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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Grip - 9. Chapter 9

Late afternoon, somewhere in Moscow.

Behind some old and disused warehouses, Boomer’s Peugeot 206 GTi was screaming down the pavement. He went down one stretch in between two large warehouses and made a sharp left as he came out. He then drove down the back of the warehouse and made another sharp left as he reached the corner and drove back down the length of the warehouse as fast as he could.

When he reached the end he made right, drove down the front of the warehouse, made another right to drive down its length, and started the same process all over again.

What Boomer was doing was essentially using a row of three warehouses as a very big slalom course where he would drive around the warehouses by driving in and out between the large structures. Upon reaching the last warehouse he would simply go back in the reverse direction.

By the time he finished one lap he would hit the stopwatch that’s been hanging from his rear-view mirror. He looked at the time. It read 1:15:49.

“Dammit!” he cursed in apparent disappointment.

Boomer repositioned his car at his designated starting position which was basically a huge oil stain on the ground left by some truck in the past. He restarted the stopwatch and tried again, going from 0 to 60 in about 4.5 seconds. He had to get better.

It has been a couple of weeks since the incident of Boomer’s crash at his failed race at the docks. In that time Max has gotten used to doing some work at Jae’s garage for those few days a week he has of free time. In that time span, Max had gotten in good relations with most of the Racers in the scene and he himself has been receiving some attention, developing a reputation with a few wins under his belt. Jae and he got along well despite Jae’s early reservations about him. Mrs. Cooper and Max were getting along the most. Boomer on the other hand was having a lousy time coping with Max’s presence.

Max could understand this. He knew Boomer was extremely eager to prove himself as a top level street racer while everybody else knew otherwise. Max could relate. He’d been down that road before and he knew from his own experience that Boomer was still a long way away from being recognized.

Boomer didn’t like the fact that Max was his assigned tutor. He knew how to drive and didn’t need a pizza boy to show him how. Max’s response to that was his typical dismissal of the notion. Max told Boomer he wanted him to prove he was the better driver on the road.

So followed several days of Boomer giving challenge after challenge to best Max in a race which Max always accepted. It didn’t matter whether it was a straight up drag race or a more complicated circuit race. And every single time, Max won the challenge. It was soon clear that Boomer and his car was nowhere near the level Max and the XKR were and after too much of Jae’s frustrated insistence, Boomer resigned himself to be under Max’s tutelage.

The weeks had given them more than enough time; Boomer’s car was fixed and as good as new. Also, at Max’s suggestion they adjusted the suspension a bit because according to him, Boomer’s aggressive driving style wasn’t matched for soft springs. Boomer was displeased about this, but he did it nonetheless and Boomer’s performance had, in fact improved slightly.

But that was less than what Boomer wanted. As he finished what would be his third lap around this course he looked at the stopwatch that was still running. He was two corners away from finishing the lap but by then the timer was already at 1 minute and ten seconds. He wasn’t gonna beat his time.

“Dammit!” he cursed again.

As he stopped at his oil stain starting point, he slapped his wheel in frustration. He stepped out of his car to try and get some air and after a few breaths he was a little bit calmer but not by much. However he was calm enough to finally notice he wasn’t alone. Standing a short distance away from him were Max and Mrs. Cooper and behind them were their respective cars. Boomer was, again, not pleased.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“Well I am supposed to be the guy helping you get better at racing, aren’t I?” replied Max.

“I don’t need your help.”

“That’s not what we think,” said Mrs. Cooper holding up a stopwatch. “Not from where we’re standing.”

“You timed me?!”

“Well, just that last run. I mean we did just get here. By the way, that was 1 minute 17 seconds on my time.”

Boomer turned his head away and gave a curse under his breath. He was cursing a lot today, he thought.

“Was that better than your last run?” asked Mrs. Cooper.

Boomer didn’t answer.

Max sighed. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Max then walked towards Boomer’s Peugeot 206 and moved around to the passenger side and opened the door. Boomer raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Dude, what are you doing?” asked Boomer.

“You’re going for another run and I’ll be there the whole way. I wanna see how you handle this ride. Then after that maybe we can help you out a bit with your driving.”

“I said I don’t need your--”

“Prove it, then. You keep telling me that but you never show an ounce of progress. Show me right here and now that you really don’t need my help or is all that just hot air?”

With that Max climbed into the passenger seat and closed his door. Boomer stood a little dumbfounded for a moment before frustratingly climbing into the driver seat. Inside, they both buckled up and Boomer restarted the engine.

Max took this time to explore the interior of the Peugeot 206. Aside from the two bucket seats, sports steering wheel and sports gauges bolted to the centre of the dashboard, the interior pretty much looked stock.

“You should think about removing that back seat,” said Max.

“Huh? Why?” asked Boomer.

“The advantages of a hatchback are its low profile, compact size, and light weight. What hatchbacks lack in power they make up for in manoeuvrability. That back seat is costing you about 45 pounds of weight handicap. Something you can do without.”

“I put enough mods under the hood to compensate for that.”

“Okay, now it’s things like that that make me think you’re not a real racer yet.”

Boomer sharply turned his head. “What?!”

“If you want to reach for the top you have to be willing to make all the compromises necessary. You have to go all the way otherwise there will always be a limit to how fast you can go. And the only one setting that limit is you yourself.”

There was a moment of silent as Max let Boomer digest those words. Boomer thought about it deeply. Max eventually took the stopwatch that was hanging off the rear-view mirror and reset it. “Okay, now show me what you’ve got,” said Max.

Boomer gave Max one last look before turning his eyes dead ahead. He revved his engine once, twice, then with practiced speed, kicked the clutch, shifted to first gear and shot off. Max started the time at the exact moment the Peugeot 206 started moving.

With Max in the passenger seat, Boomer seemed be motivated a bit more than his previous runs His turns were a little faster, a little more aggressive. His shifting became quicker and there was already an obvious improvement over his previous three runs. Max watched closely as Boomer drove with all he had. Max noted the kid’s body language, the way he shifted gears, the way he looked at the road ahead, and the way his moves were linked. And that’s when he clearly saw the kid’s weakness.

Max had seen this type of thing before. This was common among rookie racers, professional or otherwise and it is often overlooked. Max himself went through a similar period in his younger days but unlike Boomer he knew enough to spend enough time ironing out the little bad habits of his before attempting to race with anyone. But al least now, he knew what to deal with in Boomer’s case.

By time the stopwatch reached the one minute mark, Boomer was already in the last two turns. When he reached the designated starting point and Max stopped the stopwatch, the time read 1:10:58. Considering his past times this was a considerable improvement.

Both Boomer and Max stepped out of the car. Boomer was visibly pleased as he could tell that his run was better than all the previous ones. Max kept a straight face not indicating whether he was impressed or disappointed though the latter case is unlikely. Mrs. Cooper walked up to them.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Perfect!” said Boomer then he turned to Max. “So what you gotta say now, dude?”

Max looked up with a slightly humoured smirk. “Perfect? Please. If you knew what you were doing this time would be way less than this. Well at least I figured out what your problem is.”

Boomer lost his pleased look. “Problem? What problem, man?”

“You think too much.”

There was another short silence. Boomer looked at Max like he was looking a mental patient. Mrs. Cooper herself looked a bit confused.

“And you’re never happy, mister I’m-so-great-and-know-everything.” Boomer snapped testily.

“You want me to explain?” asked Max.

“Yes,” said both Boomer and Mrs. Cooper at the same time.

“When you see a corner what do you do? You step on the brake, you kick the clutch, shift down a gear or two, turn the wheel, apply a little power at the apex, straighten out the wheel, counter-steer if you have to, and power over as you go out, and shift back up a gear.”

“Are you telling me all that’s not supposed to happen?

“No, that’s supposed to happen alright. But you’re not supposed to be thinking about them as you make the turn. When you see a corner, you turn around that corner. Period.”

“You’re not making sense, dude.”

“No, Boomer, he is,” said Mrs. Cooper, grabbing their attention. “I think I know what Max is getting at.”

“What is it then?”

“Forgive me this is gonna sound a little feng shui-ish but the thing is Boomer you’re not…one with your car.”

“…Huh?”

“You know that saying,” continued Max, “it takes 43 muscles to frown but only 17 to smile? But when you smile or frown do you actually think about moving every single one of those muscles, Boomer? No. They just happen. When you want to smile or frown you just do it. The same thing should applied to your car. In a race, the driver and the car are one entity, each one useless without the other. The car acts as an extension of the driver and the driver makes the car a whole. That means when you make a turn, it just happens. All that braking, shifting, turning of the wheel, all of that just happens when the driver and the car turn. You don’t have to think about it.”

“And when that happens, Boomer,” said Mrs. Cooper, “you’ll be much faster than you are now.”

Boomer didn’t reply immediately. He contemplated what he was told and Max let him. This is something he definitely needed to learn.

“How am I gonna fix that?” Boomer finally asked.

“Usually, it’s just through strict training. You have to get used to the way you drive and the way your car runs.”

“Wait. Get used to the way I drive?”

“Every driver has their own unique way of driving. Some like to punch the gas a lot. Some like smooth turning instead of those crazy powerslides. It’s like the way you walk. No two people are ever completely alike. Same with your car. You tuned it so you know her capabilities. You need to adapt your ride to your technique so that you can be in perfect harmony. That’s the essence of a real race car driver.”

“How long is that gonna take.”

“Most professionals go through months, even a year or so, of training before they ever see a professional race. We don’t really have that much time but with you it might not be that big a problem. You’re already pretty proficient in the fundamentals and as I’ve said before you really have a knack for this.”

“I see…” Boomer grumbled glaring at mister know-it-all.

Max smirked a bit. “Relax, dude. We’ll make a real racer out of you soon enough.”

* * *

Jae’s garage.

Various mechanics were working on various cars for various reasons. Some were there for the simple regular check-ups and tune-ups while some were being modified. Jae was among the many mechanics who were working on stuff. He was busy tuning-up one of his own trucks by changing the oil.

Jae has always been the mechanic at heart. He tried racing but that didn’t go so well and he simply retired to doing the backstage work. His smarts and management skills make him the perfect organizer for any event and that is what truly made him the man to know in Moscow. But when he wasn’t at an event he was there in the shop, going back to his roots.

At some point during his work he heard the noises of familiar engines. Regular customers of his whom he identified the moment he saw their cars. That bright tan Toyota Maserati that belonged to Ilya and that bright red SAAB which belonged to Vasili Scolkov or Vasili for short. Both cars rolled in though the big front entrance which was left wide open. Both cars found some ample parking space on the middle of the floor. Jae stopped working and moved over to meet his friends as they got out of their cars.

As usual Ilya had his girlfriend with him. Even from a distance, Jae could easily tell that Ilya was irked by something.

“Yo, Ilya, Vasili. What’s up?” greeted Jae.

“Not my bank account, that’s for damn sure!” replied Ilya, before slamming his door shut in frustration. His girlfriend was nice enough to move over to him and provide some comfort.

“What’s your deal, man?”

Vasili walked up to them. “Don’t worry about him suka. He’s just upset some byk broke his recent winning streak. And he broke it in a bad way.”

“Really?”

“Some fool in a mustang pulled a fast one on my ass,” said Ilya.

“Mustang?”

“We think it’s someone you know, so we wanna ask you about him.”

“Actually, more like it someone who is known by someone you know,” added Vasili. “It’s that byk in the red Maserati that beat your boy, Boomer, some time ago.”

Jae didn’t need anymore description other than that. He knew who they were talking about. “Wait a minute. “Bull? He’s back?”

“And he’s been taking out any fool who’s challenged him.”

“I thought he quit after what Max did to him.”

“Quit? No way. More like he’s looking for payback and his crown back. He’s been hunting down that boy all this time now tellin’ everybody that he’ll leave him in the dust the next time he races.”

“In that crappy-ass Maserati of his?”

“No. Like we said, man, he’s wheelin’ a mustang now.”

“And that car means business, man,” said Ilya. “I mean when he and I went against each other, I thought it was gonna be crappy too. Just another muscle car. But, man, he’s got serious power under that hood. He must’ve done a quarter mile in like nine, maybe eight seconds, man.”

“That thing can handle too,” said Vasili. “Just last night he beat Sean Chen on a lot somewhere.”

“He beat Sean Chen?” asked Jae, clearly disbelieving what he was hearing.

“Yeah. Looks like that graveyard shift fell on the wrong day of the week.”

“And now he’s gunning for Max?” Jae set his tools down, rubbing the back of his hand thoughtfully across his cheek.

“That’s what we wanted to talk about. Where is he anyway? He’s usually here, ain’t he?”

“He’s out with Boomer and Mrs. Cooper right now. I asked him to teach Boomer some skills in racing. I got worried for the boy.”

“Hmph, thought so. Yeah, that boy does need improvement.”

“So, whatcha gonna do about this, brah?” asked Ilya.

Jae didn’t answer immediately. He thought about it for a moment. Bull was back and he was going for a major comeback. If these two were telling the truth then Bull could shape up to be a real threat. He’d acquired a new car as well and Jae can only assume that after the debacle at the docks he would put some serious time into a ride which he knows he can invest in. And it sounded like he’d done just that.

He’ll be most likely gunning for Max, the person who soiled him and left him humiliated. While Max’s skill was not in question, Jae was worried about Bull. He had shown some skill back then and it was only his temper and nerves that got the better of him during their last encounter. What now? Nobody walked away from an ordeal like that without getting a little smarter. He won’t be caught with his pants down again that’s for sure.

“I’ll have to talk to Max about this,” said Jae.

Jae fished a cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Max’s number. His personal number not the Pizza place’s. Max answered after a few rings.

“Hey, man,” greeted Jae. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

* * *

Kuzminky.

In a long and nearly abandoned stretch of road called Kuzminky Prospekt, there were a few passers-by on the sidewalk enjoying the afternoon breeze. For the moment the lone car on the road was very indiscreet dark blue Ferrari F355 F1 Spyder. It had the top down and inside was a cocky looking rich boy and his prissy girlfriend in designer clothing. Hip-hop music was blaring from the inside.

As the F355 stopped at a stop light that just switched to red, an older pedestrian, looked towards the car and showed disapproval at the loud music that was obviously ruining his day. However that F355 would soon be beat.

A few seconds later, another car appeared from out of nowhere and the only indication that it was coming was a loud engine tone and even louder heavy metal music that was coming from its open windows. The F355 driver and his girlfriend turned to see the car as it pulled up alongside them at the stop light.

Alongside the Ferrari pulled up a dark, gun metal grey, ’06 Ford Mustang GT sporting a ROUSH body kit complete with a front bumper, rear bumper, side skirt, rear wing and a hood scoop feeding air into a highly tuned ROUSH 511SRFE engine.

The engine was a heavily tuned Shelby aluminium block that received the full treatment in performance enhancements and parts that turned into a 600 hp monster of an engine. The wheels were 18” chromed out GT4 wheels covered in performance Falken tires. The car had high-performance dampers, springs, struts, and sway bars courtesy of Ford Racing and the high-performance brakes were from Brembo.

The gun metal grey paint was accented by matte black graphics which were further accented with bright red pinstripes outlining the graphics. Long racing strips that ran down the front bumper, the hood, the roof, the trunk and the rear bumper. On the side looked like traditional racing stripes but were broken in the middle where the doors were by a large silhouette of a flaming skull was drawn.

Inside, sitting in a Recaro racing seat was Bull who was bobbing his head to his music. He looked mildly annoyed when the Ferrari revved its engines and disturbed his rhythm. He looked to the side and saw the rich boy driver grinning at him. His girlfriend didn’t look too pleased however.

“Hey buddy,” said the Ferrari guy. “What’s the retail on one of those?”

Bull remained silent. The Ferrari guy continued to simply rev his engine even more. When the light turned green the Ferrari took off at full speed leaving the Mustang behind at the stop light. The Ferrari guy watched as the Mustang got smaller and smaller on his rear-view mirror and felt proud about himself.

He looked towards his girlfriend which didn’t seem as thrilled. He then looked back at the mirror and was caught off-guard when the Mustang was suddenly on top of him, its engine roaring like a wild beast. He was similarly caught off-guard when the Mustang quickly switched lanes and passed his Ferrari. When the Mustang swerved back to the same lane, the Ferrari guy had to slam on the brakes.

The Ferrari’s tires smoked and the whole car spun out. The Mustang continued on and disappeared in the road ahead leaving the spun out F355 with its passengers breathing heavily.

“Okay, first it was those two guys in those Evos,” said the girlfriend, “then there was that kid in a hatch just over a month ago and now this. Are we gonna do this every time you meet one of those tuner folks?!”

Meanwhile, cruising at over 140 miles per hour, Bull was grinning in his seat.

“Yeah, you see that? He said to himself. “That’s what you gonna get for messing with me, pizza boy. Just you wait.”

Hello, if you are enjoying the story, please review to let me know.

http://gofundme.com/bm8zq68c
Copyright © 2016 Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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