55 mph . . . Shaft is directly behind Honky now, not letting him escape. Honky increases his speed, and Shaft, too, picks up speed. Both are up to 60 mph now, keeping solid pace with the rest of the highway traffic. Beads of sweat form on Shaft's forehead, that then drip down onto his khaki slacks.
Shaft makes a mental note to have the pair dry-cleaned . . .
Honky rolls his eyes and does as he is asked. Shaft follows Honky, braking to a quick hard stop and flicking on his blinking hazards. And then, in a flash, Shaft is exiting the mini-van and sidling up to Honky's car. You want to borrow the sit-down mower. The in-laws are stopping by next week.