Tires spitting gravel
Laughing out loud with fear and hope
That hides a shining car
Well-weathered leather
Drive like the wind
Before the Motor Law
I leave the giants stranded at the riverside
He says it used to be a farm
I commit my weekly crime
Down in his barn
A brilliant red Barchetta
The scented country air
I fire up the willing engine
As another joins the chase
Across the mountainside
Suddenly ahead of me
Every nerve aware
Sunlight on chrome
At the one-lane bridge
Jump to the ground
Shoots towards me, two lanes wide
To run the deadly race
For fifty-odd years
As excitement shivers up and down my spine
My uncle preserved for me an old machine
Race back to the farm
Hot metal and oil
Run like the wind
Mechanical music
Straining the limits of machine and man
And on Sundays I elude the Eyes
As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline
A gleaming alloy air-car
From a better vanished time
Where my white-haired uncle waits
Go screaming through the valley
To far outside the Wire
Wind in my hair
Adrenaline surge
Responding with a roar
To keep it as new, has been his dearest dream
I strip away the old debris
Shifting and drifting
I spin around with shrieking tires
I've got a desperate plan
And hop the Turbine Freight
The blur of the landscape
