Shaken, Rattled, and Rolling

You cruise to a gentle stop at the red light. It's the end of the work day. You're looking forward to leftover lasagna, two hours of Netflix, and if the heat sticks around, a shower before bed. Traffic has been lighter than normal for a Thursday which is a nice contrast to the stress of working all week for a company that doesn't care about you.

A white mini-cooper eases up next to you on your left. A hard-faced blond stares at you so hard that you almost miss the fact that she is wearing a white racing helmet. Her left eye twitches and she slides a dark visor down over her face and nods once.

You're not a racer. You don't even like to speed. But somehow her challenge electrifies something inside you. A voice you don't recognize comes out of your mouth. "You're on."

The green light explodes into existence and the mini-cooper hurtles forward in a squealing of wheels. You're less than a second behind her, pushing every limit.

Your car responds to the lightest touch and feels more alive than it's ever been.