Chapter 7 Saturday Night Special.

"I still can't believe those guys." Keisuke said, agitated.

"Mike and his team?" Ryosuke said, more as a statement of fact to confirm what his brother was talking about.

"Yeah, of all the sneaky under handed things to do. They knew exactly what we were doing when we were doing it.

"Yes, but how much tougher would our lives have been had they not invited us to use their facilities?" Ryosuke paused. "Given the opportunity, would you not have done the same thing? This is competition, and true competitors are always looking for an edge. Mike saw an opportunity and took it. Let's not forget whose house this is, and who came with us the other night to Roy's?"

"I know, but it's different Aniki." Keisuke said.

"How is it different?" Ryosuke asked calmly. After years of racing with his brother Keisuke knew the beginning of a lecture when he heard one. "In Medway Mike and his team did have the advantage or being able to see what we were doing to prepare our cars for the races, but they were also running a business, so they could not pay as much attention to us as you think. They were also relatively unfamiliar with our cars. Even though the 86, FC, FD, and S14 were all sold in the United States they never had the same level of performance as our home market cars. Because they were never sold in as great number here they also have not been able to foster the same following as in Japan. . ."

". . . They should have," Keisuke interrupted, "They're better than what the American's drive."

"Do you mean what Japanese companies sold here, or what the American sell here?"

"Everything." Keisuke said with indignation. "I still haven't seen an American car that really makes me pay attention, sure the Mustangs and Camaros are rear wheel drive, so that's a start, but they don't handle as well, they're motors are outdated, the suspensions are crude, ugh." Keisuke groaned.

"Have you driven one?" Ryosuke asked. "This is a free market economy, the mere fact that fewer Japanese performance cars were sold here seems to contradict your statement." Ryosuke stopped and looked at his brother for a few seconds.

"The American cars are so much cheaper." Keisuke finally said in disgust. "You can't compete like that in a free market."

"If the cars were as superior as you believe people would be willing to spend the money. The car market in America is drastically different from that at home. In Japan there is significantly more competition, especially in performance cars. At home Mazda, Toyota, Nissan, Mitsubishi, and Subaru all sell performance cars, in addition to all of those cars you have Ford, Chevrolet, and Dodge selling performance cars in America, not to mention other makers from Europe that aren't seen as often in Japan."

"I guess," Keisuke said begrudgingly, "But I still think our cars are better."

"Getting back to the point however, here we are up against the same problem that Mike was up against with us. We are confronted with a group of cars that we're not familiar with because they were not sold in Japan, and the few examples that have been imported are in the hands of collectors who rarely use them. Instead of having a passing knowledge of the vehicles like Mike and his team did, we have Stevie at our disposal, who knows these cars better than any of us could hope to learn in our time here."

"It doesn't matter Aniki, it was still underhanded, and dishonest. The only reason I'm not angrier about it is because we won most of the races."

Keisuke, we didn't win those races because Mike failed to understand the capabilities of our cars, or our drivers, we won those races because we controlled the majority of the variables."

"What?" Keisuke asked, his mouth hanging open a fraction of an inch.

"In racing there are variables, and there are different types of variables."

"Of course Aniki." Keisuke said impatiently, wanting to be almost anywhere else.

"What you need to realize." Ryosuke continued, "Is that there are three types of variables in racing, and we only exert control over one of those. The first group is the most obvious, the environmental group. This includes not only the weather conditions but that of the course itself because it forms part of the environment we'll be racing in. Things like the condition of the road, the texture of the pavement, the width, the transitions from one section of pavement to the next, the proximity of obstacles like mailboxes, trees and houses, the locations of leaves, branches and other road debris. We have very little if any control over this group of variables.

"The second group is our opponent. Again we have little if any control over this group. His temperament, his car, how prepared he is, his aggressiveness, and course knowledge. We can estimate his vehicle performance by taking carful not of modifications, and comparing against stock specifications, as well as observations if we have an opportunity to observe a race. There are a few things we can do to affect the driver's temperament, but these have less and less effect the more experienced the opponent."

Keisuke looked at his brother, knowing that he would not be free to go until Ryosuke was finished. So for everything he said made sense.

"The third variable falls completely under our control, and that's our own preparation, hew well each of us knows the course, how well the cars are set up for the course, the suspension settings, the tune of the motor. Knowing those places where you can find that extra five centimeters and knowing that the car will hold on at the limit. The goal is to be so familiar with the course and have the confidence in the car that you no longer have to think about, you can focus on exploiting weaknesses in the other driver's technique, or a limitation in his car that can be exploited.

"What Mike did was try to give his team another advantage, to take an edge by exploiting a variable that he now had some understanding of. It is sneaky, yes, but he was looking for a competitive edge, he wanted to win, and is driven to win, that kind of determination is tough to find in many street racers. The majority of street racers do not have that drive, or commitment, they do it for fun, or to be 'cool,' perhaps even to impress their friends. But most very quickly reach either their talent or monetary limits and that is either where they maintain, or quit.

"If pushed, Mike would go one of two ways," Ryosuke paused, Keisuke waited, he was interested to hear what his brother had to say. It wasn't really changing his opinion of their previous opponent, but the theory like all of Ryosuke's others was sound.

Ryosuke picked up where he'd left off. "Like yourself and Takumi Mike has two paths, when someone starts to push him. He will either rise to the occasion learn from every new challenge and continue to refine his technique and become a good perhaps even world class racer, or team manager. Or of course he will fail, drop off, he will return to that small and winding road around the lake and rule their until his reflexes diminish or he gets tired of not being challenged and quits."

"What do you think will happen?" Keisuke asked, knowing that his brother already had an answer that would more than likely turn out to be true.

"I don't know, he hasn't been challenged enough."

"You sound like you're recruiting him almost." Keisuke said with disdain that turned to mild shock when his brother didn't respond right away.

"Recruit for what?" Ryosuke said matter of factly, but Keisuke was sure that he could hear a little hint of melancholy in his brother's voice. "Besides, I don't have enough information to come up with an accurate simulation. Even if I wanted to recruit someone like Mike I would need considerably more information before I could make a credible assessment as to whether he would be able to handle the pressure of a professional racing career."

"Do you plan on trying to get more data? Are you going to watch him race somebody else?"

"No." The older Takahashi brother said. "I was merely stating a fact that I don't have enough data to make a fair assessment about Mike's ability, and potential for a professional racing career."

"Alright Aniki." Keisuke offered.

•••

"Do you see that up ahead?" Brian Jennings asked his cousin Liam riding shotgun.

"What, that old Caprice in front of us?" Liam responded, he was sprawling out on the wide bucket seat Dodge had seen fit to grace the charger with.

"No, up ahead of the Caprice." Brian said getting a little agitated with his cousin.

"Funny thing about Caprices, they're big and tough to see around." Liam responded. He leaned a little to his right to see if he could catch a glimpse of the other car Brian was talking about. The road curved gently to the right allowing Liam a handful of seconds to identify the vehicle in question.

He didn't need that long.

"That looks like Ty's car." Liam finally offered. Looking at the Calypso Coral Boss Mustang.

"Now, what do you suppose he's doing up here?" Brian asked.

"Probably the same thing we're doing up here, looking to see what's happening on the Shammel Highway."

"I'm gonna pass 'em!" Brian stated emphatically. "Show that Ford boy whose boss."

Liam rolled his eyes and pushed himself higher in his seat. "Come on Brian, I don't think now is the right time. We're going to the same place he'll know what we're doing. And you don't want to piss him off before the night even starts."

Brian looked over at his cousin with a devious grin that told Liam that his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

Letting out a loud rebel yell Briand Shifted down to third gear, the 440 Mopar big block joining his call. The two young men were pushed back in their seats by the sudden acceleration. The Charger moved out around the Caprice, catching and passing Ty in one swift move. From the driver's seat he let out a loud Yeehaw, as they thundered pass.

"Friggin' Jennings." Tyrone uttered as he watched the Orange Charger speed away, anger bubbling just below the surface, it was neither the time nor the place.

Bud stepped out onto the porch of his house and took a deep breath, the setting sun's rays fell warm on his shoulders and he gazed over to the open door of the barn. There the nose of his Mustang poked out from the door. Finally the weather was cooperating enough for him to go to the Shammel. Earlier in the day he had washed and then waxed the car, even though the nearly new paint had only a thin layer of dust on it from sitting in the barn.

He walked over to the car, twirling the keys and the Cobra logo keychain that had come with the car. The door popped open with a satisfying sound, and just as he sat down in the racing bucket Bud became acutely aware of the hoard of butterflies taking flight in his stomach. I'm not nervous, he told himself, just excited. Excited because he got to drive his car for the first time for real. Excited because he was going to the Shammel Highway for the first time. Excited because he could really impress Mallory. . .or he could look like a fool, and he knew it. Quickly casting those thoughts out of his mind he pushed the gas pedal to the floor, then the clutch before working the shifter back and forth in the neutral gate. Finally he twisted the key, the motor cranked and ignited into a thunderous roar that echoed off the tool boxes and old wood walls of the barns. Bud felt a tingle start in his stomach, work its way up his spine and finally spread across his mouth in a wide, childish grin.

The orange needle on the tachometer mounted in the center of the dash settled to a raucous idle just under 1,000 RPM, the solid valve lifters clattering away under the hood, the exhaust throbbing loudly just a few feet below Bud's ears. He waited until the car had warmed up. Nobody was going to meet him here or someplace in downtown, he wasn't looking to make an entrance with a team or anything like that, he just wanted to make sure Mallory had enough time to make it there before he arrived.

"Ugh, where is Bud? He said he was going to be here." Matt groaned.

"He probably spaced out and forgot." Grizz said.

"Either that or he's with Mallory." Scott said, with just a hint of disdain.

"Yeah, maybe." Matt shrugged, "I knew we should have showed up at his house to make sure he made it here tonight." He was a little disappointed. The amount of time they'd not been able to race because of rain Matt had had a lot of time to work on his car, a new set of five spoke alloy wheels, real dual exhaust, unlike the system Chevy had put in place. Matt scanned the cars that had assembled in the field that night, looking to see if he had missed his friend, the truth was that he didn't know how Bud had painted the Mustang. Most of the cars were familiar, Chris, Jason and Sung were all there of course, Tyrone was there too, and somebody even showed up with a General Lee look alike. He thought it was kind of neat but there was still no sign of Bud. Mallory was even there too, Matt had thought that they would show up together. Cars were still coming in though, so there was still the possibility that Bud would show.

"Hey guys." Mallory said as she walked over to where her three schoolmates were standing.

"Hi Mallory." Matt said, Scott merely gave a curt nod.

"Have you guys seen Bud?" She asked, with a confused, almost concerned face.

"Nope, we were going to ask you the same question." Grizz said.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, he told me he would meet me here."

"Yeah, but you know how he forgets things." Matt said.

"I guess." Mallory shrugged, her stomach suddenly sinking. "So what's his car like? He wouldn't show me."

"You mean you haven't seen it either?" Grizz asked.

"No." Mallory said a little sheepishly, "I just kind of figured he would have showed it off to you guys."

"Not yet. Matts the only one who's seen the car besides Bud."

"And when I saw it, it looked like crap." Matt said.

"He didn't even tell me what color he was going to paint it." Mallory said again.

"Me neither." Matt seconded.

Across the field from the high schoolers Chris Duntov looked around, taking in the field the sights and sounds of performance cars. Ty had pointed out the Jennings boys when he'd arrived and informed Chris that they would probably be gunning for him tonight.

"Are you gonna race tonight?" Sung asked. "Or are you gonna wait for the ghost?" That was one of the annoying things about Sung, his voice was always so mellow it seemed like he didn't care.

"It doesn't matter anyways." Jason said. "If the Galaxie shows up tonight, I get first shot."

"Yeah. I guess that's only fair." Chris said. "Ty are you sure the Jennings are here to challenge someone?"

"Yeah, course they are, why else would they be here?"

"I don't know, they showed up in one car, I would think they would use at least two if they were going to try and make a statement."

"Maybe they're here to check out the scene ole' man."

"It's possible." Chris said as he contemplated the bright orange Charger with the Stars and Bars on the roof. He trusted Ty's assessment of their talent, but a Charger just wasn't going to match up well against his Corvette, it was just too big and too heavy. It seemed like the two were looking for somebody, or a certain car. It was no secret who was fastest on the Shammel Highway, people came from all around to race Chris, Jason and Mallory, and they were all here, five minutes and a few questions and the Jennings would know exactly which cars, and drivers they were looking for, but they seemed to be focused on something else. In the distance, he could hear another car approaching.

Bud downshifted as he approached Yates Road a few seconds later he pulled through the gate to the field. He moved slowly down the aisle in first gear the motor rumbling. While trying to make sure he didn't run anybody over Bud had failed to realize the amount of people looking in his direction, when he finally did his cheeks grew red with embarrassment immediately. Quickly he started looking for a spot to park, but all of the spots near the gate were taken. More and more people looked, stared at Bud and his car, making him more and more embarrassed. I would probably pick the wrong car. The words echoed in his head. He had clearly picked the wrong car. Bud pulled into the first gap in the cars he found, nose first breaking what was clearly the protocol of backing in. Hopefully fewer people would notice this way. Apparently he had picked so badly that it interested people. Bud was sure they had come to laugh at him. He climbed out of the car with a bit of a deer in the headlights look, not sure where the first joke or insult was going to come from.

"What's up with the taillights?" Someone asked from the back of the car.

"They were put in when the car was in Europe." Bud explained quickly, his voice shaky. "They had to have orange turn signals." Bud's heart sank, knowing this was only the beginning.

"Looks kinda neat." The other offered.

"This thing sounds pretty good, what's under the hood?" A guy standing near Bud asked.

"Just a 289."

"It's a K-code right?"

"I don't know." Bud said. "It's the 289 that came with the car."

"Bud!" Mallory called, and he looked up, not realizing how nervous he had been until Mallory and his friends showing up made him twice as nervous as he had been.

"We were beginning to think you had forgotten about tonight." Grizz said.

"Nah." Bud responded.

"You guys never believe me." Matt said.

Mallory on the other hand was busy making her way around the dark green and silver Mustang. It looked like a GT350, it had all the hardware, at least that she could see, even the interior was gutted. She completed her lap around the car and came up behind Bud. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forward.

"I heart this car." She said in Bud's ear, and he could just picture her smile.

Bud's already quick pulse got another ten times faster. Now it didn't matter what anybody else thought about the car, it had passed the only test it had needed to. People continued to ask questions, which Bud was suddenly much more comfortable answering. The crowd continued to grow and shift as people came to get a look at the car that nobody had seen before, it got to the point that Chris, Sung and Jason couldn't ignore. The three made their way over to the car and worked through the crowd until they were standing among the inner ring of people.

"So, this is the car you were looking for a battery for." Chris finally said the crowd grew quiet.

"Yeah," Bud said, "It took a lot to get it to look like this."

"I bet it did." Chris offered. "Looks excellent, you going to race it after you put some time in on the Shammel?"

"I could race it tonight." Bud said in a tone that was neither arrogant nor bragging.

"The Shammels kind of tough kid." Jason put in. "It takes a lot of practice before you can start to run it. Just ask your girl."

"I have lots of practice." Bud said, continuing in his usual kind of spacey tone, "I run it every night almost in my Dad's old Galaxie."

The crowd fell silent. The Shammel Ghost was real, and he was a kid.

"We're racing tonight, 10 p.m." Jason ground out, and you won't beat me again."