by Adam J. Whitlatch

The engine's roaring, but I can't hear it over the crunching guitars blaring from all eight speakers; this is what I live for - Heaven is one hundred and fifty-five miles-per-hour. Broken yellow lines blur into one, the landscape on either side of me fading into alternating green and brown streaks of trees and rock. Speed is my drug; hard, fast, face-tightening, gravity-altering, knuckle-whitening, teeth-gritting speed. Flashing red and blue lights flicker in my rear view mirror, issuing the latest challenge, and I smile – I haven't had a decent chase in a long time. Come on, 5-0, let's see what you've got under the hood of that Crown Vic. Fifth gear.


Adam J. Whitlatch still has his first car, a candy apple red 1984 Chevrolet Monte Carlo affectionately named "Red Lightning." He longs for the day when his writing will pay him enough to bring Red out of the barn and back onto the highway where "she" belongs. At eighteen he lost his license for getting sixteen speeding tickets in a year (fifteen of those were in his father's Ford pickup). They couldn't catch the Monte. (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)