On the open road, this time an outback road in New South Wales, Australia. The Interceptor is rolling roads again, it is early morning just a little after dawn. The outback air is hot even though it is only just six A.M., the Interceptor (as always) has the side widows down. Now at 125 mph the desert air is whistling around in the cabin, at this speed the air is a mix of compression and noise, as it rips through the interior of the car. Just great blasts of external hot air mixed in with the heat-soaked oil perfumed air radiating back from the bell housing. This is the Interceptor at speed, a world of heat, movement, smell, sound, and of course dashed white lines reflecting the sheer speed. For those of you who have not known it, this world always reminds me of films depicting the cockpit of an old piston engine fighter plane, or perhaps even a Vietnam Gunship, the rotors above sending hot swirling air into that open door compartment behind the pilot.
The Interceptor knows nothing of Gunships or War, it was purposely built for the empty outback roads flanked by fire-red earth, with an endless blue sky above. Home is a white-lined ribbon of endless and eternal black, this is its only and lonely battlefield, here in the empty heartland, far from the crowded lives in the teaming cities, here is the only place where the "Last Interceptor" traveling at greater than 125 mph can make its final stand against politics.
Upon the horizon I see a single vehicle, at this speed the Interceptor is locked dead center of the road, the white lines firing directly under my driver's seat, on the crown of the road the camber is neutral so stability is greater when traveling fast I always aim to lock the car dead center. I also know that at this speed the Interceptor will murder the distance between myself and the distant car. As a precaution I turn on the Interceptor headlights just to ensure the driver ahead has maximum notice of the holocaust approaching him from behind.
To reduce the time lapse at the actual moment of overtaking, I allow the Interceptor more fuel, it responds at first with a gulp, then it starts clawing away at the gap, annihilating time and distance in frenzied activity. The roar in the cabin intensifies, the heat and air compression multiply, although not entirely proportionately to the speed increase. The Interceptor hunkers down and winds up to be easily topping 150 mph when it missiled past the 60 mph John Doe car. The 90 mph speed difference caused the air displaced from the Interceptor to blast into the road space of the John Doe car. This moment of eclipse must have caused a sensor overload in the driver. In my mirror I saw his vehicle rock from the air blasted upon it by the "scud"-like Interceptor. A few seconds later I noticed the passed vehicle slow down and quickly pull away from the road surface, I presume to allow the shell shocked driver time to recover.
