A smile creased her face as she pressed her foot down, feeling the vehicle respond to her request with a restrained eagerness. A quick lane swap and she pulled around a pair of SUVs who seemed to be doing their best to become a rolling 70 mph roadblock, a mere obstacle to be avoided as she squirted past, smoothly accelerating to 90 mph with a blue BMW right on her heels. She pulled aside to let the speedster behind her pass, maintaining her pace until he was almost 1/3 mile in front of her.

Mrs. Dirksen said to Mom, after we’d given the waiter our drink orders, “Erin, I don’t think you should be letting Tyler use the ladies' room.”

 

“Do you seriously think she should use the men’s room?” Mom asked incredulously. “The machine changed her completely into a girl.”

Webster’s dictionary defines Speed as the fallowing: the rate of change of position along a straight line with respect to time over a set distance. In other words, the quicker you can get from one place to another. The question is what do you do, when your family has spent the last two generations in search of ways to accomplish this goal faster and faster. Would do you do when the family business is the search for more Speed. For Robert ‘Robby’ McGuire the answer is easy. You grab your sister and strap on a pair of Formula One racecars then go for broke.

 
Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Chapter 8 - Confusion

Confusion. A fine old word, comes from the Latin confundere, meaning mingle together. Now there's a concept that describes a young crossdresser - or maybe trans-something - if there ever was one.

One of my least favourite duties as Sheriff, was notifying people that one of their loved ones had died. It is was local then they’d often already know of a death and my arrival would be the confirmation. Occasionally, the death may have happened on the other side of the world and it was down to local law enforcement to do the deed.

Normally I’d go on this task accompanied by a female deputy but on this particular day, Sue-Ellen and Kelly were away helping the State Police on an operation in a neighbouring county so it was left to me to head out to the Wilson Farm to give them the bad news. The other bit of a downer for me was that their home was on the far edge of the county and the last ten miles of the journey is along a dirt road that hasn’t seen a grader for fifty years. Such is the lot of a County Sheriff.