2 Enter the Drifter
A few Days later. . .
The exhaust note jumped up an octave as Mike punched the throttle exiting the last turn on the Populatic Street course. Clutch, shift third gear, and the big Windsor was just hitting its stride at 70 mph. The cool early morning air whipped over the windshield and through Mike's dark brown hair. So many races had been one on this stretch of road, for it was the beginning and the end of the Populatic course. There were cars that Mike had beaten off the line and had such a big lead by the second turn that the rest of the race was just a formality. Then there were the races when he'd been passed and managed to keep up with the other driver, out accelerating the other car coming out of the last turn. Most of the competitors with smaller displacement motors couldn't match the torque provided by 351 cubic inches (5.8L) of Detroit Muscle.
The needle on the reverse throw speedometer edged past 100mph before Mike began to slow down, enjoying the simple freedom supplied by driving excessively fast in a convertible. He stopped in the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse at the end of the street. He shut down the car before stepping out, taking care not to touch the superheated sidewinder exhaust. Mike lit a cigarette and looked through the trees to the eastern horizon. The sun was just pushing through in a brilliant display of orange, red and yellow. The whole time the cooling motor and exhaust was making metallic ticking sounds.
Mike looked back down at his pride and joy, his Electric green Cobra, sure it was a kit car, sure it wouldn't be worth as much as a real Shelby Cobra, and the performance wasn't as earth shattering, but it was his. He had spent so many hours working to save money for the kit, and then the different components that would be needed, and once that was done he spent countless more hours putting it together, and once that was done, even more hours adjusting the suspension, the brakes, but it was worth it, it was his, no one else could say that, and there were very few people that could say their car was as unequivocally theirs as Mike's Cobra was his.
There had never been another possibility for him though, he had grown up around cars, his father driving a 1982 Mustang GT, his uncle driving a 1967 Corvette Convertible. One of his first words had been carburetor. Many of his earliest memories involved the car show that his family ran in town, there was always a good mix, from Model T Fords to Lamborghini Countachs. Cars were in his blood, they were something to be cared for like a child, and exercised like a professional athlete. Growing up around cars and some of the best machines to come out of Detroit influenced Mike from an early age. There was just something about the raw power of cubic inches, the aroma of smoking tires, the bellowing exhaust, and the sheer exhilaration of being pinned back in the seat under extreme acceleration.
Japanese cars were all well and good, they built some very good, very fast automobiles. Mike wasn't as religiously anti Japanese cars as Fox was. There was nothing wrong with an RX-7, 300 ZX, Supra, or the like when they were well done, even in stock form they were good cars, they just couldn't match the felling that Mike got from driving something with a massive V8 under the hood. The sun was much bigger by the time Mike finally pulled himself away from his reminiscing, a bright red ball in the sky.
RED!
Like the rising sun of the Japanese flag, they were still out there, and they would be gunning for him and his team sooner or latter. I should have pushed harder! Mike thought tilting back the Boston Red Sox cap that he always wore. I can go faster! I need to go faster! Nobody comes around here and is gonna show me up on my home turf. Not on the course that I laid out! Mike blue eyes narrowed as he stomped out the cigarette butt.
•••
A few miles away, in Milford.
"You know that reminds me of home." Ryosuke said, leaning against his car as he smoked a cigarette.
"Yeah." His younger brother responded looking at the bright red sunrise as well. "It makes me feel as if we can't afford to fail."
"Of course we have intention of winning, the problem is the way they race over here."
"What with poorly modified cars, not to mention that for the most part they drive like jerks anyways." Keisuke said with disgust.
"There is of course that." Ryosuke said maintaining his composure. "But something tells me these Dukes of Windsor aren't like that. The real problem is that we have to be ready to race on any of a number of courses at the drop of a hat. I've herd mention of at least five or six different courses in the area. We have to start training, and training hard."
"Jeez, I thought you might lighten up on another continent. Don't forget that we have to get some of the locals to show us these places before we can do anything." That was his brother, all the worlds' problems could be solved by intensive training and cryptic secret plans.
"Yes of course, but Kenta dispatched that kid in the Eclipse easily."
"He did, I used to hate how we had to wait until we were 18 to get our drivers license, but if this how we would have driven I think it was worth the wait." His brother didn't respond right away, taking a drag of his cigarette and looking at the ground before speaking again. It made Keisuke feel a little strange, and he knew that Ryosuke was going to give him some news that he didn't want to hear.
"I know you want to race here, but I think I want Takumi to take the next race, I want to see how he copes." Keisuke shrugged but didn't respond, biting back a reply or any of the number of reasons he should take the next race instead of Takumi. "The problem around here." Ryosuke started again, "Is that most of the places these kids race are on old narrow roads, that don't leave even the slightest margin of error while drifting."
"And that's Takumi's strong point." Keisuke supplied all too quickly. "That's why I should take the next race."
"That's right." Ryosuke said, keeping his composure as his brother continued to loose his. "But Takumi has so much natural talent that I know he can adapt to gripping corners as opposed to drifting everything he comes across. I bet there are places where drifting can also be executed, it'll be the combination of the two styles that will yield the fastest times." The elder Takahashi paused for a second. "I want to Takumi to take the next race so I can keep and eye on him the first time out, I know you want to be a professional racer, and Takumi lately has been the biggest challenge to you, but I know that you can figure this out on your own, but Takumi will just go into a race thinking he can drift all of the turns around here like he did on the mountains back home, and he'll wind up going home in a neck brace, minus one well prepped AE86. I have confidence in you, that's why I want Takumi to go first, because I know you can handle yourself." Ryosuke said looking fondly at his younger brother.
"Yeah let's hope he doesn't wind up in the trees." Keisuke uttered.
"He needs to adjust and he can do it, he has as much natural talent as any of use, the difference is he just need someone to show him the way."
"Right." Keisuke sighed.
•••
Takumi was driving the 86 down Beaver St. in Bellingham. It connected from Hartford Ave, to route 109 in Milford near where the members of Project D were staying. Ryosuke was riding shotgun, it was supposed to be an easy drive to familiarize Takumi with the course.
"I don't know if I can get used to this driving on the wrong side f the road." Takumi said absently, going about 30 miles per hour.
"Yeah I know." Ryosuke responded, "It won't matter when we're racing though. I brought you out here because you're going to need to adjust to the different set of challenges."
"Right." Takumi answered knowing he had to be on top of this.
"This isn't going to be like racing on the mountains, there's not a lot of space on these roads to drift, the margin for error is next to nothing. I think the best approach is to grip most of the corners, and only drift when there's lots of room. No reason to come all this way to wreck the 86."
"This reminds me of the time I raced in Saitama, against Wataru." Takumi said as the 20 valve motor sung along in third gear. "The poor road conditions and the banks on the side, not to mention how narrow the roads are." He said.
"You raced in Saitama?" Ryosuke asked.
"Yeah, like I said, it was a lot like this, but I never mentioned it because it was before you came to me with your proposal, for the Project."
Ryosuke didn't respond, he knew Takumi had won, he always won, but this fit with his education of Takumi well. Another thought flashed through Ryosuke's supercomputer brain. Takumi had said the roads were narrow, like the one they were on now, and it was before Ryosuke had been able to help Takumi's burgeoning talent, he would have drifted all the corners, maybe he would be able to do it here too.
Takumi glanced in the rearview mirror, and spotted the bright orange Z32 300 ZX rocketing up behind them. Takumi kicked the clutch, and downshifted, the modified 4A-GE changing its tone completely. Ryosuke was stunned for a second as his head swiveled around looking for what caused Takumi to do this.
"Takumi, take it easy, you've never raced here before. You should try and grip more here than drift." Ryosuke said quickly.
Takumi though and agitated side long glance at his mentor. "Just let me drive." He ground out. The other car closed the gap, with a high speed rolling head start on the 86 it wasn't to hard.
"Alright, be careful though, there's a side street that goes through an industrial park that'll still be crowded at this time of day."
The road opened up approaching a set of lazy uphill S turn. The Z32 shot by on the outside of the 86, charging up the hill. Takumi simply straightened the line through the S turns instead of drifting, it wasn't needed and he knew it. The bright orange car was only a little ways ahead and Takumi knew he could catch him.
Ryosuke now recovered from his split second stunning focused on the bright orange car roaring ahead of them. The driver set up for a moderate right hander , tapped the brakes and went full bore into the corner, it leaned heavily, probably a result of its weight. Ryosuke lost sight of the car for a second as Takumi set the 86 into a drift, it was best not to disturb Takumi while he was driving. Ryosuke held tight as Fujiwara worked his magic. He followed very close as the two cars rounded a gradual left hand turn, it opened up to a long climbing straightaway, and the 300ZX got a little bit of room, courtesy of 3.0L of turbocharged V6. Takumi put the hammer down and followed closely.
Ryosuke focused on the other car ahead of them, running up his mental chassis dyno, there were discernable modifications to the suspension. It all went so fast though, the straightaway ended in a much tighter pair of S turns going downhill, Takumi drifted the first one, G-forces squeezing Ryosuke against the door, then just as quickly it reversed sending him leaning towards the middle of the car. The two cars charged down and other straightaway and emerged at the end of the industrial park road. The last stretch before they came back to the main road was wide, and well paved. Once upon a time it had been a two way road, but now it was a one way.
Takumi gripped the first slight left hand turn, setting the 86 into a drift as the turn tightened into the seconds left. Takumi rode the outside line as the Z32 driver moved to the inside line, tires squealed, engines revved as the 86 overtook the 300ZX on the outside. Takumi then inertia drifted into the last right hand turn, slowing down on exit as they came back to the heavily trafficked main road. Ryosuke realized that Takumi could drift the 86 anywhere, anytime.
•••
"Where the hell are these foreign tuner punks?" Fox grumbled. It had been nearly a week since Mike had told them not to drive their cars to work. "I'm tired of leaving the 'Stang at home and having to drive my Taurus, it's to nice out." Fox stood just under six feet, of stocky build with dark hair.
Molly looked up at the piercing blue sky, it was one of the nicest days of the summer so far. The four friends stood in the relative shade of the garage bay, waiting for customers who wanted gas, or a repair. Mike Fox and John were mechanics, they had finished the days work and now had to wait out the rest of the day.
"I haven't seen them anywhere. If their around they're not racing." Fox grumbled again.
"Well Fox, its not like their gonna have the rising sun painted on the side of the car." Mike said. As soon as he said that a loud rumble was heard from down the street. As the sound grew louder Mike looked at John and then to Molly, they all knew who it had to be. The first car to the pump was a white RX-7, followed by a yellow late model RX-7, an old Toyota Carolla, a red Nissan product that Mike didn't recognize, and at last a black Skyline GT-R. Mike looked closer at the white RX-7, obviously the leaders car, on the flank was a sticker that read; Red Suns, with a bright red sun in between the words.
"What was that about the Rising Sun?" Fox asked with a cocky grin.
"Alright, shut up." Mike said as he walked over to the lead car. The driver got out from the opposite side of the car. He struck Mike as tall for an Asian, well dressed with black hair. He came from money that much was apparent, but then again, you would almost have to, to undertake what they were here to do.
"Hi there, what can I do for you?" Mike asked as he approached.
"I heard we could high octane gas here." The other responded.
"Well I got 94 octane at the pump here and one around back with 102, but your cars are to new to run it." Mike said, he knew full well though that Japanese Domestic Market cars could.
"We run 102 octane back home in Japan." The driver of the white RX-7 responded. By now all the other drivers were out of their cars, they all looked to be somewhere in their twenties, accept for the driver of the Carolla, he seemed to be still in High school. What a lucky kid, touring the world to race cars still while still in High School.
"Alright then, as long as you don't come back and sue me if your cars aren't running any more. I'm Mike Sarazin, and I bet I'll be seeing a lot of you guys." Mike said extending his right hand.
"Takahashi Ryosuke, call me Ryosuke." The other said grasping Mike's hand firmly. "Why do you think you'll be seeing us a lot?"
"We're the only place around here that sells high octane gas."
"Wait you mean to tell me that all these cars around here are running 93?" Ryosuke said with a mixture of surprise and disgust.
"Most of them don't even run that, people like to buy 87 octane because it cheep, disgusting isn't it?"
"Yes it is, so about the gas?" Ryosuke said.
"Right, there's a pair of pumps sitting down around the side of the building." Mike pointed. "It's full serve."
"Thank you." Ryosuke responded getting back into his car and pulling it down the side of the building, the other cars followed.
"John, get down here. We need to pump some gas." Mike called back to the bay. Mike popped open the gas door on the white RX-7. Ryosuke stepped out of the car and over to Mike.
"Fill it up." He said.
"So you guys are from Japan? What are you doing around here?" Mike asked.
"Racing." Ryosuke responded. "We dominated our Prefecture back in Japan, and thought the next big step in proving ourselves was to come to America."
"Sounds like fun, I'd like to get a chance to race in Japan." Mike said, and then realized that he might have given himself away, quickly he came up with something to distract the other, before he realized what Mike had said. "So what do you think so far."
"You mean besides not being able to find good gas. I'm rather disappointed, there's a lot of people running around with big rims, and giant exhaust tips and think they can run with real cars."
"Huh," Mike scoffed, "You're telling me."
"That and having to tune our cars in parking lots."
Mike's ears perked up at the thought of that, he quickly got an idea. "I could rent you guys one of our bays, we never use all five bays during most weeks. You'll have access to everything we have, tire machine, compressed air, and lifts, I'm sure that'll help. Of course this hinges on the fact that you guys try to stay out of way and don't interfere with out money making."
Ryosuke looked sidelong at Mike before answering, mulling over the proposition in his head. "How much?" Ryosuke asked cautiously.
"Seventy-five dollars a week, American." Mike responded, "If your gonna race you should at least be able to have decent facilities."
Again Ryosuke didn't respond right away. "Alright, sounds good."
"Great, now lets get to know you're guys." Mike said slapping Ryosuke on the back.
"Alright." Ryosuke said, with no where near the same amount of enthusiasm that his American counterpart displayed. "This is my brother, Keisuke, one of our aces. Fujiwara Takumi, our other ace, Nakamura Kenta, a member of the Red Suns, he does video, and other things, Nakazato Takeshi, Fumihiro, my right hand man, and Matsumoto."
Mike looked them over, the driver of the other RX-7 was clearly the leader's brother, despite the spiked and bleached hair. The others how ever, just seemed to be like any other team, a group of drivers. What surprised Mike the most was the two youngest drivers, Kenta and Takumi, they both appeared to be still in or just recently graduated from High School, and the fact that Takumi was one of the aces, while their were clearly older, more experienced drivers on the team, he has to be something special. Mike thought.
"What's going on?" Keisuke asked his brother in Japanese.
"Mike is going to allow us to rent some garage space and give us access to power tools." Ryosuke responded in his native tongue.
His brother held back his initial agitated reply, he didn't want to give his emotions away Mike, he didn't understand Japanese. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He finally asked instead. "He could be giving information about us to the local racers."
"You know me better than that brother, of course I realized this." Ryosuke responded coolly. "But he's giving us access to tools compressed air, and lifts. Because until we face the team that he's given information too we'll be better prepared than we would otherwise."
"It doesn't matter how much information he wants to give to anyone, we're still better than anyone around here." Keisuke responded.
"That we've run into yet." Ryosuke reminded him.
"Besides, as long as I don't have to lay on my back to change the oil in my car, I'll be happy."
"He said we can have one of the bays out front. We need to start to prep for this weekend, when the people come out with their cars. We're going to Beaver Street tonight. Takumi wants to take on that guy in the Z32, if he can find him."
"So Takumi's car first?" Matsumoto said as he walked over.
"Yes." Ryosuke responded. "I don't think it needs much, but just to be prepared."
"Alright Boss, I'll get it in the bay as soon as its full of gas."
Once the cars were filled with gas Mike and John went back to the office of the station.
"What are you doing Mike?" John asked with surprise.
"What do you mean?" Mike asked, putting on his best innocent, hurt look.
"You're renting one of our bays to them. You're making things easier on them then they need to be. . ."
"What, you don't think we can beat them? I don't know about you, but I wouldn't feel as good beating some guy who tried to tune his car in a hotel parking lot." Mike paused. "Besides, it let's us keep an eye on them, and find out some things that might help."
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