Auto racing is boring except when a car is going at least 172 miles per hour upside down.
“One morning, about four o'clock, I was driving my car just about as fast as I could. I thought, Why am I out this time of night? I was miserable, and it came to me: I'm falling in love with somebody I have no right to fall in love with.”
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The car has become the carapace, the protective and aggressive shell, of urban and suburban man.