we’d hit the salt flats
near Whitewater, north of Bonnie Bell. We can put this baby through its paces
there.”
“Salt flats? Let’s do it.”
* * *
At Bonnie Bell, Clay exited the
freeway and drove into a canyon that opened into the broad, flat bowl of a
dried-up lake.
“I never knew about this place.”
“Not a lot of people do.”
There wasn’t a soul in sight. Just
white crust and gray-brown mountains.
Clay stopped the car. The engine
purred. “Okay,” he said, “here goes nuthin’.”
Clay flicked the paddle shifter on
the steering wheel and let the clutch snap. Lara felt like she’d been shot from
a gun. The car was a sensual cornucopia. G-forces pressed her into the seat.
The pistons wailed. She tasted salt on her tongue. The tachometer flickered as
it tickled the red zone—nine-thousand rpm—each time Clay shifted.
As the car screamed past ninety
mph, Lara closed her eyes and imagined they were on the verge of flying. And then Clay deposited the car into sixth and jammed the accelerator to the floor.
Forces and decibels multiplied, and in a blink of an eye, they were doing
one-ninety-three.
Lara checked the side-view mirror.
It occurred to her that she should be frightened by the sight of dust billowing
behind them. But as the ride pushed into atmospheres Lara had never
experienced, she felt stimulated in new ways.
Clay slammed the brakes. The car
decelerated rapidly but smoothly as he steered it into a perfect one-eighty,
easing up on the brake a touch at the end to bring the car to a stop as soft
and gentle as a silk baby blanket.
“Wow!” Lara exclaimed.
“Ready?”
“For what?”
“To take your turn.”
Lara’s jaw dropped. “I can’t—”
But Clay had already turned off the
engine, bounded from the vehicle and zipped around to open Lara’s door.
“Can’t what?” he said, reaching in
to help her climb out.
“You had to apply just to get the
car.” Clay had already guided her halfway around to the driver’s side.
“I gave them their money. I can do
whatever I want with it.”
“What if I…?” Lara dug in her heels
as she peered into the supercar’s cockpit.
“What?”
“Crash!”
“Look around.” Clay spread his arms
wide. “What’re you going to hit? A mountain?”
Like that’s not possible.
Lara eased into place behind the
semicircular wheel. Leather trim made the curved top feel alive; the
squared-off bottom looked like something out of Star Wars.
Clay jumped into the passenger seat
and buckled his seat belt. “Okay. Let’s see what she’s got.”
Me—or the car?
“But I’ve never driven anything
like this before,” Lara said.
“You went to all those races.”
“And sat in the stands.”
“Just have fun. It’s the only
reason a machine like this exists.”
Easy for you to say.
Lara checked the mirrors and
nervously opened and closed her fingers on the steering wheel.
“Really,” Clay said, “it’s not much
different than whatever you normally drive.”
Yes, it does have an engine and
four wheels—just like my crappy Taurus.
“You haven’t seen what I normally
drive.”
“It’s got an engine and four
wheels. Just give the engine some gas and point the wheels where you want them
to go.”
Another of her dad’s isms.
“Um, these things…” Cringing at the
thought of sounding like a dumb girl, Lara pointed to the paddle shifters on
either side of the steering wheel.
“You can use the stick if you
want.”
“I’m a little out of practice.”
“No problem.” Clay pressed a button
on the console and a knob rose into view, as if they were in a James Bond
movie. Clay turned the knob until it pointed to the word “Auto.”
“That should work.”
Lara nodded as she depressed the
starter switch. The car howled to life. Just tapping the gas pedal made it
growl like an animal. An animal she controlled—she hoped. She gripped the wheel
and stroked the leather. She took a deep breath and shifted the
near Whitewater, north of Bonnie Bell. We can put this baby through its paces
there.”
“Salt flats? Let’s do it.”
* * *
At Bonnie Bell, Clay exited the
freeway and drove into a canyon that opened into the broad, flat bowl of a
dried-up lake.
“I never knew about this place.”
“Not a lot of people do.”
There wasn’t a soul in sight. Just
white crust and gray-brown mountains.
Clay stopped the car. The engine
purred. “Okay,” he said, “here goes nuthin’.”
Clay flicked the paddle shifter on
the steering wheel and let the clutch snap. Lara felt like she’d been shot from
a gun. The car was a sensual cornucopia. G-forces pressed her into the seat.
The pistons wailed. She tasted salt on her tongue. The tachometer flickered as
it tickled the red zone—nine-thousand rpm—each time Clay shifted.
As the car screamed past ninety
mph, Lara closed her eyes and imagined they were on the verge of flying. And then Clay deposited the car into sixth and jammed the accelerator to the floor.
Forces and decibels multiplied, and in a blink of an eye, they were doing
one-ninety-three.
Lara checked the side-view mirror.
It occurred to her that she should be frightened by the sight of dust billowing
behind them. But as the ride pushed into atmospheres Lara had never
experienced, she felt stimulated in new ways.
Clay slammed the brakes. The car
decelerated rapidly but smoothly as he steered it into a perfect one-eighty,
easing up on the brake a touch at the end to bring the car to a stop as soft
and gentle as a silk baby blanket.
“Wow!” Lara exclaimed.
“Ready?”
“For what?”
“To take your turn.”
Lara’s jaw dropped. “I can’t—”
But Clay had already turned off the
engine, bounded from the vehicle and zipped around to open Lara’s door.
“Can’t what?” he said, reaching in
to help her climb out.
“You had to apply just to get the
car.” Clay had already guided her halfway around to the driver’s side.
“I gave them their money. I can do
whatever I want with it.”
“What if I…?” Lara dug in her heels
as she peered into the supercar’s cockpit.
“What?”
“Crash!”
“Look around.” Clay spread his arms
wide. “What’re you going to hit? A mountain?”
Like that’s not possible.
Lara eased into place behind the
semicircular wheel. Leather trim made the curved top feel alive; the
squared-off bottom looked like something out of Star Wars.
Clay jumped into the passenger seat
and buckled his seat belt. “Okay. Let’s see what she’s got.”
Me—or the car?
“But I’ve never driven anything
like this before,” Lara said.
“You went to all those races.”
“And sat in the stands.”
“Just have fun. It’s the only
reason a machine like this exists.”
Easy for you to say.
Lara checked the mirrors and
nervously opened and closed her fingers on the steering wheel.
“Really,” Clay said, “it’s not much
different than whatever you normally drive.”
Yes, it does have an engine and
four wheels—just like my crappy Taurus.
“You haven’t seen what I normally
drive.”
“It’s got an engine and four
wheels. Just give the engine some gas and point the wheels where you want them
to go.”
Another of her dad’s isms.
“Um, these things…” Cringing at the
thought of sounding like a dumb girl, Lara pointed to the paddle shifters on
either side of the steering wheel.
“You can use the stick if you
want.”
“I’m a little out of practice.”
“No problem.” Clay pressed a button
on the console and a knob rose into view, as if they were in a James Bond
movie. Clay turned the knob until it pointed to the word “Auto.”
“That should work.”
Lara nodded as she depressed the
starter switch. The car howled to life. Just tapping the gas pedal made it
growl like an animal. An animal she controlled—she hoped. She gripped the wheel
and stroked the leather. She took a deep breath and shifted the
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