i wrote this story in may of 2006 when i was in grade 11. It was an english assignment we were given and had to use a few sentences given to us so a few of them sound stupid.  I chose to write a story about a street racer, I in no way promote or condon street racing but it was topic i was familiar with.  It may not be very realistic, it may even sound a little too fast and furious at times but i wrote it in a matter of 4 hours the night before it was due.

so take 15 minutes and read it. if u like it reply, if u dont and think it sounds fast and furious(i do a little bit by the way) and have nothing good to say then keep ur keyboards silent, and car craft if you r looking for a new staff member in a year or two leave a post, i think you will find the grammar excellent haha.

enjoy!

Flyin5.0 (formerly Stangbanger)

"Hey Keegan you dragin’ tonight?"

"Ya, but I’m not racing you," I replied.

"Why not," Trevor said with a sneering grin on his face, "you scared?"

I hate it when I let him rattle me. That’s not the only thing I hate about Trevor Avery; after all he has been my worst enemy since highschool. For some reason, only God knows why, we never learned to get along. We competed over everything, cars, girls, races, dirtbikes; it didn’t matter what the subject was, we had to out do each other. Throughout our years of competition not one punch has ever been thrown, but right now I felt like giving him a hard right hook in the teeth to shut him up. He’s been getting to me lately. He knows that his car is faster than mine and my best friend Cory Chambers and I have been trying to get my car up to par with his. Since my car is already faster than Cory’s Camaro, and he out ran a police cruiser last week, he wants to lay low for awhile. All attention has been focused on my Mustang.

It’s no ordinary "girly" Mustang with a V-6 and a CD player either, nope shes a work of art and true craftsmanship and a hand full to say the least. It’s a purple ’95 GT, code named "Grape Juice," sporting a supercharged 4.6L four cam "mod" motor yanked from a totaled ’03 Cobra backed by a T-56 6- speed gearbox and a 4.56 geared 8.8 rearend. The motor is far from stock, having been modified to the max by Cory and myself in my garage. It puts down over 750 hp at the rear wheels and is able to spin to the 7800 rpm redline without trouble. It runs mid 9.70’s at 140 mph at the dragstrip and hopefully the same on the street when I try to take Trevor down.

"You wish I was scared," I said to him even though I was lying. "Maybe if I had a rich daddy who owned a speed shop I’d have a fast car too. I get my parts from the wreckers, you order yours from the big names."

"Ya well it was worth every penny, I haven’t lost a race in three months," he said trying to redeem himself.

Out of nowhere Cory chimes in, "for the amount of money you put into that TA we could have built two Mustangs like Keegan’s and two Camaros like mine and still had money left over."

All the bickering with Trevor made me forget that my girlfriend Madison was standing right beside me watching me get madder and madder and I don’t like being angry around her, it makes her feel uncomfortable.

"Can you just race him and get it over with baby?" she pleaded.

"Ya man kick his ass so we can collect our green and get outta here," added Cory.

"Alright then lets get this done, 10 large low enough for you Keegan?" said Trevor mockingly.

"Ya I suppose that’ll do," I said as I took a wad of bills from Madison.

"Alright then line ‘em up!" yelled Cory so the crowd could hear him, "lets race!"

I walked towards my car with Cory and Madison, "balls out," I said half questioning, half stating.

"Good luck baby," Madison said as I got in the Mustang, "be careful."

"Smoke ‘em," encouraged Cory, as he slapped the roof of the car and walked away.

I flipped the ignition switch then pressed the starter button and the cammer roared to life and sent a chill down my spine, "never fails," I thought to myself. I rolled up to the spray painted starting line beside Trevor’s black ’02 WS6 Trans Am. We exchanged glances and revved our engines a bit. I put the transmission in second and did a long burnout across the starting line to try and get some heat into the cold pavement. I backed up to the starting line and waited for the starter to give us a signal. He looked at both of us until we signaled we were ready, he raised his arms above his head, I revved the 4.6 up to 6000 and side stepped the clutch just as his hands started to move. I felt the front end of the car lift and I shifted to second when I saw the shift light come on at 7800 rpm. I power shifted up to third and glanced to my left surprised to see the front bumper of Trevor’s car beside me. At this point it was all up to the little 4.6 screaming under the hood to keep Trevor where he was. As I shifted to fourth Trevor started to pull away. My heart sank and I felt the color drain from my face as we crossed the finish line, my front bumper just behind his front wheel.

"Nice try man," Cory said sympathetically, "that’s one nasty car."

"Its OK Keegan we’ll get him next time," said Madison.

"Well now that was honestly a good race, my closest one in months," said Trevor as he strolled up to collect his winnings. I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or mocking me again.

"Here, take your money, we’re outta here," I said and turned to walk away.

"Leaving so soon Keegan?" asked Trevor, "the night is young."

"Ya but that traffic has been backed up 20 minutes now and…"

"Cops!" yelled a spectator.

"Madison you come with me, Cory you get your Camaro back to the garage, we’ll meet up later," I ordered.

The street was like a war zone now. Cop cars coming out of nowhere, racers trying to escape, and people running down the street in all directions. I took a back alley to try and lose the three cruisers that were on me. I needed to get to the smaller urban streets if I was going to shake this heat, only problem with that would be running flat out on the highway trying to get there. The Mustang roared up the exit ramp onto the highway, only two cruisers in chase now. With the 4.6 screaming in protest I put the trans in fifth and held the gas on the floor.

As the speedometer started to find its way to 5 O’ clock, Madison screamed, "Stop Keegan before you kill us both!"

Too late to stop now. I slammed the shifter into sixth. The lines on the highway became a blur as we flew down the tarmac at break neck speed. I glanced over at Madison only to see her white as a ghost, holding on for dear life, praying to herself for this nightmare to end. When I saw her in the seat beside me; I knew what kind of woman she was. She didn’t like it when I street raced. It was my fault she’s in this situation; I dragged her into this.

A shot rang out. Immediately I knew it was no gunshot. It was a connecting rod flying through the side of the engine block and hitting the inner fender. The engine puked oil all over the highway and the rear tires. I felt the rear end starting to slide at over 120 mph now. I lost control of the car; it crashed through the guardrail. Suddenly, everything went black.

When I opened my eyes I was relieved that the car didn’t roll. Madison was furiously trying to get her seatbelt undone. When she did, she climbed out of the passenger window and ran towards a stopped police car. I got out of my car slowly because of a sharp pain in my leg, momentarily forgetting that I was just in a high-speed pursuit and will surely go to jail.

"Stop right there! Put your hands where I can see them," I heard a policeman yell.

They were going to shoot at me. I did as they said. As I was being escorted to the police car I saw Madison talking to an officer.

I yelled, "I’m sorry Madison, I never wanted to hurt you!"

She turned and walked away.

SOunds like last night!! JK good story man.