Henry's Car
Lazo Ferran
Copyright © 2010 by Lazlo Ferran
All Rights Reserved.
“God’s body man, giveth me the 4th gear! Now!”
“Fucking press the damned clutch you madman!” I shouted back over the reverberating din of the V8 Chevy block, attempting some humility and knowing ‘damned’ was the only swear-word King Henry VIII would actually acknowledge.
The large pallid face broke into a toothy grin. “Raymond. You are an impertinent, what is the modern phrase, jackass, but I like you!” His big foot, somewhat incongruously contained in a size 14 Nike trainer, pressed clumsily down on the accelerator and I slammed the gearstick into 4th. A moment later, the King, hunched over the royal Sparco steering wheel, turned the car to the left. As dirt spurting from the drifting rear wheels, we emerged from the turn, I realised we were actually going to finish in third place. Not yet a win but for a man new, not only to the sport but to the century, it was not a bad effort. Henry roared his approval as we crossed the line.