Hit the gas. The car rockets forward. Immediately. Instantly. You’re going really fast. Like it decided to skip everything from 2-MPH to 40-MPH and just jumped straight to 41-MPH, didn’t pass go, didn’t collect $200.
That took maybe two seconds. Maybe.
And you’re not even doing anything yet.
Because while you were busy trying to figure out where those two seconds went and where this speed came from, the turbos were busy getting ready to come on stage —
And then they kick in —
And then forget about it.
No really, forget about it.
Sixty miles per hour comes in maybe another second.
And another second after that, hell, who knows how fast you’re going. And another second after that, I think time and space take on different properties. I think I became a rhombus.
And this is the PCH, remember. I only had room in my head for two thoughts:
1. I need to stay on Earth.
2. I need to not hit a telephone pole.