Do you remember the first time you discovered the real meaning of the phrase, "flying down the road?" From my perch in the back, I hung casually over the front seat, my elbows crooked up under me, my head swiveling back and forth between my older sister and her friend, David. As I did my best to look cool, David maneuvered the torpedo of a car up the hill of a narrow residential road near our house. He leaned back like a man in control, his left arm extended casually to the top of the wheel…
