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1976. Egbert had given me a 1970 Malibu. For some odd reason, it was extremely fast. Single traction. One Sunday afternoon, Mark and I were leaving Newberry's house. Mark DEMANDED that I "punch it"... I dropped it in reverse,  squealed backwards and pointed the car towards the Country Club...without touching the brakes, I dropped it in low and floored it. In defiance of the spinning back tire, the car continued to move backwards for 5 or 6 feet... in a millisecond, we were in a cumulus cloud of burning rubber that could  be seen by the forestry department... the sounds were a combination of twisting metal and animals trapped on an electric fence... it was unnatural. Time stood still as the car gently moved side to side like a resting fish, then we lurched forward... smoke, rubber and oil continued to pour from every orifice of the car as we passed the Roger's house... easily exceeding the speed limit by 70 mph. We made two quick lefts and  pulled into our driveway. The cloud of smoke, though dissipating, was hovering over Newberry's backyard as if Truman had been spraying for mosquitoes. Much to my horror, Egbert was standing at the edge of our garden holding a water hose and a glass of sweet tea. His expression was that of disbelief, disgust and anger. As we walked up the back steps, Mark said, "Daddy, see how Jon treats his car?" 

JB Hopkins 2006