I shared a victorious glance with Charlie. “117 ... 123 ... 130 ...” Downhill, on a straight, windows clipped shut and the wind behind us, Team Dizzy had clocked the legal speed limit. That Dizzy herself was a 30-year-old Citroën 2CV, and both Charlie and I were dodging 50 years of age, only added to a laddish excitement that it might reasonably have been assumed we’d outgrown.
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