Sorry for the wait, this one takes more time and I'm more busy lately (also why updates on my other story have slowed down). OK, some response: Eldunari: Thanks very much :) No actually, Bonnie's name is a reference to Sally's voice actor (Bonnie Hunt) and her last name, Wilson is from Lightning's actor, Owen Wilson of course. I know, it is a lame combo but I just had to :P Pancake: Yeah, sorry about that typo, the quotations sometimes get messed up like that when I upload, it's annoying -_- And yes, I have this year and next year of high school to finish and then I plan on attending university to study in English. I may only write in my spare time but I want to find some kind of career that involves creative writing. So that's why it means so much when people compliment my work and style on here :)

CHAPTER FOUR

Bonnie and I began seeing each other on a more regular basis after that blissful teenage night. She picked up a starting job at a small daycare and always kept me up to date with all her latest experiences. It was fascinating to sit at her side, just listening to her bubble with exuberance about the things she encountered.

I remained unemployed myself; my mother never had the energy to haggle me. Besides, I was fairly content with where I was.

But the daily grind did become boring at points, despite being so relaxing. Johnny worked tirelessly at the steel factory, Bonnie had the daycare and even Cindy had found part-time at a diner. I knew I had the whole of my life lying in front of me, and with the restriction of school lifted, it was time to take advantage and make something of it.

It was in unlikely circumstances that I happened to stumble across a new hobby. I was on my way home one day when I came to discover that my usual route was closed due to construction. I had to take a beaten and timeworn back road on the outer part of the residential end of town. It was a dirt path, barely distinct from the empty surrounding land.

Then I spotted a shabby set of wooden grandstands and twisted chain-link fencing. Drawing closer, I could hear ruckus shouts and rumbling engines. Was there actually a functioning racetrack way out here?

It all came into sight shortly. I saw a gang of males- probably ten or so- and all around the same age bracket as me. A group of them tore recklessly around the track while the others hung to the side, smacking on wads of tobacco.

I couldn't turn my eyes away from the unusual and intriguing scene. They looked like a rough crowd, but the giddy amusement in their expressions said otherwise.

"Hey!" a bulky Buick called out.

I studied him for a second, seeing if it was me he was really addressing. He smirked and drove over to me.

I examined his earthy-toned body and droopy eyes, wondering if I should be letting this intimidating stranger approach me.

"What's ya name, kid?" he asked before I had any chance to scoot away. His voice carried a hint of a Boston accent to it.

"Doc Hudson," my name shot out of my mouth without thought.

"Doc, huh? Do they call ya anything else?"

"Nah, not really any nicknames for such a short name," I explained dully.

"Well, my name's Rick, but around here they call me 'Ricky Rocket'," he said with a quirk of his windshield.

I smiled, "Why do they call you that?"

"What do ya think, kid?" he tossed me a wink. "Ya know, we could really use some fresh metal on the team. And I think ya might just be an eligible recruit. How about a lap around the track? I'll show ya how I got my name."

He could see the gears working in my mind as I considered the offer. I glanced over at the track several times, feeling tempted to give it a go. Everyone else had their getaways, I could use one too.

"Just one lap? That's it?" I clarified slowly.

He nodded in compliance and added, "If ya win then I'll promote ya to being our newest rookie."

"Alright, let's do this."

I entered the stadium, attracting stares from the other members. Most of them were regular Fords and Oldsmobiles, but that didn't stop them from sizing me up.

Rick and I situated ourselves at what appeared to be marked out as the start line. I'd had my share of road races, nothing in this fashion though. Didn't races usually take place on some kind of hard surface?

From the corner of my vision, I watched as one of the guys climbed a steep ramp to the podium. I took a deep breath to ready myself as he raised the green flag.

The cloth came swooshing down and I heard Rick take off. I gathered my bearings and plunged off after him. Dirt collected beneath my tires as they rotated furiously, sending the soil spewing behind me.

All the crew looked on intently whilst I kicked up my speed to match up with the so-called 'Rocket'. It was proving to be a rather easy race this far, but the crowd snickered when the first turn presented itself.

Rick boldly continued to accelerate, generating clouds of dust. As for me, I slowed to a more manageable and controlled speed. Corners were always difficult, and under these terrain conditions I didn't know what to expect.

I successfully made the turn with thorough concentration. I carried on and took the next corner in the same style. By this time, I had lost major ground on Rick. If I wanted any chance to win then I'd have to pick up the pace, especially on the turns.

My body was wailing with exertion and the boys were heckling my performance in mocking tones. I set my sight on the upcoming turn and pressed onwards with dangerous speed. I jerked my tires to left without even putting any pressure on my breaks. Suddenly, I felt the earth sliding wildly underneath me, thrusting my body off-course.

The voices in the stands chorused in exclamation, but I blocked them out to a muffle. I had to save myself, and quick. I did the only thing I could think of to counteract my movement; I threw my tires into the reverse direction.

I was no longer wielding aimlessly, I was gravitating back onto the track. I smiled broadly in pure disbelief of my luck. It was still far too late for me to pass Rick, but I finished the race in a solid piece.

I stopped beside Rick, waiting to hear the possibility of praise. He ran his eyes over me in that judgmental way again. Then he smacked my fender with his tire.

"Ya might not have won," he said boastfully, "but that was pretty impressive. We ain't seen nobody make that turn in a good while. You're in."

It felt rewarding to be accepted into the group. I was finally a part of something. We met nearly every day, except for Sundays. I was introduced to the other guys too, and often competed against them. Most everybody had their own show names and unique tricks. I quickly earned a reputation for my mastery skill in drifting. "Turn right to go left," I told them when asked how I maneuvered gracefully. They thought I was joking; trying to keep it secret, when really that was all there was to it.

I spent weeks with the group, refining my techniques and spending day in and day out under the summer sun. I grew close with the gang, learning more about their backgrounds and how they came to join the crew. The only thing I didn't do was chew tobacco; it was a nasty habit in my opinion.

One day, Rick pulled me aside. He led me to the track's original storage shed and ordered me to follow him inside.

I entered the shed and coughed as dust filled my airway. Rick flicked on the overhead light and my coughing finally settled. A small silver item glistened on a workbench in the middle of the room. I drove further into the room for a better view of it.

"Is that a… piston?" I inquired with confusion.

"Yeah," Rick replied, "It is."

I gave him a strange look. "This is what you wanted to show me?"

"Would ya let me explain, hotshot?"

"Oh," I muttered, "Yeah."

Rick stared at the piston and told me, "This here piston belonged to my good friend William. He founded our race group years ago, did a lot for us. Anyways, he's in a better place now, but ever since then we've been holding a race in his honour. His piston was the only thing we were allowed to salvage, so that's what we race for."

Rick moved to the other side of the room. "We've got a plaque with a list of all the winners. I thought ya might be interested in running for it this year."

I nodded vigorously, "I'd love to."

Rick beamed at me and grinned. "Good. There's only one problem. Ya gotta have a race name to enter."

"How about Hornet?" I suggested, "The guys have been calling me that lately."

"Hornet…," he mused, "That might just work. The Hudson Hornet. How's that sound to ya?"

"The Hudson Hornet," I repeated slowly. I smiled eagerly, "That'll work."

I know, they call him "The Fabulous Hudson Hornet" but that will come into play later. This just shows the origins of his nickname. :) Random tidbit: the name William was chosen after William France who founded NASCAR. I also ended up making another new OC, so meet Rick guys! Hopefully this was a good chapter and will keep you interested for more. Please make yourself welcome to leave a review! Thanks for reading!