#i literally rotate her in my mind every night at fast processing speeds

[writeouttaluck]

A Story about racing i guess.

Stupid class...stupid people...I can almost feel my hands clutching around the steering wheel, the World coming to a blur past my windshield, the float of a complete speed machine pushing its limits.

“Frank…We've been through this before...Is today gonna be the day you open up and tell us why you're here?”

“...Not a chance…”

“Ok then...Ricky?...”

Every wednesday night, I had to come to this court mandated AA class because I had got caught drinking and driving ONCE. It's actually laughable considering what they could have caught me with a few hours before the arrest…

I was sitting idle in a 1988 Ford Foxbody Mustang set up with a 5.7 Liter V8 Corvette engine under the hood. Simple in concept, but a weapon on the track, or in this case, street. Crowds of custom cars ranging from ricers to muscle to sleepers to rats sat parked in the abandoned parking lot of an old book store. All of us were there for some type of motive; reputation, money, like minded people, and of course, racing.

I had followed a big classic ford square body to the scene. Two wire bridges across a refinery plant, little to no traffic at this time, and a small variety of people ready to push their cars to the absolute limit.

The big truck was owned by this guy called lil Joe. Now, Joe wasn't little in any possible way as far as his love life or parking garage was concerned. He was always driving the biggest truck, with the biggest engine, and participating the most in the biggest races. He always showed up with the hardware required. This case was simple, cones and road blocks at both ends of the bridge with look outs on both ends. Each look out had radios hooked up to lil Joe’s CB in his classic truck.

I sat in the sleeper mustang across from a ricer sedan. I get the appeal, cheap engine swap, cheap parts, cheap speed but ricers just aren't for me. The way I look at it, Japan is a small country with small roads and little to no need for all 8 cylinders. In the states, however, It was a necessity.

Or maybe i'm just ignorant to culture, I don't know.

But I did know that I was gonna smoke the competition tonight.

We watched as the flag girl climbed out of Lil Joe’s truck and walked her way past our cars. Admittedly, I olged her a bit more than what was necessary.

Thank god for tinted windows.

She stood in between the two cars with the flag raised high. I revved the engine and looked across to the car beside me. He was a younger kid with snapback hat and a few face piercings. He looked cocky. I grinned an evil grin when his face dropped at the mere sound of my car.

At least he knew what he was getting into.

The flag dropped, my foot slammed the gas pedal down. One full rotation and my tires caught, propelling me forward. I hit the clutch and shifted rapidly as the car climbed gears. The street lights ignited my interior in a strobe as I passed under. I looked in my side mirrors to see the ricer far behind me.

Then I saw something a little troublesome. A blue flash from behind the car, and suddenly the little Honda was making its way closer to me at a quick speed.

I found myself looking over to see the bumper at mirror level with me.

Not tonight.

I layed the gas to the floor as hard as I could and shifted once more. We came neck and neck to the first turn. I came into the turn and slammed the ebrake back. I turned left, then right, and put the brake down, slamming on the gas once more. My tires spun and caught, no burnout in this race. Without a look in the mirror, I started shifting rapidly again.

I was not going to lose this.

I was getting sucked back into the seat, the world flashing by around me. I looked down to the speedometer to see the dial bouncing off the limiter like a jackhammer. I had little to no control on the car at this point, my entire life in the vehicle's hands as I broke 125 on this short stretch.

I saw the finish line coming up quickly but what I saw in the rear view mirror caused me to lay the gas down once again.

The Honda was on my ass again, gaining me.

The crowd waiting ahead started running to the sides in fear of the cars not stopping. I zipped across the thin spray painted line on the asphalt and immediately slammed the breaks, downshifting as fast as I could.

I spun in the process and was now holding onto my steering wheel for dear life. I closed my eyes, accepting my fate.

My car finally stopped to a skid and came to rest. Before I had even gotten my bearings, I whipped open the door to my car and stepped out.

Dizziness, confusion, and rage were all across my features. I stomped towards the crowd closing in on me, focused solely on beating the shit out of this kid for fucking up my car.

Most of the people who had came to watch the race already knew who I was and what My size was capable of. Not exactly tall, but 5 feet tall and 4 feet wide and jacked can still do a lot of damage. They met me and tried to stop me. About 30 different people grabbed my shirt trying to hold me back. I pushed a few out of the way and shook a couple more off me.

I waded through and saw the skinny man getting out of his car.

He took his hat off and wiped his brow, oblivious to my anger towards him.

“Solid race. Huh? I almost got you there-”

I grabbed him by his shirt and socked him once in the stomach. He doubled over and coughed.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“If you ever put me in danger like that again, im gonna find where you live, and im gonna break both your legs. Got me?”

“What did i even-”

I slapped him hard, my calloused mechanic hands leaving a mark along his jawline.

“Do you understand me?”

He looked up at me in fear, knowing that I meant every single world.

I threw him to the ground and stormed back to my car.

The crowd watched me and steered clear. As I came across my car, I saw the large crack in the rear bumper and the scratches left behind.

I got tapped on the shoulder and whirled around like I was gonna kill whoever was behind me.

“Woah! Frank chill out man! I got your earnings from tonight” Lil Joe handed me a stack of cash.

I took it and started counting it.

“It should come out to a few grand” Lil Joe told me.

“...Awesome. Thank you Joe” I said sincerely.

“So what the hell happened out there?” He asked me, “I was busy collecting bet money”

“I was winning the race when that little shit used nitrous. I wanted to win so I floored it. When we crossed the line that little fucker hit my rear end and I fish tailed. He's lucky no one got hurt because I probably would have gotten out and made him eat his teeth” I said, spitting on the ground as if the mere mention of the kid disgusted me.

“Look man, you've been at this for a long time. You're a great racer but you gotta keep in mind that there's a new generation moving in. Hes a new kid to an old scene and he's just trying to fit in here.”

“He fucking ran me off the road!” I shouted back.

“Maybe so, but tell me you never fucked up when you first started racing”

The image of a younger me accidentally scratching several cars by getting too close flashed before my eyes.

“I guess, but i'm not gonna be nice to him until he earns my respect. And lets just say that tonight was a shitty first impression.” I told Joe sternly.

“That's fine I suppose. But hey, I got a few more races lined up. A few people liked what they saw in that last race and wanna try you out. What do you think? Is your car still up to preform?” He crossed his arms as he asked me.

After a spin out like that I knew that I should have listened to my instincts and simply said no to the request. But my need to go fast won over everything else.

“Ill race” I told him.

…

6 more races, 5 more wins, and a little stack of cash for whatever I needed to repair. I drove over to a liquor store in the thick of night and picked up a six pack. I didn't hesitate to start drinking from the cans as I made my way back to my place. A few blocks short of my apartment, I saw police lights come on behind me.

Shit.

I slammed on the gas and to my dismay, a loud pop greeted my ears. I stuck my head out of the window to see that one of my tires actually exploded, leaving me coasting on the rim. I reluctantly pulled over and accepted whatever was about to happen. Those last races really screwed me this time. I must have burnt one of the tires or something when I spun.

…

So there I sat a few months later. I smirked thinking about what the cops could have gotten me for and how they didn't.

Its kind of funny when you think about it.