racing along walls

"Hey Joe, hand me the 3/16" socket," I mumbled into the underside of
my car. I felt a nudge in my ribs as my friend, Joe, handed me the socket
I asked for. Matching the ends of the hexagonal shaped socket with the
stub on my wrench, I pushed the two together. A loud click signaled the
two ends of the socket and wrench fit perfectly. Reluctantly, I went to
work tightening the chassis of my car. I felt overwhelmed by the number
of lugs I would have to check and tighten. It took me almost a half an
hour to completely tighten each bolt and there were still eight more to go.
To add to my frustration, the sun was starting to set which forced me to
use an inadequate electrical lamp to illuminate my garage at home.
Joe, was working on his own car in the garage space next to mine.
He was inspecting and cleaning the outside of his white 1993 Honda Civic
SI. He had a soft cloth in one hand and a spray bottle of wax in the other.
The hand with the soft cloth would wipe for ten seconds followed by the
"sqshhh sqshhh" of the spray bottle. Always being the meticulous one, he
continued his wipe and spray cycle for many hours to make sure his car
was immaculate. As I turned one of the bolts clockwise to tighten it, I
felt a sharp, searing pain on the upper portion of my hand. Instinctively, I
swore, forgetting all the lessons on good manners my parents had taught
me. I brought my hand up to inspect the wound but the darkness of the
garage, the setting sun, and the little remaining light my car blocked
made it so I couldn't see my hand at all. As I climbed out from underneath
the car, I noticed that I was leaving a trail of thick, dark, drops with my
movements. I carelessly wiped off the dripping blood on my shirt and
looked at the length and depth of the cut in my hand. "Oh man! Joe check
out this cut. I'm going to love this scar! It will make my hand look more
manly. Oh yeah! But my hand hurts really bad." I happily exclaimed. The
cut ran the whole length of my hand. Luckily, it was the top of my hand
that was cut and not the palm side of it, so I knew I didn't get any
important veins that would make me bleed to death. It was another scar I
could add to my body giving me more of a masculine look which was

always a plus with the ladies. Grabbing the towel I had used earlier to
wipe off my sweat, I wrapped my hand to stop the bleeding and continued
on my work not knowing that this first injury would foreshadow future
events. "Hey, I just checked your roll cage, and it's a lot more solid
than mine. Is the roll cage on my car tight enough or do we have to take it
to a welding shop before they close?" asked Joe. "It'll be fine. Plus I
seriously doubt you'll need it. If you're really worried about it, I think the
roll cage bolts use a 22 mm. socket so go tighten it." I replied in the
middle of tightening another chassis bolt. It was July and we were
preparing our cars for the Battle of the Imports the next day. "Battle", as
most people that attended the event preferred to call it, was the largest
import drag racing event in the country. The event was scheduled four
times every year at the Los Angeles Raceway. Although the event was
meant for all import cars, Japanese cars dominated the race. My car, a
black 1994 Acura Integra GSR was a common site there along with some
other Japanese sport compacts, such as Joe's Honda Civic. Many people
have the impression that a racing event full of small engine, Japanese,
compacts would be a race full of slow cars, that is not the case. Most cars
at Battle, including mine, have modifications that make them extremely
quick cars putting the large displacement American cars to shame. Take,
for example, my modified Acura Integra GSR with Turbo VTEC makes
around 325 horsepower with a small 1.8 liter engine while a modified Ford
Mustang makes 400 horsepower with a large 5.0 liter engine. Even
though the Ford Mustang makes more horsepower, it is also much
heavier because of its thicker steel and larger engine, so in a race, my
car would win by quite a distance. My car and most Japanese imports
weigh less because they have smaller engines and thinner metal. In
some areas, the metal is so thin that what should be small accidents
often end up more severe. It was not to my knowledge that the thin metal
that Honda, Acura, Nissan, and Toyota use in their cars would affect Joe

and I the next day. I finished tightening the last of the chassis bolts and
started checking the exhaust hookups while I was still underneath the car.
The bolt connection from the exhaust pipe to the muffler was a bit loose,
but a quick flick of the wrist with my wrench fixed the problem. I
climbed out from underneath the car and got into the passenger seat to
check the roll cage. The roll cage is a series of light, durable, metal bars
that bolted on to the chassis of the car. If my car flipped or if I hit a wall
while racing, I would be able to walk away from the wreck unscathed
because of the bars strengthening the body of the car. However, the
chances of such a catastrophe were small and I was very confident and
at times arrogant about my excellent driving skills. Joe was even more
arrogant and confident than I was at his driving skills, and it was true that
Joe was probably a better driver than I was. We both reluctantly installed
roll cages because of regulations set by the race directors for all cars that
could run a quarter mile in 11.99 seconds or less which was the category
our cars would be in. After checking the connections of the roll cage
bars, I did a final inspection of the car to make sure I did not forget
anything. My friend had also just finished taking care of his car so we
decided to take our cars out for some practice on gear shifting and
clutching. We took our cars to a large deserted parking lot we always
went to to practice and did a couple runs against each other to make sure
both cars were running in top condition. We then returned to my house to
finish preparing for the race. I took my plastic racing helmet adorned with
many racing stickers and emblems and placed it in my trunk. I fished out
my torque wrench and hydraulic lift from the spider webbed corner of the
garage. The lift and wrench would be needed later to change the tires
there. Two sets of drag slicks went into my trunk. We would mount the
slicks at the track replacing the two front tires. They offered much better
grip than normal street tires on a dry track and would improve our racing
times and speed significantly. We brought along a pair of fire suits

because of their flame retarding capabilities. They would make up our
"race suits." The directors of the race required a fire suit for quick cars in
case they catch fire so that injuries from fires would not cause any
fatalities. "Dude, I'm hecka nervous," Joe complained. "What if I
break my axle tomorrow? What if my car catches fire? What if I screw up
my starts in front of 16,000 people? And of those 16,000 I know there's a
pretty girl in the stands for me. How can I be a studly pimp when I make a
total fool of myself? Just think, pretty girls all coming in groups to watch
guys race. I mean I'm nervous enough with the 16,000 people watching
me make a complete fool of myself but all those chicks too! And to add to
it, those aren't any plain old fine chicks, they're Irvine girls! Did you hear
me? They are Irvine " "Look shut up!" I replied in frustration at my
friends sudden outburst of hormones as if the Hoover Dam that blocked
his testosterone broke. "You're not going to screw up badly if you screw
up at all. Who cares about the girls up there. Save them for later. When
you're done racing than you go up into the stands and get your groove
on. When you're on the track only five things exist: you, the track, the
starting lights, the finish line, and you're opponent. The 16,000 people in
the stands don't exist. There are no fine Irvine girls waiting to meet a cute
guy. If you just chill I'm sure you'll do fine. If you get distracted and don't
pay attention than you're screwed. Got it?" "Yeah you're right," Joe
replied reluctantly. Although he had stated his acquiescence with what I
had said, his voice did not resemble the voice of someone in agreement.
It sounded more like Joe was still thinking with his hormones and not his
brain. His mind was still replaying scenes with girls scantily clad in tight
summer clothing four sizes too small to reveal their feminine shapes. He
only agreed with me to humor my impatience. "It's eight o'clock. Let's go
upstairs and get some sleep." I said. "I can't sleep now. It's too early
and I'm still nervous. I can't sleep when I'm nervous." "Well just lay down
and eventually you'll fall asleep. Remember, we need to get up at 3 A.M.

tomorrow morning so we can make it to LA on time." We went up to my
room that was reminiscent of a junkyard with garbage, dirty and clean
clothing, underwear, car magazines, and CD's strewn across what was
once a nice, plush, tan colored carpet. It's amazing how worn out carpet
could get in my room after only two years. All the other rooms still had the
fresh-out-of-the-factory smell that we incorporate with new carpet. The
walls were a barren desert of off-white. I never really believed in hanging
up posters; or to put it frankly I was always too lazy to hang any posters
up. Besides the mess on the floor, there were only five things in my room:
my stereo, computer, bed, desk, and closet. Of course my closet
remained empty because the ground had taken over its job making it hard
for me to find a nice clear place where Joe could sleep. I cleared a small
area of my floor to accommodate my friend. I felt lucky that I could sleep
on my bed because the insects had found the "jungle" on my ground to
be a favorable environment to their survival. Joe would be their full course
meal for the night. It surprised me that I was able to fall asleep so easily.
My friend on the other hand, claimed that he fell asleep at twelve o'clock
in the morning. Unfortunately, we were taking two cars and not one so he
could not have taken a nap while I drove. I had a feeling that morning that
Joe would be too exhausted to race and make good decisions but
dismissed them as just my wild imagination. We had two choices of
routes to take to LA We could either take 101 South the whole way or
take Highway Five. Highway Five was an unanimous decision because of
its four lanes and long, straight, stretches to accelerate on. Being that we
were practically the only ones on the freeway, both of us took our cars up
to 160 miles per hour without the fear of running into other traffic. The trip
to the Los Angeles Raceway was pretty uneventful. We arrived early so
my friend proposed that we wait in the parking lot so he could take a nap.
The doors to the track opened at nine. The track was setup in an arena
like fashion with the seats surrounding the oval shaped track. Whenever

there was a straight stretch of at least a half mile, there would be lights
setup at the beginning of the stretch and large, scoreboard-like, towers
with digital numbers at the end of the stretch. These two landmarks
indicated where the quarter mile drags would be. In all, there were five
areas of the track set up for the event. Since the track was still virtually
empty at nine thirty, I took advantage of my time by stripping out my rear
seat and passenger seat to save weight. The hood, trunk, and rear
bumper came off next. Every pound made a difference so every racer
attempted to lighten their cars as much as possible. Some go so far that
they replace the windshield and windows with lighter plexiglass. I raised
up the car with the hydraulic lifts I brought and swapped out the rims I
had on my car with the racing slicks I had brought. With the car still
raised, I went underneath the car and disconnected my exhaust pipes
after the downpipe from the motor. This would allow a better flowing
exhaust with less restriction, a must for turbo cars and good for another
20 extra horsepower. I also decided to take a little risk by raising the
compression of the turbo from 1 bar to 1.5 bar which would give me an
additional 90 horses. I crossed my fingers and prayed that my car would
be able to handle the extra boost. When a car is boosted beyond its limit,
the engine usually detonates leaving it unusable. By this time, Joe had
also started preparing his car in much the same fashion that I had done. I
decided to wait for him to finish so we could go check in. By ten, both
of us started racing on the track. My first run was against Joe since both
of us signed up together at the same time. We lined up at the starting
lights and staged our cars flush with each other. The starting lights went
yellow, yellow, yellow, green with a 0.500 second interval between each
light. By the third yellow, the squeal of our slicks filled the air as both of us
revved our engines and side stepped the clutch. By the time the green
light lighted, we were both off in a streak of a black blur next to a white
blur. My left hand fought the steering wheel, my right hand went through

the gears, my right foot was standing on the gas pedal, and my left foot
was modulating the clutch between a gear shift. Racing required the
whole body to coordinate with each other. The coordination and the
intense slam-you-back-into-your-seat pull of the turbos are probably the
factors that give racing its appeal. I lost the race by three hundredths of a
second. The time it took him to speed down the quarter mile was 11.64
seconds at 123 miles per hour, while my time was 11.67 seconds at 129
miles per hour. I should have had a much faster time because my speed
was higher than his, but he probably shifted gears better than I did. By
10:30 the stands were nearly filled. It looked like there were more than
the projected 16,000 people attending. Most of the people there were
young like ourselves and enthusiastic about cars. The first run was
the only time we would race against each other that day. We each had
different schedules of people we would race against. After my fourth run, I
decided to take a break, mainly to eat, but also to meet new people. I
bought a hamburger and drink to satiate my developing hunger. There
was a girl that caught my eye. Her dark, tan, skin and wide, puppy dog
like, eyes gave her the Filipino look. Unlike the other women that looked
trashy, her clothing was modest and in good taste. I was thinking of ways
to approach her and what to say without sounding stupid when I heard a
loud crunch of metal hitting concrete that caught my attention. I looked
down at the race tracks and saw a white Civic crushed against the wall.
Crowds of people had started gathering around the car as if a car crash
was good entertainment to them. In fact, the crowd was so thick that I
could not get to my friend and pull him out of the wreck. Luckily, Joe
crawled out of his car unassisted and the medics were able to force their
way through. They lightly rolled him onto a stretcher, taking special care
to keep his back unmoved. An ambulance arrived and took Joe to the
hospital. Joe broke his right clavicle, right knee, and right elbow. He also
broke the tendon in his right ankle. As for his car, he no longer has that

one. Insurance declared it a complete wreck and bought him another
Civic. The whole right side of his wrecked car was gone. Joe and I
frequently discuss the events that led up to his accident now that he has
fully recovered. I told Joe that I thought he was not paying attention when
he was racing and probably checking out some girl in the stands. Joe
disagrees and says his tires overspun and his hand slipped on the
steering wheel. However, we both agree that the roll cage fell apart
because of his loose bolts and that if the roll cage had been tightened,
Joe probably could have walked away from the accident. We both agree
that the weak body of Japanese cars also had some play in his injuries. I
believe his helmet saved his life because his head had hit the windshield
and caused it to shatter. His high level of testosterone and ego makes
him think that his head was hard enough that he did not need the helmet.
Despite the accident, we both still yearn to return to the track.
There is no point in dwelling in fear and stop doing what we both found to
be the most enjoyable activity in our lives. Next time, we will be more
careful and hopefully we will also pay better attention when racing.