Lie about it, I suppose. It Is fiction.)It was a curvy hilly narrow tarmac with just enough room for passing. No Civic Engineer would have designed it...so ... neither would a City Planner. Some rich Scotsman had it built for his son ... poor lad.It was everything a fledgling race car driver could want stuffed into 40 acres ... not hectares ... acres. Before the dreaded French Measurement. In that 40 acres was almost 3.67 miles of hell.The son ... poor lad ... didn’t care ... clockwise was as. I saygreetings again like you're supposed to! She figures out what I said,then says her greetings far better. I nod my approval to her.I say to her, "There you go your figuring it out!" and I say my name,"Vantier"She says her name was Sara in the equivalent language...and then shestarts adding to it by saying these people know her by another name.Because not everybody is supposed to who she is. The name I gave youfirst, is what everybody knows me by.I nod and say, "Thank you," to herIt takes. More

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