How fast do you have to drive to escape the suburbs
In the movie version, I start to merge with the car. The shifter grows into my hand, which quickly becomes metal. Wiry tentacles grow out of the back of the seat and attach themselves to my brain stem. My eyes discover a Terminator-like Heads-Up Display, and my foot grows into the accelerator pedal.
My heart beats in synch with the tach and all the gauges register across my face. I’m becoming one with the machine. There’s no telling where the Firebird ends, and I begin. I am the car. The car is me. I am the road. The journey is the destination. There’s nowhere to go and yet, no turning back. There is only the drive, the car and the driver, and all are one.