. Loading up a group of my brother's friends, tearing up the local backroads. My first air was in a 1960 Rambler that was more rust than sheetmetal. Speeding is one of the joys of youth, the evocation of that illusory immortality, power and empowerment that comes from the escape from adult supervision and ultimate faith in oneself.

Now that I look back on that time from forty years on, I see I was stupid, stupid, stupid.

But the roads were less crowded, the land was less congested, and we had a path stretching into infinity.

Thank you, Susan Straight, for being a mother who still treasures her life, and takes the moment to recapture those days.

I see no need to excuse unsafe driving, to justify potentially life-threatening maneuvers just so you feel better about your deceased brother. While my heart is certainly with anyone grieving--and knowing full well we're never "over it" and must find ways to remember and connect, I cannot stand by out of respect for the living or the dead and not add my two cents to this.

Find a better way to honor your brother than endangering the lives of yourself and others on the road. There are good, sound reasons why this type of driving should be relegated to movie special effects and is ticketed when observed by police. besides, someone in your financial state may need the car to last a bit longer, to say nothing of your single-parent children who may want their mother around a lot longer, too. Honor his memory by taking better care of yourself.

There is nothing better than good music on the radio and the windows down while driving through the night. Even in my mid 40's I live for driving at night. Two summers ago I drove from Atlanta to Lake Placid. When the evening came and I figured I should be looking for a hotel on the first night I just could not stop. I knew I would spend the evening in front of the TV and so I just kept driving. I covered 930 miles the first day and just made it into New York State. I think it is time for a road trip.

Thanks for sharing your memories.

Everyone is going to write about how they were touched by this. Losing a sibbling, the 80s, smoking dope, music, driving fast. But it is touching and Susan Straight should write a book on this. I am sure there is enough emotion to fuel such an effort.

The last one was on purpose though, to protect a friend, I see. Good that you need to emulate his worst habit, just please make a will or arrangements for your children. Thanks.

Because of a bunch of family members who think this way. Yipee for me. Thanks. Glad you're keeping the world safe for insurance companies.

I still like to leave the ground at that same railroad crossing.

Woo-hoo!

is the coast-to-coast USA driving record, set in 1983 in a modified Ferrari.

Driving fast doesn't kill people; driving dumb does.

A lovely reminiscence of your brother; enjoy your late night road adventures and memories, I have a few I savor myself:

Terminal Tower to Pop's Truck Stop: 38 miles in 19 minutes.

East Side Highway in a 2-litre Datsun Roadster with a 3/4 race cam/headers/side pipes - the traffic miraculously parting like the Red Sea when they heard the exhaust from the race-prepped SRL 311.

My current car goes 145. If they didn't want me to find that out, they shouldn't have built it to go that fast. If you are going to drive fast, there are some things you have to do:

1. no cell phones

2. no eating sloppy cheeseburgers

3. no looking at the passenger when you're talking

4. no changing the stations

5. hands at 10 and 2

6. pay attention

7. If there's a collision in front of you - steer for the point of impact.