gracieford
The contestants are lined up beside me, the other bobcars revving their engines. The skiers to my left give each other smirks, and I see Mike crouched, ready to win.
I flip the switch and turn on my butterfly wheels, and flash the racer on my right a come-and-get-me smile.
The trumpets sound, and I'm gone. I look over and see Mike skiing beside me, the other racers left in our dust. The finish line, seven miles away, glows on my dashboard.
One word passes through my mind.
Triumph.