My boyfriend Sal is a monster truck racer. He races those big trucks that you see on television. Sometimes they jump over mounds of dirt or even over cars. Sometimes he doesn't have to jump over anything, he just has to go in a circle to see who can do it the fastest. If you can't tell, I don't know all of the racing terminology. All I know is, what it looks like he is doing. I do know, he is damn good at what he does. I've heard people say that he is the best they have ever seen. I don't know about that, but I do know that Sal is good at what he does.

“Go Sal! Kick their asses!” I yelled as I watched Sal go around the track.

I think he heard me, because he waived at me. I waived back, but I don't think he saw me. He was going way to fast to pay attention to anything that I was doing. Not only that, but if he was paying attention to me, that would have meant that he wasn't paying attention to the guy he was racing against. I know how competitive Sal can be, so I doubt that was the case. I couldn't believe my eyes, Sal had won the race! That meant that he only had one more race to go. If he won that, he would be the big winner of the night.

I ran into the pits and greeted Sal. I kissed him on the cheek and patted him on the ass. I pat him on the ass because I see guys doing it on the sports channel. I don't know why they do it, but I also don't know why I do it. I guess I do it to fit in, if that makes any sense. Sal glowed with the energy of a million light bulbs. I kissed him again and he smiled at me. I could feel his happiness deep inside my body. I stood watching him glow, trying to think what I should say next.

“Honey, I've got to get ready for the next race,” Sal said as he gave me a kiss.

“Okay,” I replied.

“I'll talk to you after I win the big one.” Sal said with a smile.

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