Excerpt:

The rain pounded down from a bruised-purple night sky like splinters of sheet glass, but the big car punched through, steaming and snarling, its 265 cubic inch motor hungrily sucking air and fuel through triple carburettors and spitting raw fiery power down through its wide wheels to the slick bitumen falling away behind. Rooster-tails of water flew up from the rear tyres, sparkling flame-like in the angry glow of the red taillights before dropping back to the roiling, frothing surface of the road. A blur of white posts ticked away off to the side; no sooner had the headlights’ beam found them through the downpour than they were gone again, fallen from existence with the passing of the restless light.
The driver’s gaze swung back and forth, scanning, anticipating; knuckles white around the wheel, the thrum of the car’s leonine heartbeat pulsing through feet, legs, gut, chest. The mad tattoo of the wiper blades sounded out a rhythm in synch with the driver’s own pulse; in the eye of a storm of sound - the engine’s howl, the wiper’s tap, the rain’s clatter – the driver sat, cool and dry and deafened most of all by the pounding in her own head.