An Uncomfortable Feeling...
The smell of race gas was heavy in the air; its rich, pungent smell wafting lazily about in the cool evening in and around the racers in the pits. The nights still were longer than the days so darkness came early… but it wouldn’t be that way for much longer. May wasn’t that far away and heck, as soon as May was here and gone, June would be there with the warmer days and shorter nights.
As he backed the Black car off of the trailer without starting it, a few people turned to stare at its lines. It was long and low; sleek and seductive in an unpleasant way to some. The tinted glass gave no clue to what was within the interior no more than the hood could warn wanna-be’s how silly they really were for even trying to challenge the driver. No badges adorned the fenders. No decals of any kind were on the windows, only the driver’s number in smeary, white shoe polish - #238- scarred the menacing looks. The headlights were like two soul-less eyes, gazing into the distance as if some hungry beast was waiting for its next hapless victim to appear at any time on the horizon.
************************
Oh, they would appear all right. Like last Saturday when the driver was leaving the auto parts store next to the Clear Lake Mall. Some guy in a juiced and loose Viper spent two lights trying to taunt him to run a quick one. The Viper was healthy – 500+ cubes of heavily massaged V-10 that had started out as a Venom 650 but wasn’t enough for its owner. Yet, when at the third light, the black car’s passenger window surprisingly lowered enough for the dick in the Viper to look in – wishing he hadn’t. All he could see was a shadowy figure laughing at him – then the window zipped back up.
Was that a near-glint of fading sunlight that just danced off a Roll cage tube, seen just as the window went closed?
The Viper’s exhaust cackled and roared as its driver mashed the go-pedal waiting on the light. He was going to show this SOB what was really funny – the Viper’s tail lights. But a funny thing happened. What was a fairly quiet black car somehow began to sound like a straight exhaust pro-stocker when shadow-man opened the remotely controlled dump tube.
“Baa-da-baa-baa-da-baa-da-da-Vroom-ba-da-baa-da-da…Vroom!”
Oddly, the once cool and cocky Viper driver wasn’t so cool and cocky any more. He couldn’t even hear his Barry Manilow CD anymore over the sound of the animal next to him. That black car was sick… very, very sick.
Then, the black car’s rpms picked up and the car seemed to hunch up as the driver began to mash the accelerator only being held back by the trans-brake….
All the Viper dude could do was rev his massive V-10 with the exhaust note like a frustrated – but large winged – bumble bee.
God – when’s the damn light gonna change? I wanna show this assclown wassup…
The green light for the cross traffic now flicked to yellow. It’s light casting an amber glow onto the light cover directly beneath it. The Viper driver’s eyes squinted… his left foot backed out ever so slightly on the brushed aluminum pedal attached to the clutch swing arm, the huge pressure plate now scant millimeters from full application against the flywheel now turning nearly 2800 rpms….
On the opposite corner, two people were talking and walking toward Neilson’s, a jewelry store in the strip mall next to the Clear Lake complex. The man heard the sounds of an impending street race and turned to see who was going to get their head cut this early spring evening. He could easily see that the car in the far lane was a Viper – sort of a dark, smoky gray color, probably an ACR version or something like that he thought. But that black car in the near lane. What kind of car is THAT? Weird headlights on it… hmmm. The glass looked as black as the paint – and the paint looked wet and very, very deep.
The driver of the black car watched the yellow begin to change and reached forward to tap the stereo ‘On’ switch with his leather-gloved hand. Instantly, guitar riffs bellowed from the 8 speakers arrayed discretely about the interior of the car. The black leather seats – custom jobs – were meticulously cared for and actually helped the acoustics within the cabin. Acoustics that were perfect for music such as this – George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers…
Bad to the Bone. Yeah, this car was bad all right. A really, really BAD car…
His finger on the trans-brake release, as the yellow light began to die – his vision was that acute – he released the beast confined within the firewall, two fenders and a grill.
The dogs were loose now and Hell itself could not contain them.
The switch activated the solenoid that moved the notched brake apparatus within the built auto. As the pressure being held in check from the converter could now spin freely, the nearly 1100 pound/feet of torque tried to tear the input shaft loose – but couldn’t. The hardened billet could take more than that and so the gears began to turn. The torque tried to twist the differential out of its mounts and failing that, began to torture the wide (315’s) Drag Radials. But even they didn’t give – much, grabbing and biting the tarmac, the twisting force now trying to lift the front end of the car. But – the suspension setup took the brunt of that, the nose only lifting slightly, as the car shot forward, pinning the driver firmly into the soft leather, his five-point feeling a little loose – but only for a second or so…
In less than four tenths of a second, the black car was already halfway through the light.
Just as the Viper’s pressure plate was securely tight against the flywheel and beginning to motivate the snake – but the race was already over. The black car by now was t-h-r-o-u-g-h the intersection, two barely visible hazy black marks the only indication that something wicked this way came, it’s odd tail-lights disappearing down the street in a horrific roar of Dante’s Inferno.
The man on the corner stood mesmerized, his female friend wondering what all the noise was about. Her long black skirt waved in the gentle spring breeze as she tried to shade her eyes with her white-gloved hand. Her husband watched and saw the black car just own the Viper - and he thought he saw its driver with a shocked look on his open mouth face…
Damn! What the HELL was that? the viper victim had never, EVER been walked like that. And never by a car like the one he watched pulling away as if HE was parked. Then – had enough time to see the license plate, hoping to somehow identify the machine that just pulled his perfect automotive dreams out of his head and pissed all over them. He couldn’t make it out at first but then he clearly saw
ANNIL8R…
A chill slowly crept up his sweaty back... and he had to look away.
The Black Car's driver glared at his rear view mirror and saw the Viper shut down before it was even through the intersection, humiliated and laid to waste. A slight grin appeared on his face, the short stubble of his beard tickling the corners of his wryly-skewed lips reminding him the night was young. Still, he needed to change the oil once more so he turned down a side street as he reached down to shut off George, even before he got to the second verse. He needed to think and George was just too distracting – that whole CD always demanded that you stop whatever you were doing and listen… and he had no time for that tonight. He had work to do…
“What kind of car WAS that, honey?” she asked him.
Dan didn’t know for sure. “Well, I think it was some sort of a sedan. If I didn’t know better, I would have said it was a big Ford… I’m just not sure. Those tail-lights are different.”
He thought some more… somewhere in the recesses of his mind, electrical impulses bounced about, trying to cue up the memory of what was familiar. Then – it happened.
“I KNEW it! That was the car I saw go by us over at the restaurant last week! Remember? We were having breakfast and I saw a big black car go by real slow. I think that one we just saw embarrass the Mopar owner is the same car.”
His voice trailed off…
“What is it Dan? Is it new?”
Dan could only look down the empty street and listen to the hum of the approaching night that was overshadowed by the Viper meekly turning down a different entrance near the mall.
“Dan? What’s the matter?”
Still he just wondered and thought. Somewhere, somehow, that car he saw came from his past. He didn’t know why, but oddly, a chill crept up his back and he shivered.
“Dan?”
She took his arm and walked in front of him.
“Dan? You’re scaring me baby…”
He looked into her eyes and forced a smile.
“Ah, it’s nothing. Really… it’s just a car…”
*****************************
The black car's owner saw the furtive looks from the others at the track this evening as he rubbed a towel over the paint, readying the car for a few test and tune runs. This track was far from his home town, away from prying local eyes. In the background, the roar of a blown 5 litre embarrassing another hapless Camaro with an equally loud exhaust broke the drone from the distance of a tractor and cultimulcher working some nearby farm land...
He didn’t want anyone to really know what this car was and what it was capable of.
He inhaled the cool air deeply as he stood up and smiled at his creation. It was good, very good he thought as he walked towards the trailer and tossed the towel onto the built – in work area. Striding back towards the car he thought some more…
No, no one should really know about this car just yet. And that Viper driver last week? He only saw a little bit of what this car could do.
No one should really know… Not just yet… that time was coming.
Soon…
To be continued…
The smell of race gas was heavy in the air; its rich, pungent smell wafting lazily about in the cool evening in and around the racers in the pits. The nights still were longer than the days so darkness came early… but it wouldn’t be that way for much longer. May wasn’t that far away and heck, as soon as May was here and gone, June would be there with the warmer days and shorter nights.
As he backed the Black car off of the trailer without starting it, a few people turned to stare at its lines. It was long and low; sleek and seductive in an unpleasant way to some. The tinted glass gave no clue to what was within the interior no more than the hood could warn wanna-be’s how silly they really were for even trying to challenge the driver. No badges adorned the fenders. No decals of any kind were on the windows, only the driver’s number in smeary, white shoe polish - #238- scarred the menacing looks. The headlights were like two soul-less eyes, gazing into the distance as if some hungry beast was waiting for its next hapless victim to appear at any time on the horizon.
************************
Oh, they would appear all right. Like last Saturday when the driver was leaving the auto parts store next to the Clear Lake Mall. Some guy in a juiced and loose Viper spent two lights trying to taunt him to run a quick one. The Viper was healthy – 500+ cubes of heavily massaged V-10 that had started out as a Venom 650 but wasn’t enough for its owner. Yet, when at the third light, the black car’s passenger window surprisingly lowered enough for the dick in the Viper to look in – wishing he hadn’t. All he could see was a shadowy figure laughing at him – then the window zipped back up.
Was that a near-glint of fading sunlight that just danced off a Roll cage tube, seen just as the window went closed?
The Viper’s exhaust cackled and roared as its driver mashed the go-pedal waiting on the light. He was going to show this SOB what was really funny – the Viper’s tail lights. But a funny thing happened. What was a fairly quiet black car somehow began to sound like a straight exhaust pro-stocker when shadow-man opened the remotely controlled dump tube.
“Baa-da-baa-baa-da-baa-da-da-Vroom-ba-da-baa-da-da…Vroom!”
Oddly, the once cool and cocky Viper driver wasn’t so cool and cocky any more. He couldn’t even hear his Barry Manilow CD anymore over the sound of the animal next to him. That black car was sick… very, very sick.
Then, the black car’s rpms picked up and the car seemed to hunch up as the driver began to mash the accelerator only being held back by the trans-brake….
All the Viper dude could do was rev his massive V-10 with the exhaust note like a frustrated – but large winged – bumble bee.
God – when’s the damn light gonna change? I wanna show this assclown wassup…
The green light for the cross traffic now flicked to yellow. It’s light casting an amber glow onto the light cover directly beneath it. The Viper driver’s eyes squinted… his left foot backed out ever so slightly on the brushed aluminum pedal attached to the clutch swing arm, the huge pressure plate now scant millimeters from full application against the flywheel now turning nearly 2800 rpms….
On the opposite corner, two people were talking and walking toward Neilson’s, a jewelry store in the strip mall next to the Clear Lake complex. The man heard the sounds of an impending street race and turned to see who was going to get their head cut this early spring evening. He could easily see that the car in the far lane was a Viper – sort of a dark, smoky gray color, probably an ACR version or something like that he thought. But that black car in the near lane. What kind of car is THAT? Weird headlights on it… hmmm. The glass looked as black as the paint – and the paint looked wet and very, very deep.
The driver of the black car watched the yellow begin to change and reached forward to tap the stereo ‘On’ switch with his leather-gloved hand. Instantly, guitar riffs bellowed from the 8 speakers arrayed discretely about the interior of the car. The black leather seats – custom jobs – were meticulously cared for and actually helped the acoustics within the cabin. Acoustics that were perfect for music such as this – George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers…
Bad to the Bone. Yeah, this car was bad all right. A really, really BAD car…
His finger on the trans-brake release, as the yellow light began to die – his vision was that acute – he released the beast confined within the firewall, two fenders and a grill.
The dogs were loose now and Hell itself could not contain them.
The switch activated the solenoid that moved the notched brake apparatus within the built auto. As the pressure being held in check from the converter could now spin freely, the nearly 1100 pound/feet of torque tried to tear the input shaft loose – but couldn’t. The hardened billet could take more than that and so the gears began to turn. The torque tried to twist the differential out of its mounts and failing that, began to torture the wide (315’s) Drag Radials. But even they didn’t give – much, grabbing and biting the tarmac, the twisting force now trying to lift the front end of the car. But – the suspension setup took the brunt of that, the nose only lifting slightly, as the car shot forward, pinning the driver firmly into the soft leather, his five-point feeling a little loose – but only for a second or so…
In less than four tenths of a second, the black car was already halfway through the light.
Just as the Viper’s pressure plate was securely tight against the flywheel and beginning to motivate the snake – but the race was already over. The black car by now was t-h-r-o-u-g-h the intersection, two barely visible hazy black marks the only indication that something wicked this way came, it’s odd tail-lights disappearing down the street in a horrific roar of Dante’s Inferno.
The man on the corner stood mesmerized, his female friend wondering what all the noise was about. Her long black skirt waved in the gentle spring breeze as she tried to shade her eyes with her white-gloved hand. Her husband watched and saw the black car just own the Viper - and he thought he saw its driver with a shocked look on his open mouth face…
Damn! What the HELL was that? the viper victim had never, EVER been walked like that. And never by a car like the one he watched pulling away as if HE was parked. Then – had enough time to see the license plate, hoping to somehow identify the machine that just pulled his perfect automotive dreams out of his head and pissed all over them. He couldn’t make it out at first but then he clearly saw
ANNIL8R…
A chill slowly crept up his sweaty back... and he had to look away.
The Black Car's driver glared at his rear view mirror and saw the Viper shut down before it was even through the intersection, humiliated and laid to waste. A slight grin appeared on his face, the short stubble of his beard tickling the corners of his wryly-skewed lips reminding him the night was young. Still, he needed to change the oil once more so he turned down a side street as he reached down to shut off George, even before he got to the second verse. He needed to think and George was just too distracting – that whole CD always demanded that you stop whatever you were doing and listen… and he had no time for that tonight. He had work to do…
“What kind of car WAS that, honey?” she asked him.
Dan didn’t know for sure. “Well, I think it was some sort of a sedan. If I didn’t know better, I would have said it was a big Ford… I’m just not sure. Those tail-lights are different.”
He thought some more… somewhere in the recesses of his mind, electrical impulses bounced about, trying to cue up the memory of what was familiar. Then – it happened.
“I KNEW it! That was the car I saw go by us over at the restaurant last week! Remember? We were having breakfast and I saw a big black car go by real slow. I think that one we just saw embarrass the Mopar owner is the same car.”
His voice trailed off…
“What is it Dan? Is it new?”
Dan could only look down the empty street and listen to the hum of the approaching night that was overshadowed by the Viper meekly turning down a different entrance near the mall.
“Dan? What’s the matter?”
Still he just wondered and thought. Somewhere, somehow, that car he saw came from his past. He didn’t know why, but oddly, a chill crept up his back and he shivered.
“Dan?”
She took his arm and walked in front of him.
“Dan? You’re scaring me baby…”
He looked into her eyes and forced a smile.
“Ah, it’s nothing. Really… it’s just a car…”
*****************************
The black car's owner saw the furtive looks from the others at the track this evening as he rubbed a towel over the paint, readying the car for a few test and tune runs. This track was far from his home town, away from prying local eyes. In the background, the roar of a blown 5 litre embarrassing another hapless Camaro with an equally loud exhaust broke the drone from the distance of a tractor and cultimulcher working some nearby farm land...
He didn’t want anyone to really know what this car was and what it was capable of.
He inhaled the cool air deeply as he stood up and smiled at his creation. It was good, very good he thought as he walked towards the trailer and tossed the towel onto the built – in work area. Striding back towards the car he thought some more…
No, no one should really know about this car just yet. And that Viper driver last week? He only saw a little bit of what this car could do.
No one should really know… Not just yet… that time was coming.
Soon…
To be continued…
If not thats coo, just keep these ones coming.
