Chapter 1: Who's Who?
Another beautiful day in Daygo (San Diego, CA). The 3S-GTE turbocharged engine screamed at 8000 rpm down the 5 North. Jeff hit the clutch and threw it into 5th, then released the clutch and hit the gas in a perfectly timed gear shift. The rpm's picked up again at 5500. The MR2 Turbo (with T-tops, of course) was a beautiful speed machine. The speedometer hit 120 and kept climbing. "Slow the fuck down!!!" screamed Diane. "Ah shit, I was going for top speed too!" Jeff let the gear run down to 3000 rpm's and downshifted into 4th. The rpm's picked up again at 7500. Jeff let the gear run down once more, then jumped back on the gas and kept the speed at a nice and safe 85 mph.
"Diane, why didn't you let me keep going?" said Jeff.
"You know it scares me when you speed on the freeway. Try to keep the speeding on the domestic roads next time, ok?" asked Diane.
"No problem babe, just please don't scream anymore."
Jeff pulled his MR2 into the DAiMYo garage. "Team DAiMYo Racing" is what the banner at the top of the garage said. Jeff got out of his car and walked into the building. "Yo, Hieuy! Where you at?" Hieu rolled out from under his Lexus IS.
"What's goin' on Jeff? How they rollin'?"
"The fuck you doin' with you're Lex dude?"
"Somethin's wrong with the exhaust, I'm checkin' the pipes."
"Aright bruh, we got a race tonight, be there."
"No prob dude."
"We gonna get dynoed today?"
"Sure, let's go when I'm done with the damn pipes."
"Aright."
The MR2 and the IS drove down the 805 North up to The Racer's Edge. As they turned the corner to go down the street to The Racer's Edge, they saw a shitload of import cars parked on the sides. They parked and walked into the place.
"Ey, foo, wus up mah essay?" That was Hector, the current Mexican representative of the Hollywood/Los Angeles street racing scene.
"Hey, what's goin' on Hector?"
"Notheeng much, foo. Ow bout you vato?"
"Dude I told you already not to call me that shit."
"Sorry foo………mano. It's just a habeet. You have to forgeeve me. You gonna be reppin' at da races tonight?"
"You know it man. Somebody gotta set you mother fuckers straight about who can race and who can't."
"Ok mano, wee'll see you there then."
"Hey Hector."
"Wuddup?"
"The fuck you doin' here anyway?
"Ah man, I just be buyeeng some NOS."
Jeff was starting to get sick of everybody calling it NOS.
"Alright everybody! Listen up! I'm sick of all you poseurs calling it NOS! NOS is a fucken company! CALL THE SHIT NITROUS!"
"Ey foo, I'm sorry, but we all just can't help it. We like that movie The Fast and the Furious too much, and those NOS foos paid the most, so we gotta say their shit."
"I don't even give a shit anymore. Y'all is bot to get smoked tonight. You just wait."
"Aight foo, see you there."
Hector and his crew left the store. Harry (the owner of The Racer's Edge) walked up to Jeff.
"Hey Harry, how's the wife?"
"Jeff! My man! What be poppenin' in da house?"
"Whoa, Harry, I'd appreciate if you didn't talk like that."
"Alright, I'm sorry, I'm just tryin' to be 'hip'."
"Alright dude. I need me a fucken Nitrous refill."
"What kind of nitrous you runnin'?"
"I'm using Venom. I need me two twenty-five pounder refills. Can you hook me up?"
"Oh yeah man, I'll get that for you right away. You and DAiMYo goin' to the race tonight?"
"No doubt man. Like I told that immigrant [no offense to anyone or anything with that remark], somebody's gotta set them straight on who can race or not."
Another beautiful day in Daygo (San Diego, CA). The 3S-GTE turbocharged engine screamed at 8000 rpm down the 5 North. Jeff hit the clutch and threw it into 5th, then released the clutch and hit the gas in a perfectly timed gear shift. The rpm's picked up again at 5500. The MR2 Turbo (with T-tops, of course) was a beautiful speed machine. The speedometer hit 120 and kept climbing. "Slow the fuck down!!!" screamed Diane. "Ah shit, I was going for top speed too!" Jeff let the gear run down to 3000 rpm's and downshifted into 4th. The rpm's picked up again at 7500. Jeff let the gear run down once more, then jumped back on the gas and kept the speed at a nice and safe 85 mph.
"Diane, why didn't you let me keep going?" said Jeff.
"You know it scares me when you speed on the freeway. Try to keep the speeding on the domestic roads next time, ok?" asked Diane.
"No problem babe, just please don't scream anymore."
Jeff pulled his MR2 into the DAiMYo garage. "Team DAiMYo Racing" is what the banner at the top of the garage said. Jeff got out of his car and walked into the building. "Yo, Hieuy! Where you at?" Hieu rolled out from under his Lexus IS.
"What's goin' on Jeff? How they rollin'?"
"The fuck you doin' with you're Lex dude?"
"Somethin's wrong with the exhaust, I'm checkin' the pipes."
"Aright bruh, we got a race tonight, be there."
"No prob dude."
"We gonna get dynoed today?"
"Sure, let's go when I'm done with the damn pipes."
"Aright."
The MR2 and the IS drove down the 805 North up to The Racer's Edge. As they turned the corner to go down the street to The Racer's Edge, they saw a shitload of import cars parked on the sides. They parked and walked into the place.
"Ey, foo, wus up mah essay?" That was Hector, the current Mexican representative of the Hollywood/Los Angeles street racing scene.
"Hey, what's goin' on Hector?"
"Notheeng much, foo. Ow bout you vato?"
"Dude I told you already not to call me that shit."
"Sorry foo………mano. It's just a habeet. You have to forgeeve me. You gonna be reppin' at da races tonight?"
"You know it man. Somebody gotta set you mother fuckers straight about who can race and who can't."
"Ok mano, wee'll see you there then."
"Hey Hector."
"Wuddup?"
"The fuck you doin' here anyway?
"Ah man, I just be buyeeng some NOS."
Jeff was starting to get sick of everybody calling it NOS.
"Alright everybody! Listen up! I'm sick of all you poseurs calling it NOS! NOS is a fucken company! CALL THE SHIT NITROUS!"
"Ey foo, I'm sorry, but we all just can't help it. We like that movie The Fast and the Furious too much, and those NOS foos paid the most, so we gotta say their shit."
"I don't even give a shit anymore. Y'all is bot to get smoked tonight. You just wait."
"Aight foo, see you there."
Hector and his crew left the store. Harry (the owner of The Racer's Edge) walked up to Jeff.
"Hey Harry, how's the wife?"
"Jeff! My man! What be poppenin' in da house?"
"Whoa, Harry, I'd appreciate if you didn't talk like that."
"Alright, I'm sorry, I'm just tryin' to be 'hip'."
"Alright dude. I need me a fucken Nitrous refill."
"What kind of nitrous you runnin'?"
"I'm using Venom. I need me two twenty-five pounder refills. Can you hook me up?"
"Oh yeah man, I'll get that for you right away. You and DAiMYo goin' to the race tonight?"
"No doubt man. Like I told that immigrant [no offense to anyone or anything with that remark], somebody's gotta set them straight on who can race or not."