Paul Harrington's Fate Ride

The first city that I could remember was this one. It wasn't the biggest city in the world, but it was the most memorable one. The buildings were tall, the people were friendly, and I knew my way around this city like the back of my hand. Even though everything changed, even though I had moved on to bigger and better things, I never forgot this place.

I never forgot the feel of the tires squealing against the pavement as I turned into a sharp corner at 80 miles an hour. It felt like home.

I looked down at my speedometer and flashed a smirk. I was going faster than they ever did here back in 1921, when they held their first race here. They called it "The Great American Race" then, but it was just some silly little race where rich people took their fancy cars for a fun ride through Fairmount Park and try to outrace each other or something like that.

It boggles my mind that they let us race here again now - only this time nobody's racing for fun. There's actually prize money on the line! And it's for real money too - not just some pretend prize money like when we used to play as kids or whatever.

This is serious business. It's amazing how far we've come since those days.

Anyway, there aren't any corners left to turn anymore, so I decided to slow down a bit - maybe give my car a rest before I start hitting the straightaways again where I can really open her up again. The road is pretty wide here, so I find a relatively safe spot to pull over next to a thick patch of bushes where nobody should be able to see me while I catch my breath.

Hell of a drive so far...

But then I noticed something off in the distance - something that didn't look right at all:

A sign with red letters flashing bright in front of me: "Stop".