I'm a New Yorker; ask me what kind of car I drive, and I'll answer, "Black." And I'm a woman. That's two strikes against me when it comes to fully appreciating the gasoline-perfumed charms of this auto-crazed action film. Fast & Furious—the fourth in a series that began with 2001's The Fast and the Furious (drop articles, add an ampersand and voilà, it's a sequel!)—reteams Diesel (monosyllabic as ever), who starred only in the first film, and Walker, who stuck it out through the first two. Walker plays an FBI agent, and Diesel is on the wrong side of the law, but the two pair up to nail a major drug lord doing business in Los Angeles. That the job involves driving at reckless speeds in shiny, souped-up, bad-boy cars is a big plus for both guys. F&F is pure car porn, loaded with scenes of crazed but skilled driving, vehicles crashing and adoring close-ups of gauges gleaming on the dashboard.