2 Lamborghini -

He pulled back onto the road and, against all reason, floored the sedan. It groaned and shuddered, but he kept the two Lamborghinis in sight, tiny specks that grew smaller by the second. Then, ahead, he saw them slow down. They pulled over at a derelict gas station—a relic with cracked pumps and a single working soda machine.

“Nope,” the old man said. “Met her twenty miles back. She was doing a hundred and twenty, I was doing a hundred and thirty. Seemed a shame to drive alone.” 2 lamborghini

And three cars—two roaring Italian stallions and one coughing sedan—pulled out onto the empty highway, side by side, chasing the sun toward the fire. He pulled back onto the road and, against

The first was a matte black Aventador, a stealth bomber of a car. The second was a pearlescent white Huracán, clean as a dropped tooth. They weren’t racing; they were dancing. The black one would drift wide, the white one would tuck in close, then they’d swap positions like synchronized sharks. They pulled over at a derelict gas station—a