Hud didn't like fast women, Hud liked fast men. Louise Nash would learn the first half of that statement pretty early on into her friendship with the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, but it would take a cherry red Chrysler with the Coca-Cola insignia and the number fifty seven painted on his side to learn the latter half.

My name is Daytona, Daytona Vett. I'm a model year 1955 Chrysler 300; one of the first actually. You know it's funny how a car's model year works; we're officially considered our make and model at twenty years old when we've reached full maturity but that happens in the fall of the previous year. I'm doing a bad job at explaining this; it's not super complicated but it is strange. To put it simply, on September 17th, 1954, I had turned twenty and was crowned one of the very first Chryslers of the model year for 1955. More '55 Chryslers would come of age throughout 1955 as would most other models, but being one of the first meant that I was snatched up real fast.

We were different to say the least. '55 Chrysler 300's were the first cars to have developed what would come to be known as the hemispherical engine; a "hemi" as most know it. We clocked 300 horsepower through our big eight cylinder engines and two speed powerflite transmissions. We were powerful and we knew it. Sponsors knew it too, and we were quickly drafted by big name companies to race for them in the '55 season. They paraded us as the next big evolution since the Hudson's developed their step-down designs back in '49, and the '55 season was projected to be the craziest in the sport up until that point.

We had become such a big deal so early on that some sponsors got sneaky, and fired their older racers at the end of the '54 season to make room for their new rookies. I was snatched up quickly by Coca-Cola who had never sponsored a racecar before, thus the earliest I could get in was in the '55 season. My crew chief and I had decided however, that I should still go public and sport my new sponsor's colors and number; I even had a set of black wall street tires done up with "dirt track racing" spelled out just like on the actual racing set I would use in the coming season.

Though I wasn't officially racing in the Piston Cup yet, I still made my presence very much known. I would street race against other cars, take part in smaller races, and there were even a few times we'd sneak onto the track the day or so before or after a Piston Cup race to have our own which ended up drawing quite a bit of a crowd.

Intimidating was a word often used to describe us 300's; as was arrogant. Our engines were loud and there were a few who definitely had a stick up their tailpipe who wanted to harass the other racers. Don't get me wrong though, I was certainly arrogant myself. I never took part in ganging up on the other cars though, I've had plenty do it to me if I made the mistake of hitting on a guy I got the wrong signals from. I knew I was a good looking car and I would flaunt myself around like it was a runway show and I was modeling a set of Pirelli's. I became especially vain upon gaining the nickname "Pretty Boy" by other cars and the media; I soaked that shit up.

Clearly my own opinion of myself hasn't changed much has it? I've spent a while talking about who I am but it's probably time I start explaining what I started this whole thing off with. One doesn't allude to a fag relationship between celebrities as small talk. By the way, don't try and get on my bumper about the word fag, I admit to being one whole heartedly and I've never seen anything wrong with it because there isn't. Boys can like boys and this boy had a hard on for Hud, anyway...

The Hudson Hornet was an inspiration for me ever since he debuted in 1951. I'd followed his career since the beginning; soaking in his twenty seven single season wins with absolute awe. I knew that I wanted to race with him, and by the time he'd won his third Piston Cup, I admitted and accepted that I thought the guy was hot. Long story short for this part, when I turned twenty that September in 54' I left my hometown of Rutherford, New Jersey and started scouting for a sponsor in North Carolina. As you know, I got myself a deal with Coke on account of what I was; though I also think my already bright red paint caught their attention too, and started down the path of racing.

By the time I met Hud I'd already been racing a bit and had made a good name for myself. I was quickly gaining a reputation for being particularly graceful on my tires and not relying on the sheer brunt power of my engine to get me ahead; I was smart, I was agile, I was good. I still am those things to this day, I have no shame in saying it.

He and I met the day he won against the, at the time, only 300 in the Piston Cup. I didn't bother to learn his name, he seemed to take an immediate dislike to me. So I decided he wasn't worth my time and filed him away in my mind as just another racer.

Hud had been pushed against the wall a few times by the guy which made me real angry; he was submitting to such a low to keep his lead position and he got what he deserved. Hud ended up driving his passenger side tires up the wall and literally flipping over the guy and taking his lead in the final stretch of the race. Watching that Chrysler's face turn to pure shock at what had happened made me burst out laughing from my spot near the pits and I know for a fact he heard me when he pulled in considering the death glare he shot my way.

I had positioned myself in a spot close to Hud's pit and had been making small talk with his crew chief, Smokey. The guy was real friendly, though he was a bit taken aback to see one of these new rookies acting civilized, especially after seeing what that 300 was trying to do out there on the track. I think I had fully convinced him that I wasn't trying to be nefarious once he saw my genuine guttural laugh at seeing the 300 get his bumper handed to him by Hud. I should actually be pretty grateful for that Chrysler because if it hadn't happened the way it did, Smokey might not have introduced me to his star pupil.

"Hud, I'd like you to meet your competition in a more civilized style. This here's Daytona and he's gonna be racing with you next season." Smokey said as the Hornet drove up towards us with a big shit eating smile on his bumper.

I drove forward and offered my own confident smirk. I had this particular smirk I would do when meeting someone I wanted to like me that I felt complimented my face. I would let my eyelids droop ever so slightly with my mouth upturned to the right a bit and then give a slight tip of my hood at the other car.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hornet. I look forward to racing with you, I've been a fan for a while now."

Hud chuckled and bowed his own hood to me a bit. I won't lie and say that I wasn't flicking my taillights on and off; it's always been a nervous habit of mine.

"Pleasure's all mine. I reckon you'll make next season real interesting. I've seen you before, you've made quite the name for yourself already. Based on what I've seen from you so far, we race pretty similarly, gonna make for some heated moments on the track for sure. Heh heh."

Hud chuckled again but this time i could feel myself grow incredibly warm in the fenders. He knew who I was, at least enough to know my racing style. I of course didn't wanna lose my cool in front of the guy, so I kept my composure and tried to bring my tail light flicking to a minimum.

"I look forward to seeing how our chemistry reacts to one another. Any time you wanna have a little practice run, just let me know."

I replied in a suave tone that Hud seemed to receive quite Cars can be horn balls for sure I won't deny that, and I'd seen my fair share of guys having some post race smooching when no one was looking. I found it funny how taboo being a fairy was considering how many cars I learned were into getting their undercarriage felt up by the other guys themselves from wandering to the backs of some bars where racers would hang out after a few laps.

While I was studying the Hornet's features as he took in my reply and thought of one of his own, he came out with a proposition that almost made me stall; good thing my engine was off.

"Why don't you stop by Smokey's tonight; we can go grab a drink and I can introduce you to some of the other cars you'll be swapping paint with come March."

Hud's voice took on that characteristic friendly tone I'd become so used to hearing when he gave interviews. Say what you will about Hud, but you can't deny that he was always friendly and genuinely interested in making friends out of his fellow racers.

I nodded my hood once in reply before we turned away; both to the respective press who wanted statements and comments on the race. I found it difficult to talk to the reporters that day; my mind was racing thinking about that night.