Here we have a heavy dose of fast-paced roll racing action between some spirited competitors. To those of us who know what it feels like to bust our hump in a 50-hour-a-week gig and then pour our blood, sweat, and tears – not to mention our hard earned cash – into a car that we just want to go faster; there’s something magical about rolling down the highway under the cover of darkness knowing that our ride is running at peak efficiency.

As the cool night air pours over my finely tuned V8, I know that miraculous things are about to happen. I punch the gas and all the struggles that have plagued me during the week are washed away as the g-forces push my head back against the seat and I become one with the machine. I am enveloped in a cocoon formed from the sheer satisfaction brought on by the realization of optimum performance and the drive of the competitive spirit.

As I watch my next victim pull alongside, I feel like an agile beast of prey. I lure him in with the drone of my pipes. Just a little faster – 40, 50, and 60 mph then all Hell breaks loose as someone shouts the charge. The thunder of my open exhaust is shocking, the high-pitched whoosh of my turbochargers is deafening, the wind rushing past my steed as it splits the dense night air is exhilarating and then – as quickly as it began – it is over and I am victorious. Ah, feels grand, and I am on to stalk my next object of prey down Mexico way.

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