Title: Optional

Text: Something happens at around 92 miles an hour - thunder-headers drown out all the sound, engine vibrations travel at a heart's rate, field of vision funnels into the immediate and suddenly you're not on the road, you're in it. A part of it. Traffic, scenery, cops - just cardboard cutouts blowing over as you pass. Sometimes I forget the rush like that. That's why I love these long runs. All your problems, all the noise, gone. Nothing else to worry about except what's right in front of you. Each paragraph will be a test.

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