From: Beyond the Pavement

Exhaust and engine sing, the country air shatters before the car like glass, and the gauges dance in their circles. He speeds across the sky, down a rainbow, to the inevitable pot of gold of which he dreams. For in the freedom of flight, of fantasy, he is not the pawn of two old men, nor the family buffer, nor his brother's keeper, but: Mill Sederstrom, blazing the last lap toward the ten thousand dollars, the champagne-filled trophy cup, the Hollywood starlet who will pucker hot, moist lips. He will stand on the car seat smiling for the klieg lights of flashbulbs: the boy champion.