Free

Windows down so I can hear all 400 horses. Not going anywhere specific or not in a rush. 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. 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 unbelievable. I feel as if I have complete control over the world. Nobody can tell me what to do, I am free.