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R.P.M.

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The 1994 Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS hurtles south down Cahuenga after midnight, jury-rigged engine exhaling the throaty rasp of an emphysemic Olympian. Urban interceptor, an abandoned rental reclaimed as instrument of revolution. Or at least that’s what 0z0 said the night before as he drilled holes in the muffler to amplify the effect. “We’re gonna free the monster,” he smiled, lighting the welding torch. The car is flat black, a weathered dullness achieved from three years baking in the vacant lot in Van Nuys where Percy found it during one of her periodic treks mapping the secret involuntary parks of Southern California. A putative low-rider that didn’t quite make it,.