Voltaic Junkyard--8-Cylinder

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--8-Cylinder"
   
   Adam's Dad told him:  "Boy, put a V-8 in any car; next, it's hard to beat."  What did Adam care, a Shakespearean cynic now, torn down by a society self-driven to copulate with artificial life, and even androids can nag you.  And while he respected his old man's energy, he wanted the super-charger on the 6-Cylinder Buick Grand National to come alive, for in the 1980's--it owned the asphalt till 60, and then some.  Good for making a playboy look cool in the city.  Everything wasn't Big Block Highway and the heavy muscle of an SS 454 breaking the pavement barrier.  
   Adam had a light-heart weighed by Divine Dogs; still, the world crushes the nice guy, and Adam had not the control of Sheila's sophisticated gel with the smooth spark.  Dude was freaked, not by things quoted as metaphysical, yet by the people, ignorant of anything around them--so internal, yet suffocating themselves with denial of all the energetic fields.  The Book says:  "We perish for lack of knowledge."  Some do.  Some know too much.  And the PRICE IS RIGHT will never be the same without a black-belt at the helm. 
   And, as if just to tease her brother, Adam heard Sheila call, and had an image of her grinning sweetly:  "Come on down."
   Ah hell, gotta spin the wheel.