"Alright alright!" The man on the truck shouted, "It is 6:45. Sun's down and the farmers are home. Let's get this going!"
The crowd cheered and whistled. Dan and Sam nodded, clapping with the crowd.

"First before we do anything. We need to remember why we're here. Tonight, we never race. We never cruise or take the street. But tonight we lost a friend, Jon Anders."

The crowd murmured, apologies, sympathies, cries, they waved through the crowd solid and strong.

"Jon Anders was a magnificent man, who we all knew and loved very much. He was like a father to many of us, a father and a friend, a brother and a member of this family. He passed tonight on the cross street of Fifth and Los Posas. I urge all of us to cruise that corner in remembrance of him. And while we cruise to pray that all of our family come home, safe and sound," The truck guy announced, bowing his head.

The crowd was silent, even the music and growls of engines had been silenced as the car community mourned and prayed together. Dean shuffled his feet nervously, he wasn't a praying type. With all that he'd seen he should be, but he believed in what he could see and more importantly kill. Angels and God he had no proof so why bother? He eyed Sam who's head was bent down in respect but he watched his brother's lips shaped words. Words of comfort? Or a promise to kill whatever hurt these people?

"Thank you. After Jon's car we'll open the street to whoever wants. Let's hear those call outs!" The truck guy roared.

Suddenly hands were raised and voices errupted. Dean took a step back as people challenged eachother.

"I want Sideways Eric! $200!"

"Ha you're on! But I want Rambler Man!"

"After I beat Hector's El Camino!"

"No way! You owe me a race from last week!"

"Shut your mouth Starsky!"

"If you've got what it takes 'Michael Keaton!' $100 right now!"

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

"Call outs," Carena shrugged, "It's what happens."

"Hey hey! Chevy girl looking good!" Another guy joined them, he was taller then the boys, skinny and didn't seem to be much. He wore a beanie and glasses, and acted laid back.

"Hey Herbie!" Carena gave the guy a bear hug and introduced him, "Guys this is Jake or Herbie thanks to that sleeper bug of his. No one ever expects that bug to make it down the track."

"Ha, they should know by now! I mean dude how much did I take from that kid in Burbank? The Mustang guy?" Jake asked.

"Oh Gill? Hahaha! I think you've taken so much he's gonna have to put you on his taxes!" Carena laughed.

"Haha! I know!" Jake eyed Dean quickly, "So you got that Impala in that back?"

"Ya, why?" Dean asked.

"Wanna race? I'll go easy on you. Won't even bet cash."

"No thanks."

"Oh hey we got a call out?" The truck guy asked, coming over, "Race rules, you get called out, you race. Sorry kid."

"I'd rather not," Dean started.

"Oh come on!" Carena joked, "You've got a 327! That's gotta be at least 300 horses, maybe 350 if you built her right."

"Think you're too good to up against a little buggy? Or afraid that a bug will kick your ass?" Jake asked defiantly.

"No!" Dean said defensively, "I'm just not a street racer."

"Ya," Carena snorted, "None of us are street racers. We're just here to howl at the moon."

"Hey what can it hurt?" Sam asked.

"Sam!" Dean practically shouted.

"Then it's settled," The truck guy smiled, "You'll be race #7. It's a lucky number kid and you'll need all the luck you can get."

He, Jake and Carena laughed as Dean fidgeted, he hated being out in the spot light. He eyed Sam for support but Sam looked away chuckling.

"Alright Herb, go get that ol Bug ready," Truck guy smiled as Jake jogged away, "You racing tonight Carena?"

"Na Skeet. Not with the Jon thing," She sighed.

"I get it. Your family was close with him."

"Thanks. I'm actually going to see Bunny after she makes his pass," Carena said.

"Bunny?" Sam asked.

"Jon's wife. It's tradition here if someone passes, their wife or husband, even a close friend takes their car down the road, a final pass," Carena explained.

"Jon was retired, but he had his days. The final pass is like a final rite, puts them to rest. Silly I know, but it's been part of the culture here forever," Skeet explained.

"I see, did your dad, did Paul have a final pass?" Sam asked, perking up at putting a spirit to rest.

"No, we couldn't. Not correctly anyway," Carena looked down sadly, "His car's still in the bottom of the canyon. It blew up in a mushroom. You're supposed to do the pass in their car. Like Bunny will in Jon's old truck. People all over the county came and performed a final pass in tribute though. It was fitting. All of his favorite models and years."

"I'm sorry," Sam sighed.

"Not your fault," Carena's eyes flashed, "He's at rest now. I know that. I have to know that."

Dean nodded, he could understand her need for it to be final. His dad was still out there somewhere He had no idea if he was dead or not and it gnawed at him every second of every day.

Skeet suddenly was called away and the boys followed Carena back to her car, she popped her hood and began checking her fluids.

"So you're racing. I hope you got your tools and everything's running. You can walk around and question people all you want, but no one will give you anything good until you prove yourself," Carena explained, sliding the dipstick back for the oil, she popped the radiator cap off and topped off antifreeze.

"So tell me about these rules? Like I said I'm not a racer and this is a new city for me," Dean asked.

"It's simple," Carena explained, wiping her hands clean on a rag.

"Skeet will call the race, you pull up, you'll flip a coin for whatever lane unless you want to default the choice to Herbie. Skeet will pull up to the line, he'll bang the light, you launch and haul your heavy ass Impala down to the finish. Ricky at the end will snap a photo finish, call up to Skeet with the results. You swing around and either get booed off the street or get some credibility. Race is only an eighth mile, short and you'll know the finish line with the checkered flag on the sides."

"Sounds simple," Sam said.

"Ya, be lucky Herbie called you out. Some of the races get nasty."

"How do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well if your car jumps before the line, you lose automatically, you cross the line you lose. Your car breaks before you get to the line you lose. Not to mention you run the risk of literally anything and everything happening during the race. Your car blows up, you pop the tires, spin out, the other guy crosses and hits you. For those brief seconds in the race, you flying, but you could be speeding to your death at who knows how much power," Carena explained, "It's dangerous, but the rewards? Unlike anything."

Dean shared a look with Sam. They had run ins with real danger, real monsters. They could have died at any point in their lives, they could die from any monster they came across on this job, but it was a job. If this race could get them the in card they needed to talk to people, then they had to take that chance. Dangerous as hell, but worth it.

"Alright then," Dean clapped his hands together, "Let's get Baby ready."