“The warning signs are part of the thrill, sir,” James said as he opened the car door for me. “It’s like skiing down a mountain. You’re scared shitless, dodging moguls, the wind whipping through your hair, and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Before you realize it, you’re at the bottom and you don’t remember the fear. Only the exhilaration.” I gaped. “Good grief, James… You’re a romantic.” “I’ve been told, sir.” “A question: what happens if, while you’re racing down the slope, you hit an ice patch, go veering off course and slam into a tree?” “In that case, you hope the ride was worth
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