Suddenly, Honey froze. "Mark, where's your car?"

Mark, passing her the bag of rolls, casually asked, "Why?"

Honey immediately tossed the bag into the back seat, slammed the car door and clicked the locks shut with her key chain. "They'll recognize my car if we chase them in mine."

Mark's face said it all, as he looked around the parking lot. "We're going to chase someone?"

Honey yelled, "No time, Mark. We've got to go. Where is it?"

"Well, okay." Mark turned around to locate his red Mustang. "Over there."

Honey started walking in that direction. Mark snatched his plastic grocery bag from the cart and charged by her, running.

"Wait, Mark. Don't run. They might spot us."

Mark slowed beside her and matched his pace to her quick gait. "Got it. Whom are we chasing, by the way?"

Honey watched an old green Pontiac exit the parking lot and turn right. "Lonnie Presley and Lyle Denning."

As they reached the back end of his Mustang, Mark said, "Lonnie Presley?"

"Yes. And his sidekick, Lyle."

Mark hesitated by his car door. "Who's going to drive?"

Honey answered, "You are."

"Why?" Mark asked.

Honey looked exasperated. "Because it's your car."

"Oh, yeah." He pulled the car keys from his pocket, unlocked the door, and swooped the grocery bag into the backseat of the Mustang. He got in and reached over to unlock the passenger door.

Honey wasted no time jumping into the low bucket seat and reaching for the seatbelt. "Hurry. There they go. See them?"

Mark inserted and turned the key, flipped on the windshield wipers, and squinted across the parking lot. "Yes, I think so."

"Hurry!"

Pulling back the restored Mustang's floor gearshift to 'D,' Mark pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and shot out of the parking space. Luckily, he had parked far enough away from the grocery store to avoid much pedestrian traffic. He slowed momentarily as a store employee crossed the lot with a long line of shopping carts lassoed together, heading for the front door of the store. Mark waited a few seconds to traverse safely around the store employee.

"Go around!" Honey cried, with her face pushed as far into the front windshield as the seatbelt would allow. "Turn right!"

Mark followed directions, and after lurching into the four-lane street, searched for the green Pontiac. "Where are they?"

"I've got them. I'm not taking my eyes off them. They're two cars ahead of us. But try to catch up."

Mark signaled into the left lane, gunned the gas pedal, and shot ahead of the next car.

"That's good. Stay here."

Finally allowing himself to exhale, Mark clenched both hands around the steering wheel and wiggled deep into his bucket seat for the chase. "Do you do this a lot?" he nervously chuckled.

Honey complained, "Not often enough."

Mark glanced at her face, made even more beautiful by the faint glow of passing streetlights and the excitement of this shared magic moment.