To think of death is inevitably to think of that person not being physically present anymore. I wasn’t a fan of the Fast and Furious franchise and have only seen the last one (where in hell did they find a runway that long for that airplane scene at the end?) but I will say I was shocked to hear of Paul Walker’s death.
I imagined the events as they evolved: Walker was at a fundraiser and it had just finished. His friend, Roger Rodus, who was driving slid into the driver’s seat and once on the street, had his race driving mode kick in and the accelerator close to the floor. It is a scenario that I am sure Walker had lived through many a time in rehearsals on the F&F set but the car becomes a wildcat and wraps itself around a lamppost, exploding into a fiery inferno.
I thought of the irony of it. And it made me think of my own end and if I will go as poetically.
Jeremy Clarkson, of Top Gear fame, reviewed the Porsche Carrera GT several years back. To know that their tame racing driver, the Stig, couldn’t control it without a bit of practice showed that depth of the car and how powerful it really is.
I can see the beauty in things like bulls, sharks and F1 cars. But I also know that these are things to be treated with the utmost respect. To not do so means that you render your life forfeit. I feel for Walker and Rodus and I hope they didn’t suffer.
I’ll close with one final thought. Paul Walker died in the manner he was most known for and most loved: going fast in a fast car.
Rest in peace.