Eleanor

Mag wheels attached to a steel chasse
Holding the beautiful curved body down
Gleaming, bright silver paint
Polished and sanded to perfection
The roar of the V8
A thunderstorm under the hood
The muffler, with its deep rumble
The clutch engages
The transmission engages to show off a smoky burnout
The purr of the engine, RPM racing
The rear wheels slow, gripping the blacktop
She lurches forward
Turning slightly to the right
A slight correction, she’s back on path
Quickly speeding to a point of driver suicide
40 miles per hour
60 miles per hour
80 miles per hour
Gone
Lights flicker in the rear view mirror
A wine from the cars giving chase
Red - Blue - Red - Blue - Red - Blue
Riding the break
The tires losing grip of the road as is speeds into a turn
The rear end slipping, sliding around 
The tires getting sticky from the heat of the road
Eleanor speeds herself to death
Near misses all the time
Attempting to lose her cherry top followers
Darting into an alleyway
Speeding to try to lose authority
A truck pulls out
Tires at threshold
She slides to a stop inches away
The pursuer is now on the same back road
Reversing (lets play chicken) 
She loses, turning into a garage way at the last moment
A near death, a beautiful escape
Reversing onto the main road way, missing cars
She takes off
An accident ahead, cement on one side, cars on the other
A truck moves, a ramp of an auto transport, lies down
Speeding toward the incline
The GT-500 takes off at the crest of a hill
Pushing the accelerator to the floor
Hoping for that extra boost of power, just to get that much farther
Taking flight
Can she fly?
She takes flight
A Shelby Mustang isn’t supposed to fly
She manages to pass the wreckage
Her followers don’t like suicide
They stay behind
Eleanor
The Shelby Mustang GT-500 is gone