A Baller's Dream
Sep 7, 2018 · 3 min read

It was 7:30 am. In about forty-five minutes, I had to clock in for another day with the beacons of our future. Before I could do that, a quick and efficient maneuver on the road had to happen. With my left hand gripping the pink and black leopard covered steering wheel, my right hand cradling an enormous fresh baked cinnamon chip flavored muffin, and my right foot pressing down on the accelerator, the soul of Danica Patrick captivated mine.

Changing lanes to shorten the time and the length of the drive always comes naturally to me on the basis of necessity. The morning rush was no different from all the other days. Traffic was a nuisance. Vehicles of…

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A Baller's Dream

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