From Ian Fleming's "On Her Majesty's Secret Service"
CHAPTER 2
(Of Tracy, before she and Bond meet.)
It was then on a ten-mile straight cut through a forest that it happened. Triple wind-horn screamed their banshee discord in his ear, and a low, white two-seater, a Lancia Flaminia Zagato Spyder with its hood down, tore past him, curt in cheekily across his bonnet and pulled away, the sexy boom of its twin exhausts echoing back from the border of trees. And it was a girl driving, a girl with a shocking pink scarf tied round her hair, leaving a brief pink tail that the wind blew horizontal behind her.
If there was one thing that set James Bond really moving in life, with the exception of gun-play, it was being passed at speed by a pretty girl; and it was his experience that girls who drove competitively like that were always pretty -- and exciting.
© 1963 by Glidrose Productions Ltd.