The Life and Times of a Street Racer

It's Saturday. I'm in my big for a single guy house, and I'm a bit bored. What to do, what to do. As of late, I've become a regular in the Forced Induction section of Honda-Tech, but I think I'll go for a drive. It is Saturday night after all. I reach into my closet and grab the keys. The walk outside takes no time at all, even though it's a bit chilly. If you have to ask why, you'll soon find out.

There she is, sleeping in the driveway. I press the unlock buttons and she flashes her acknowledgement. I haven't driven the car in about 5 hours so she has to warm back up. With my foot on the clutch I slide into the Recaro, prime the Walbro, and start the monster. Just needs a few revs to get going, the infamous Honda IACV is going out on me. "Get that fixed", I think to myself. While she's warming up, I'm in the mood for a fruitshake so I run back in the house and blend one up. Strawberries, applesauce, yogurt and mango. It's pure victory if you've never tried it.

Time to go, the idle sounds about normal.

I lock my door, get back in and back out of my driveway. Easy now, easy, don't want the PeakBoost 3in downpipe dragging. I clear the driveway, and tool out of my little street. Giving it a little gas, I hear the oh so famaliar whine. It's going to be a good night. As I pull into the turn lane on NC 24, I realize I've been missing out. There's quite a few black stripes of rubber at the stoplights on both sides of the street. Guess I go for a cruise, I crack the windows and turn the heat on low. Just eough to knock the chill off. Take first gear to 5000rpm, then second the 6000, and settle into third, foutrh, and fifth in succession. I can feel the boost building as I row through the gears. Remember, it's a little chilly so the charge air is in fact cooler than normal. Two lights in a row, and it's time to turn onto Western. This is the main drag normally. I take a look at my clock, the OEM CD player now 8yrs old still as good as ever. I'm feeling like some Mars Volta. Good music. The speed limit on this strech is 35, and I oblige it. Well close, I'm doing 42. It turns into 45 later anyways. I roll past the BP/Amoco, seeing the bikes in their natural habitat. They won't run me after I dragged a GSX-R 600 across the overpass. But that's another story entirely.

Years back when Manny was here, the Amoco was the hangout spot. We'd sit there with the old crew of car buddies and laugh at the ricers and eat McDonalds. Life was good then. But all good things must come to an end. And the story must go on.

I make the trip to the end of Western, all the way out to the extension and begin my return. By then my "cruise" has transformed into "hunting". V8s preferably. As I pass the Walmart on my left I se a few friends. There's a Civic HB with Falken Hanabis, a red H22 powered Integra, a red 99 Civic coupe with Slips, and my friend Travis in his 97 Integra LS. I catch up, and roll down my window. Seems Crhris is rolling with Travis. He's carless at the moment, his 99 T67/H.O.GSR is in the shop for springs/retainers. He yells "you rolling, man?" I yell back" sure". This isn't a new scene in Jacksonville, a group of modified Hondas rolling down Western. Everday occurence is more like it. But it does attract trouble. And Western is a 3 lane road, we're only taking 2. A red ''99-'02 Mustang GT rolls up. Looks stock, sounds like Flowmasters. Maybe 50 Series. He starts jumping along side of us. Now I'm next to the LS, and behind the hatch. I look over at Chris and he motions to Travis to move back. The coupe moves in front of the hatch as he slows down, and the H22 'Teg moves behind them all. Only I move the opposite direction, one lane over and next to the Mustang. I roll the windows all the way down, although I know what's about to happen. We're rolling along at roughly 47mph and he jumps again, with a "stupid ricer" sneer. Only this time, he didn't know what was coming. With practiced precision, I slow down right to 41mph at the very top of 2nd gear and clutch-kick from 5th to 2nd. The results is instantaneous as the boost gauge jumps from 5psi to 12psi the car leaps forward, only for a second and then the big cams come on and it's too much power for the tires to handle. I'm spinning the tires rolling at 45mph. The Mustang driver looks over in sheer disbelief, the look on his face more priceless than gold. Sensing defeat, he backs down and slows to behind us. Punk.

I need to get off the gas, fun as this is these tires are relatively new and not that cheap. This entre time the smoke from the tires is wafting up and into the windows. Do I care? Not one bit, it smells beautiful to me. But enough of that, there might be cops. I think we should grab some food. I point at the Amoco we're coming up on, and get nonverbal agreement from all parties involved. A few double cheeseburgers and a big iced tea sounds mighty good right about now. I'm last in line to turn so I can wait while everybody parks. Being the last one to park is fine with me. But fate had no plans of me staying parked for long. She idles her victory while I get out. I'm greeted with a "that was crazy" and a few "dude I want a ride". Good fun, is all. I shut her off at the 1:00 minute mark and proceed to walk into the McD. $3.21, pretty cheap for some food. A $1.00 32oz tea? Does it get any better? I grabs my cheeseburgers and head back out to the car. I may be partial, but bronze and black are a winning combination especially at night. One cheeseburger is gone before even I realize it, destroying it with a few bites. Follow that with some tea and it's marvelous.

Revving. Loud supercharged revving. "What is that?" I look into the intersection and it's a black on black Roush. It's supercharged, so I'm guessing it moves. It revves again at the stoplight. No brake light shine. "Hmm" I think to myself. "Run him". Chris says. I decline, over a mouthful of cheeseburger. But the itch has already started. "Damn", out come the keys and I'm backing up. "Gotta catch that stoplight Charles". I do without speeding, thankfully. He's a little ways up, but slows when he sees me coming. No words, just fingers. Three fingers to be exact. I go down to 4th, doing about 60. Just a gauge on how quick he is. Third honk, and he goes as do I. around 60 in 4th isn't the power gear but the 30R is making up for it. I let off at 100 with him dead even with me. "Not too shabby", I think. Let's try from a lower gear though.
By this time we're past Lejuene and I'm not up for going to Swansboro, and my cheeseburger's getting cold. We take the closest U-turn exit and I get up to about 40. He does the same, and we're rolling. I'm holding back just so I can down shift to 2nd @~35mph. Instant power. I yell "30?" He's got a buddy in the car who nods and states "that'll work, man". 30mph on 3 honks. The race is set.

One honk. Two and three come in succession, and his car gets real loud and squirly. I put my foot on the loud pedal and push through the floorboard. She screams to life with the voices of a hundred gym whistles. Traction apparently hasn't got my request, nor his. But forward progress is being made, abeit slowly. He's at my door and all I hear is supercharger whine. I will admit, I like that sound. Damn, 3rd already? I grab 3rd, now feathering the throttle for some resemblabnce of traction and my request has not been answered yet. His, on the other hand has. He hooks and starts to slowly move forward of my door. How I'm still going forward at this point I don't know. Traction!! Just before I have to shift to 4th I feel the tires bite and the car lurches with a force not unlike God pushing with a hand vice a finger. I reel him in through the last bit of 3rd, and as I shift to 4th my rear bumper is at his front. I want more and so does she. 4th gets wrung to it's 8333 limit as my CEL shift light comes on telling me to go to the next gear. I'm a good 7-8 cars ahead, it's over for him. I shift to 5th, slow to the posted speed and begin my way back to my food. One look into the Amoco parking lot and it's obvious that the results are anxiously awaited. I park and let her cool down as I get out.

"What happened"

"Well, he lost", I say.

"How bad?"

"Like 8 cars" is my response.

Turns out he followed me. He gets out, along with his buddy and I'm about ready to go into the trunk for my spare cam that I carry around. You know, for emergencies and the like. That's not why he's here, though. "What you got in that thing man, it's fast" are the first words out of his mouth. We all relax, this guy is cool. Apparently he hadn't come across a fast Civic yet. We talk shop for a bit, pop hoods, debate theoretics, etc. Turns out he's driving a Roush Stage Three, they make 380ish to the ground in that trim. We part ways with a handshake and a "I'll see you 'round".