Fred was driving like a madman up Route 1, winding around the cliffs far above the California coastline. The road turned sharply left and we barely missed the rock wall. We swung wide on the next turn and grazed the bumper of a passing Volkswagen bus. Joe hit Fred again, and I shouted.
"We're all gonna die."
"Fred said "Cool it, I'm a good driver."
Eyes closed, I heard the sound of tires screeching and the guardrail breaking and felt the quease of weightlessness. We bounced down a grassy hill toward water's edge and managed to stop just as the front wheels hit the surf. Steam rose from the front of the car as Joe laughed and pounded the dashboard.
"Awesome driving, Dude," he said.
I told them I'd walk back to the city.
