Boyd Jaynes
“BRAAAAAAAAP!” the engine shouted again, like a bad teenager defining limits.
A few more braaps were followed by the click of first gear engaging, then the simultaneous re-roar of the engine and the squealing of monster-fat 335/30 Pirelli Rossos. The first production Foose Hemisfear tore off down the runway as if the place were still the active fighter-jet base it had been eight years before and the wingless hot rod aimed to fly.

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