Saturday morning on the Marquam Bridge. I am in the Bimmer, racing up one of the chaotically interwoven lanes, heading towards the east side. I am following the car in front of me as closely as possible, as if in pursuit.
I follow the car that way down the ramp onto I-84 heading east. After a passing a couple exits, I switch to the left lane and push the accelerator down. The Bimmer zooms past the car that I was following. When I'm past it, I slip back into the same lane. Now the roles of pursuit are switched.
The car follows me all the way to the rustic parking facility in north Portland near the airport. Once there, I get out of the Bimmer, leaving the keys in the ignition. I walk over to the other car and get inside it.
"We switched places half-way," I say to Red, once we are at the airport. "Just like Bullit."
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