A Thumbprint In The Sky
Aldridge hit the turnpike with 10,000 pistons firing - it was mechanized fitruinol that night. As the tracker marked his progress, he flew from lane to lane, and then that thousand ampere fuse blew in the tower.
"Hold the line, Louise, I'm coming," he screamed into his coffee - not a drop had spilled since leaving the embankment.
"Your daddy's coming home!" he yelled, and banked it to the left, but when the booster-rocket fired he failed to make shift.
Down, the razor spun and nicked the corner of his ship. Aldridge pulled the stick and ground it to its mother. "You won't get me," he taunted, as he straightened out the tailspin. "Not this time," he told the expeditor.
As his ship recovered stasis, Aldridge grinned and looked behind him. That was when the cindrance tank exploded. In the aftermath of flight, all he left was a reminder: a contrail, a thumbprint in the sky.