Hey guys! This is a revamped version of 'Speeding Love'. I deeply appreciate all the reviews, favorites, and follows I got from that story, but I want my stories to have a sense of realism within the fictional universe and here we are! My writing style has changed since I began 'Speeding Love', so I hope you guys love this one just as much as you loved 'Speeding Love', maybe you'll love it more! Hopefully...

Sweat trickled down her grease splotched forehead as she stared at the suspiciously clean engine in distaste and utter rage. Deciding she had had enough of the shitty truck for a day, she blindly grasped for a, what used to be, white rag on her workbench behind her. A huff of irritation left her as she dabbed at the sweat collected on her creased forehead and hairline. She continued to stare at the engine as she furiously tried to scrub the grease off of her stained hands with the equally stained rag. This truck is giving her more grief than it is worth. The goddamn Ford was worth shit, that's what it's worth! First off there is no goddamn muffler on the motherfucker! Normally the roar of an engine was a major turn on for her, but this little shit gagged and sputtered when the engine turned over, let alone when she revved it, now that is nowhere near sexy. Not only is there no muffler, but there is a goddamn, motherfucking hole in the exhaust pipe. A big, gaping hole! Oh, that would not fly with her, no that is completely and utterly unacceptable. Even if the truck had a muffler and a normal goddamn exhaust pipe, the fluids are fucked up beyond all recognition. When she had shined a flashlight up against the antifreeze tank to try and see if it needed refilled, she couldn't even see any antifreeze in there, but the antifreeze sensor wasn't even on. So she filled that up and then checked the oil and she nearly gagged with how terrible the oil was. It looked black as death, had the consistency of mud, and not only that, but it was chunky! Chunky! What oil on earth was fucking chunky? This entire thing was a rolling deathtrap, but she couldn't tell her boyfriend that. He had driven this loud motherfucker up her driveway the other day and explained what a 'deal' it was. He said that he only paid $1500 for it and now she could see why.

"Goddamn it... What the hell am I supposed to do with this piece of shit? I can't just go up to Jared and say 'Oh yeah this is a total piece of shit, you wasted your money and my time'." she groaned and slammed the hood down in irritation.

"Hot damn, what's crawled up your ass and died?" She turned to chew out whoever just sassed her, but only found her favorite and only uncle, Uncle Donovan, or as she liked to call him: Dude. He took her in when her parents split and neither one of them was found suitable enough to care for her, but since Dude was her godfather, he received custody of her.

She collapsed into the worn, moth eaten armchair tucked into the corner of her garage, yes it is hers, Dude doesn't know squat about cars, except that he has to change his oil every so often. Dude pulled over her swivel stool to sit in front of her as she began her rant, "That Ford is going to be the death of me, I swear! Jared really fucked up this time, I thought he had fucked up with that old Toyota before, but no. This is seriously fucked up. I cannot even begin to explain in non-mechanical terms how shitty and horribly fucked this thing is."

He glanced at the seemingly harmless truck, "Well that sounds fucked up."

That made her laugh, lifting her mood considerably, which it was supposed to do, "You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better."

A wide smile that showed all of his teeth and the smile lines around his eyes spread across his face along with a teasing wink, "Of course, that's my job sweetie pie!"

She winced and shoved his entire seat back with her foot, "I'm not three anymore Dude!"

His contagious laugh echoed through the garage wholeheartedly, "I know! That's exactly why I do it!"

Another huff of annoyance left her as she stood up from the old chair to head for the house, she needed to clean up and do her homework, not that she was looking forward to it. Not that she wasn't intelligent, not at all, she was incredibly bright, it's just that she found homework redundant when she already knew the material her teachers were lecturing her on.

One warm, heavenly shower later she jumped from the bathroom into her bedroom across the small, upstairs hallway in nothing but a towel; she had forgotten her clothes on her bed. She dried herself off thoroughly before slipping on her favorite bra, a comfy black tank, a charcoal gray sweatshirt given to her from Dude, and a pair of black jean shorts. Her still damp hair clung to her neck annoyingly, but since she was far too lazy to deal with it, she let it go. Her bare feet padded down the hardwood floored steps and into the kitchen where she stole a yellow apple from the fruit basket on the counter. She absolutely detested apples unless they were yellow. Don't ask why, but that's just her.

Dude was sitting at the island in the kitchen with his sketchpad in front of him, she knew that he's designing his next biggest idea. He's a advertising designer, meaning he's one hell of an artist. He was sketching what looked like some sort of muscle car, possibly a Camaro, but she didn't know for sure. He glanced up from his light sketch to see her hovering by his shoulder, "Ah Devin! Just the little mechanic I wanted to see!"

Devin narrowed her eyes at her uncle suspiciously, he only ever called her a 'little mechanic' when he wanted something from her or when he was going to break something big to her. She hopped up onto the island and sat cross-legged next to his gigantic sketchpad, "Ok cut the bullshit, what do you want?"

"Oh nothing much... I just want you to listen to me and not freak out okay?" Well that never sounds good.

With a skeptical brow raised she hesitantly replied, "Fine... Just tell me."

He put down the graphite pencil he was shading with and looked Devin straight in the eye, oh no. Not a good sign, "Ok then, we're moving."

Devin inhaled sharply, taking down a copious amount of air along as apple chunks. Since lungs absolutely were not made to intake apple chunks, she coughed and pounded on her chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain in her lungs. She felt her uncle pound her back forcefully, that finally made the chunks come back up. The coughs that followed her near chocking incident made Devin sound like a regular chain smoker.

Still panting slightly, Devin hunched over on the island and looked at her uncle out of the corner of her eye, "Thanks Dude... I think I'm gonna go upstairs and do my homework and shit..."

Dude didn't even try to stop her, he knew that Devin needed to think about this by herself and maybe blow off some steam before she came back. He just hoped that 'blowing off steam' didn't involve her idiot boyfriend.