They changed places. The driver’s seat was even lower than the passenger side, the pedals way forward, right against the fire wall. Falcon searched for the seat adjustment, found the small panel of buttons. With a little jockeying around, he set the right position, tilted the wheel down so it almost touched the tops of his thighs. Then, shooting Sly a smile expressing more confidence than he actually felt, he reached forward and turned the key. It was a twin turbo. Even sixty years old this thing was probably a rocket.