Alfred C Thompson II

The first step was to remove the tarp from the car. The winter had been long, cold and snowy and the car had waited impatiently on block and under the tarp these many months. The driver had looked longingly at the summer car every time he’d walked through the garage to drive the safe, sensible and boring Saab. Not it was time to drive for the fun of it.

The tarp was folded carefully and placed in the corner of the garage. The bright red exterior seemed dull in the glow of the bare light overhead. The car was carefully lowered the ground with each jack placed on top of the tarp.

The driver carefully inspected the car. The pressure on each tire, which had been replaced before the car was stored for the winter, was checked with an unnecessarily expensive gauge. The pressure on one tire was a little low and that was fixed immediately. The fluids were double checked as if someone might have stolen them over the winter. Finally the driver was satisfied that everything was in order. The garage door was open.

The driver sat behind the wheel, put his key in the ignition. The car started reluctantly, perhaps still waking from its winter hibernation. And then it purred impatiently.

The driver considered a car wash for a minute and then decided that would wait until after the ride. The car flowed out of its winter home anxious to be on the move. The driver pressed one button to lower the garage door and a second to raise the roof of the convertible.

Down the drive way and through the neighborhood streets the drove. The car seemed as eager to cut loose as the driver. The engine sang with power waiting to be used. Minutes later they were on the interstate and the driver pushed the gas peddle firmly. The engine responded in kind and the car easy soared to highway speed. And then it went faster.

The time and highway segment having been carefully chosen, the road was empty. Faster and faster they drove their terminal velocity determined more by the risk of a speeding ticket than by the ability, or willingness, of the engine to move faster. The speed felt good and the sound of the air moving over the open cockpit made it seem even faster.

But the highway speed was exercise only for the engine and not the driver. And not a true test of the cars ability either. Soon the right exit arrived and the driver turned off the highway. First onto a two lane state road and then finally a little used county road.

The river made a hard left turn, thankful there was no oncoming traffic that would have forced them to stop before turning. The tires slid, the rear slightly fishtailing because of the sand still not cleaned off the road. The driver felt the movement, judging everything still under control, felt his adrenaline take a small jump. This was driving.

The road was lined with trees whose branches formed a sort of green tunnel over the road. There were few houses on this road but a lot of turns. The first turns were little more then gentle curves in the road. The car easily flowed around each bend in the road and they drove deeper into the woods.

Here the road followed the curves of the stream that had cut the trail through the wooded hills over the centuries and the road turned more often and the curves were sharper. The driver slowed in the straights and accelerated into the turns. The powerful engine pushed the rear wheel drive around each turn.

The car and driver gained confidence as they remembered how it felt to work together. The posted speed limit went down but the speed they traveled remained constant. Downshifting before turns slowed the car before each turn. Brakes were for beginners and this was an experienced team. The car jumped through each turn using the engines power as much for turning as for acceleration.

One turn was sharper then the driver remembered and the turn took them closer to the ancient concrete posts than either of them was comfortable with. They didn’t slow down though they just changed the angle of attack into the next turn. Downshift; accelerate; up shift on the way out of the turn. The steps felt good. This was driving.

Through a switchback turn, up a hill and down the other side. The sign said 25 but the speedometer said 55. Sweet. Out of one turn and down a hill. What is that on the side of the road?

The driver slowed but he know it was probably too late. Maybe the radar was off. Maybe the officer was on the radio or otherwise involved. It could happen. The flashing blue lights in the rearview mirror soon announced that he was being followed. Faint hope remained as he pulled to the side of the road.

The police car pulling in behind him. The ticket was going to be expensive. But the ride? The ride was worth it.