We flashed under the wire, then pushed around and through the far turn without checking speed in the slightest. Now she was flying up the back stretch, and although I knew we were traveling just a bit over 30 miles per hour, it sounded and felt more like a hundred. I slowed her toward the end of the staightaway and brought her to a halt beside Fossel. Only then did it occur to me that she hadn't once broken into a gallop the whole way around.
"You'll have to try it in traffic one of these days," Fossel said, smiling. "There's nothing quite like it, especially with Ray Messer trying to cut in on you at the corners, and Bernie Parker howling like a banshee in your ear."
"Sure," I answered, grinning back at him. What the hell. When you're in love, you'll do anything.