Eight films. Twenty-four hours. One nervous breakdown. Ahead of the latest instalment, one writer caught up on the pec-drenched petrolhead franchise
They say that if you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. But what if you stare at every single one of the eight Fast & Furious films in a row? Does anything stare back at you then? And if so, does it have beautiful blue eyes like Paul Walker?
Somebody had to find out. OK, technically nobody had to find out. But somebody was about to find out, because I had been signed up to do just that – crank up the original, The Fast and the Furious, then put my pedal to the metal and not stop watching until the credits ran on the eighth film in the franchise. Ride or die, as they say – or at least ride or have a nervous breakdown.
