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The God of Driving

The God of Driving

How I Overcame Fear and Put Myself in the Driver's Seat (with the Help of a Good and Mysterious Man)

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As a top correspondent for Vanity Fair magazine, Amy Fine Collins leads a glamorous life, a charmed whirlwind of gala parties, couture clothing, and five-star travel. In Manhattan, where she is whisked around in taxis and limousines, she has been able to disregard her long-standing fear of driving, a legacy handed down from her accident-plagued family. But when the brilliant and determined Amy finally decides to confront her driving phobia, she does not foresee how far from her elegant turf this resolution will take her.

A mysterious, good-looking Turk named Attila is dispatched to her doorstep in a dual-brake Acura, and in him Amy discovers not only a superhumanly skilled instructor but also a wise, patient, and capable man who, inexplicably and irresistibly, over the course of their yearlong lessons, begins to transform and transport her.

Both a compelling portrait of an elusive, charismatic hero and an inspiring adventure story, The God of Driving recounts the evolving relationship of Amy and Attila as they zoom in and out of urban interstates and country byways, as close to home as Park Avenue and as far away as Hamburg -- in muscle cars, turbocharged Bentleys, and hang-on-for-your-life motorcycles. And while Attila is completely changing her life, Amy is entirely remaking his, prompting him to uncover -- and redeem -- his shadowy past. Vibrant and funny, The God of Driving is an offbeat, romantic odyssey -- a true-life tale of unlikely soul mates who bump into each other at the crossroads of high gears and high style.
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  • Simon & Schuster | 
  • 352 pages | 
  • ISBN 9781451631692 | 
  • January 2011
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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One: It Shouldn't Happen to Us

This is the recurrent nightmare:

I am inside my father's Morris Minor convertible, scarcely filling the driver's seat, and the oyster gray automobile is hurtling, helter-skelter, down a steep hill.

My hands can neither hold the steering wheel nor grasp the stick shift, and my feet dangle uselessly, high above the pedals. The car is going so fast I am unable to see anything through the windows except a rushing, murky blur, a whizzing smudge of motion.

The dream has no beginning or end, just movement and terror.

The nocturnal scenario is now unreeling in broad daylight, in... see more

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