I found the lever and moved the seat, then adjusted the mirror, then sat there for a second with my hands on the wheel and my heart going harder than it had gone during the entire Peterson session.
"Pedal on the right," Vale said.
"I know which pedal."
"Just being thorough."
I put it in gear. Eased off the brake. The car crept forward and the whole chassis leaned into the motion like a big animal shifting its weight, and I took it out of the hospital loop at fifteen miles an hour with the concentration of a man defusing a bomb.
Then we hit the surface road and I gave it a quarter of the throttle and eight hundred horsepower of American engineering unloaded through the rear tires, and the back end stepped out three inches before the traction found itself, and I laughed out loud like an idiot.
"There it is," Vale said.
"This thing is obscene."
