Old Memories Are Like Hairballs

Have you ever had those types of days where you just go and relive childhood memories? Playing vintage games, watching old movies and just wanting to play with that Lego you have packed away? Well I have had those types of cravings since I have gotten home, so what did I do? I did what any respectable man should do, I fed those cravings until they were stuffed and were screaming uncle. Let me tell you a bit about it...
When me and my brother were little we got a Sega Genesis. Now with this system we got many games like NHL '97, Sonic the Hedgehog and many others. however, none were played as much as Road Rash 3. This game was wonderful, well made and was addicting beyond all belief. You played a motorcycle biker and you raced fourteen others in a race that had no rules. However, they had weapons (which you could steal) and police roamed the roads in cars, helicopters and on motor bikes. Your bike could blow up if you damaged it too much or you could get arrested and fined. On top of this you had to dodge road signs, animals (stupid cows!) and road traffic.
Now if you understand the surrounding events you'll realize the reasons why we got so mad and stressed over this little silly game. We were young, the controllers were cordless and prone to lose the signal, the TV was small and our idea of the game was shallow. However, being the adventurous kids that we were, myself, Derek and Dustin (just because he was over so much) came up with many different ways to compacts our overwhelming level of suck. And I mean suck. We sucked more than a good vacuum cleaner, and thats pretty bad. Anyways, Dustin came up with a miraculous idea to solve our lack of driving skill: A magic eraser. This eraser would be used to stroke the back tire of my bike before a race to give me added grip and to help me gain luck that I would otherwise lack.
Now this was also a big team event. We all took turns playing the game, especially if you crashed or got busted early. However, if you were lucky enough to finish a race in first place or do extraordinarily well during a race then you could be rewarded with another go for the next race. As the levels went on they got faster, longer and harder. As kids we never got past the 3rd level, and just getting there was a full day. You see, the Sega had no memory card to save the games, so we had to keep going for hours on end.
Now when I came home last Sunday I planned to relax and play some XBOX. However, when I saw my brother playing Road Rash yet again I was flooded with painful memories of failure and anger at the cops and cows that were the cause of these failures. I decided to team up with my brother and finally put an end to the madness that this game brought us. We started this game up on Saturday and this would not come to a close until Sunday evening.
I started the game while Derek was at a practice in Mont Nebo, and I quickly finished off the first level. However, I forgot to save lots of money and the second level was too close for comfort. On levels three and four the two of us saved money left right and center before buying it: yes, we bought the $40 000 bike. This behemoth was incredibly fast and had tons of NOS to use when you were in dire need. We reached level five, the level that was supposedly the last level on the game. We raced and lost many times as the races were three times as long as they were on level one. Police swarmed the roads with roadblocks and your opponents would punch, kick, hit, or mace you until you fell off your bike. Not very nice so we retaliated with our own little club, but the damage that did was minimal. Then lady luck smiled on us and we won two races back to back, surely the next three races would follow quickly. Not so.
As we went back to our losing ways we desperately searched for a way to keep money instead of losing it. We tried driving nice (the helicopters ran us off our bikes) and we tried being nasty (we got beaten up). We managed to qualify in Italy and then there were only two places left: The United Kingdom and Kenya. Derek took over and with seat pouring off his brow (along with mine) he raced like his life depended on it. Sixteen hours of sweat and tears had been poured into this game and he wasn't going down without a fight. We twisted and turned from the evil heathens driving the other bikes but as he rounded a corner something hit him and destroyed his bike! Derek screamed and kicked out, and his foot made contact with the controllers cord, which pulled on the game system and threw it down. The game had stopped, we had failed to pass level five! Oh the wailing in the house was great and mournful! Never before had we been so far, and we may never have time for such craziness again! However, we both must keep a stiff upper lip and press onward, so onward I go to watch a hockey game.