Windows down so I can hear the engines 400 horses. The car roars with ferocity. Not going anywhere specific, I have all of the time in the world. Just driving. Just the 67 Camaro and I. Everyone that passes, twisting their neck with their jaw dropped, admiring the car. Staring at the jet-black body with racing stripes going from bumper to bumper. Cleaned to a slick shine, polished to perfection. Each detail, the things that you don’t see on any other muscle car give it character. The speed is unbelievable. Before I know it I’m at 70 mph, I blink and I’m at 80. I keep going, 90. 100, I’m at the point where I can’t tell the colors of the cars I pass. The feeling is great; it’s amazing. I feel as if I have complete control over the world. I am free and nobody can tell me what to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment