She tensed her shoulders to hold herself into the bucket seat. Almost new tires whined slightly each time they contacted paint, they slipped slightly when they found sand. She never felt danger. She was too focused, too involved to feel anything but g force. Down shift, tap the brake, smash the accelerator, jam it into a higher gear and follow the line that made the road the shortest. She caught his taillights three turns ahead. Inspired she pushed harder, let the tires wash a little into the turns and pulled out with a faint squeak from the rear tires. Downhill now, the curves softened, she could see four turns ahead, his Midget was the only other car. Her car hopped a little to the right when the banking changed, she tapped the brake and gripped the stearing wheel a little tighter, she could see where she would make the pass. Right, left, right, left, right again and then she dropped down into the left lane, hugging the side of the mountain. Forced to stay in the right lane the Midget lost traction to its rear end and he was forced to brake, five hundred feet and she could no longer see the little olive green car in her rear mirror.