As the Flying Car rose into the air, the crowd on the ground erupted in cheers. Stark stuck his head and arm out the window and waved at them. The bright sunlight turned his hair a glittering gold before he rather reservedly settled back into his seat, gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and gently pressed the accelerator.
Schiller felt a powerful force shove him back into his seat, and then the car shot off with a whoosh. Peter yelled, and by the time he came back to his senses, they had already reached the other side of Central Park.
"The brakes are way too loose, Tony!" Peter still looked shaken. Even after the speed had dropped, he took a breath and said, "The power seems a little excessive. We should install a speed limiter."
"What are you afraid of? There aren't any other aircraft in the sky anyway. Going a little faster won't hurt."
"But you have to understand, not everyone is like you, flying around at high speed every day in a metal shell." Schiller gripped the door handle. "Ordinary people will definitely throw up the first time they experience acceleration like that. Since you chose an old-money favorite, a classic car model, it should be steady and dignified—not like those young punks who race around with flashy bikes."
"Was it really that fast?" Stark turned his head, sounding curious. "I thought it was fine. But you do have a point. Looks like the speed needs some more adjustment."
On the ground, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hurried after them. The instant Stark landed, he heard Natasha roar:
"Thank you so very much, Tony Stark! This is the first time in my life I've seen a rocket with wheels!!! Are you planning to fill New York's skies with these things