I looked out the window, Do I know how to use the life vest? Let me check. Where is the life vest? Can I swim long enough to survive out there? Are there sharks down there? These are warm waters, there are definitely sharks. I'm dead. Wait, what am I saying? I gotta get a hold of myself... I don't wanna die! I'm only just getting a college education!

"Can I get you anything?" The female voice pulled me from my morbid thoughts, and I looked up to find an attendant.

"Uh, yeah. Pepsi is fine," was my answer.

"Great, I'll be back with that shortly," She left to retrieve my drink.

I should probably explain what is going on. So, these Japanese aristocrats, the Takahashi family, hosted a competition for an American to fly over to Japan and get a college degree in, well, anything they wanted really. I chose the Gunma University, and was to major in engineering. my mother had shown me this and told me that "it would be fun" so we gave it a whirl. For the six months it took for them to decide a winner, my mother, no joke, made me learn Japanese. I told her she was crazy to think we would win but she had one of her gut feelings and there was no stopping her. Ugh, why do mothers always have to be right? I told her one day she might end up being wrong about something; she waved me off jokingly but I'm starting to think she ACTUALLY knows something - like she has an innate ability to say anything she wants and it'll just happen. Anyway, they even offered to have any car you wanted shipped over here, so long as it had plates and you were in possession of the vehicle's title. If it's hard to tell (it shouldn't be) I had my '68 sent here.

The main reason I'm majoring in engineering is because, even though I pride myself on having put the Charger back together, I still don't fully understand exactly what makes cars do what the do. Engineering in general might not necessarily help me learn about cars in specific, but it will help me to understand what I'm reading about as I study more about automobiles. Not to mention, being able to write down "Bachelor's Degree in Engineering" on a job application for an automotive company could get me noticed; possibly even hired.

I heard a loud "DING" followed by some Japanese - the captain told us we were approaching the airport and to fasten our seat belts. Thankfully, I would not be getting eaten by sharks today.

I stepped into the airport, where I was directed to my Charger. The moment I turned the key, I couldn't help but shiver as I heard the deep, throaty growl of the 440 Magnum. I pulled the car out of the airport property and onto the tight, Japanese streets. She was, unsurprisingly, quite the head-turner; these people didn't see these machines to very often, and I was more than happy to give them a little taste of the Star-Spangled 1960s.

Now, I had arrived about a week before my classes start, so I had some time on my hands; I figured I'd take a drive onto one of the many scenic, forested mountains here in the Gunma Prefecture. I reached the top of the mountain. Mt. Haruna? No. Where did I get "Haruna" from? Akina! That was it. As luck would have it, there was a hotel at its peak. Since I wouldn't be moving into my dorm until next Saturday, I thought here would be a lovely place to stay until then.

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, three cars, going WAY faster than the speed limit, pulled up, braked hard, and pulled into the lot as well,

"Akina Speed Stars," I read aloud.

For some reason, the name of their team, or gang, or whatever they were, was written in English on the side of all their cars. The two that caught my eye specifically were a Silvia S13 and a Nissan 180SX. Not wanting to get caught in the middle of a turf war, I slipped inside the hotel. My American brick-on-wheels, however, was my undoing.

Barely having a choice, they noticed my Charger and stalked over to it for a good examination. I really wished I had my SIG P365 on me, but unfortunately, the only form of defense I could find that was legal to carry in Japan was a pair of brass knuckles – which I barely know how to use.

None of them seemed to keen on hurting my car, merely admiring it. They ambled into the hotel, which was almost empty save the clerk and myself, and asked if I owned the machine they'd just finished inspecting. Of course, I told them I did and offered to pop the hood. The Speed Stars seemed more than happy to have a look at whatever made my Mopar move. After getting an eyeful, one held out his hand, and told me his name,

"Koichiro, Iketani" I remembered that, in Japan, people introduce themselves stating their last names first.

"Pierce, Ryker," I shook his hand.

"Y'know," he started, "I'd bet good yen that this would do serious work on the downhill."

"The downhill?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

"A downhill race... On the mountain," he clarified.

"That can't be legal though, right?"

"Well, you do it at 11:30 at night and nobody really cares."

"What about law enforcement?" I asked.

"They don't usually start their rounds till about 5:30," He then added, "and we have people stationed all over, who'll radio if they see traffic."

I thought over that for a moment, then asked,

"Why do you think this would do so well? I mean, this thing would go at a snail's pace down half of these tight hairpins."

"But when drifting," He began, "This gigantic piece of machinery would block the whole road, forcing your opponent to slow down as well."

"But I can't-"

"Then, its excessive power would allow you to pull out of the corner and away from your opponent."

"Um, Iket-"

"Not to mention, on the downhill, its weight would be an ally in this scenario - allowing gravity to pull your car down the mountain, increasing your lead-"

"Can it, skid-boy!" This exclamation was followed by, well, nothing, which was good; that would be why I said it.

"Um, I..." I didn't let him finish that thought.

"I can't drift," I informed him in a much calmer tone, having now gotten my point across, "So none of that was necessarily helpful."

"Well sure you can, all it takes is a little practice," He told me.

"That's the problem, I don't trust myself to take my pride and joy down these mountains anywhere over the speed limit. I restore the classics, I don't race them," Even as I said it, I felt that, one way or another, I'd end up doing just that.

"Why not do both?" Iketani asked me.

"If I wreck this car, I'll never forgive myself."

"Oh. Come. On! That goes for any petrolhead and his project car, but we'll all push our machines one day," I didn't want to admit it, but I knew he was right.

"That's for some people, but not me," I was just spouting crap at this point.

"Suit yourself," He walked to his S13, opened the door, and looked back at me one more time, "But you'll come to realize that I'm right eventually," With that, he climbed into his Silvia and pulled out of the lot, followed by the rest of the Akina Speed Stars

"You'll come to realize that I'm right eventually," Little did he know, I already had.