500 horses

How is this possible he wondered? The toast popped up, he took the slightly burnt sourdough out of the toaster, buttered both pieces, a liberal application of honey: sweet and crunchy goodness. Glorious, glorious carbs. He put his hands on the edge of the marbled countertop, bowed his head as if he was had to collect himself before passing out. Perhaps if spotted through the kitchen window one could be forgiven for assuming prayer, though neither was the case. No, not the case at all. He took a bite. The toast crunch was loud as he chewed. His brain was loud as he tried and tried to remember if he had ever experienced that feeling before. He must have, mustn’t he, I mean he’d been driving for what, Christ, 33 years now?And nothing came close to touching it. The low growl of the engine as he pressed the ignition button, a growl that if he heard it in a parking lot he would be like “hey, what now?!?” 500 horses. 4 liter. 8 cylinders. Twin turbo. 0-60 in 4 seconds flat. Every component in the car doing exactly the thing it should be doing at exactly the time it should be doing it. That feeling of pushing the right foot on the accelerator, zero lag, the further you pushed the faster you went. Closing on cars, riding up on vehicles that seconds ago he could just barely make out in his lane. Cornering up the on ramp, the car hugging the pavement, like it was afraid to let it go. Perhaps, he wondered, he had come close? Close to feeling this before, behind the wheel? One time? A long time ago? No, not once. Not ever. Never!