I chucked a sportscar around the track today. With a professional instructor.

Seven years of mumsy driving. An hour of touching 150mph and they disappeared.

Lap after lap, things got better, I got faster, and I got bolder.

He sat next to me, and said less and less. Instructions became compliments.

I remembered what I used to know, the way I used to drive. My job, and the life I once led. I felt the V10 engine behind me like an animal ready to pounce. My joy took my breath away. I made love to that car for two hours.

Then I pushed the extreme button, the butterfly opened and the gear change quickened, ratios shortened. Things got scarier. At every up-change I felt a kick up my loins; at every downchange, a surge into them.

I think I had an orgasm.