Between home and the highway, there's a nasty curve, a left hand ninety that climbs from a subtle incline to a steep uphill.
Coming down this morning, there were skid marks leading to burm busts where three people--or one person thrice--slid backwards after attempting the climb.
On the flats below, I decided to have some fun and punch the WRX.
As soon as the turbo wound up, the wheels broke loose and the world filled with a high pitched buzzing.
I started creeping down the road.
Through third, fourth, into fifth, buzzing morphing into a swarm of attacking mosquitoes, death grip on the steering wheel as I press myself back into the bucket seat.
Look down and the speedo says 120. Adrenaline ups, endorphins start cranking.
Look out and I'm moving at a walking pace.
Oh yeah.
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