Drift (Drift Series)

by Dean, Michael

  Everyone was out of their cars and gathered in a circle behind us trying to get a view of the quarter toss. There was some murmuring going on in anticipation of the results. Darryl and I locked eyes as if we were the only two there.

  The quarter chimed off the bearer’s thumb as it spun end over end into the air directly between us. Neither of us removed our glare off the other as the coin cut through the dense night fog that surrounded us like a misty blanket. It felt as if the money hung in limbo, like time had slowed the moment it reached its highest point in its rotation before coming back down. Darryl and I never strayed from our determined stare, even when the flipping object passed through our field of vision.

  We heard a flop, followed by a smack. Darryl and I looked down to view the results of the toss.

  “It’s tails!” he announced.

  Darryl never changed his stern expression, not even to gloat at his winning the toss, something he did every chance he got.

  The crowd ran back to their vehicles to leave for the end point of the race, hooting and yelling every step of the way. Scruffy grabbed my shoulders to let me know he was catching a ride down the hill with someone else.

  “Be safe, homeboy. I’ll see you at the bottom. Kick his butt hard for me, Leo.” He whispered the message in my ear so Darryl wouldn’t hear.

  “I told you, Scruff, I got this. I’ll pick you up at the bottom.”

  Scruffy looked at me as if it was going to be the last time he saw me, so I gave him a thumbs up to help keep him positive. Everyone zoomed by us in their efforts to get the best available viewing spot left at the bottom. Only myself, Darryl, his coin-tossing buddy, and our three vehicles, remained in the cloud of dust left behind from the fleeing cars, adding more denseness to the gathering fog.

  Everything grew deathly quiet as the sounds of the departing engines hummed to silence into the night. Only the sound of gravel crunching under Darryl’s friend’s feet echoed around the hilltop. He was taking off his shirt so he could wave it like a flag, the signal for us to start racing. The time had come to man up.

  “Maybe…I’ll see you at the bottom, hero,” Darryl said.

  “Yeah, I’ll be waiting for your arrival.”

  “To your cars, boys!” called our shirtless referee.

  We unlocked our glares and entered our cars. The roars of our engines blew up the dark in an earth-shaking rumble. We revved them a few intimidating times before resting them at idle.

  Darryl felt the need to get in the last word before we began, not unusual for him. I guess he thought he was going to get some psychological edge. He shouted a final message through our open windows.

  “Hey, hero, I’ am in this to win this. If you accidentally fall off the hill, I’m not stopping for ya. You’re on your own. Good luck, boy.” He smirked as he raised one eyebrow, suggesting that I could look on his words as prophecy.

  I nodded in acknowledgement and didn’t say a word. Without changing my look of determination, I pointed one finger forward while still gripping the top of my steering wheel, telling him non-verbally to shut up and get ready. He faced forward with the mischievous grin still on his face and revved his engine another couple of times.

  Then, the slow strut of Darryl’s friend stepped between our vibrating cars. He stood with his legs spread facing us, his left hand was straight in the air, gripping his T-shirt. “When I wave this shirt towards the ground—take off!”

  He glanced at both of us and we nodded that we were ready to go. I took one last look at Darryl. Both his hands gripped his steering wheel, white knuckle tight, as he exhaled and gritted his teeth. I’m sure the nerves rolling around in his stomach had reached his rapidly beating heart. It was almost as if he was gassing up his engine to the rhythm of each heartbeat that thundered throughout his soul. He was scared. I could smell his fear. On the other hand, I was steady and ready.

  “GO!” His friend waved the shirt towards the ground. The race was underway.

  Both cars’ tires squealed in sweet release as we twisted by the shirtless dude. We kicked up a solid fin of gravel as our tires screeched to grab hard pavement. I was certain that a few rocks had to have hit our shirtless flag bearer when we took off, but I couldn’t care less about that now. Darryl was on the inside and pulling away pretty fast. I moved behind him in an effort to stay on his bumper. It was safer being behind him for now.

  I was riding so close to his bumper that his taillights seemed to be resting on the hood of my Mustang. For now my strategy was to stay behind him, keeping my foggy headlights blinding him in his rear view mirror as we headed into the first sharp curve.

  His red brake lights lit up and his engine shifted down as he slowed into the first curve. I swayed from side to side to let him know I was looming ever present in his rear. I was confident that my intimidation tactics were working. No matter how much he tried, no matter what tactics he used to get away, I wanted him to know he couldn’t escape. When it was time to make my move, I would, no matter what he did to try and stop me. I bumped him from behind to intimidate him further. I had no regard for any car damage. For me, it was all about bullying the bully.

  His Camaro wiggled back and forth, the result of my love-tap. I looked up to see him flip me off between his two front seats. I guess he was a little angry that I might be scuffing up his little baby. It didn’t matter; his mommy and daddy would get it fixed for him.

  We came out of the first sharp turn. Our engines roared as we increased speed. Before we could properly prepare for the next turn, the first of the couple dips in the road made their presence known.

  First Darryl dropped with a spark-filled bang and then quickly jumped into the air and floated a few feet. The tires braced the impact of his landing, his head bobbled around in the car. More sparks flew as a result of the impact on asphalt. He squiggled around, struggling to maintain control.

  It was my turn now. I felt the rapid drop, my stomach felt as if it had hit the floorboard. Then I felt a large wham as my car hit the pavement right before I was airborne. The world stood still as I looked down at Darryl’s fleeing Camaro while I sat helpless in mid-air. Then, kaboom! My Mustang hit the road and fishtailed for a moment as the tires struggled to find traction.

  We had survived one of the dips in the road but had little time to recover as we rocketed towards the next sharpest point in the second turn.

  I love the feeling of a car drifting. It’s like a constant slide sideways around really tight corners. A driver must consistently keep turning into a slide in hope of maintaining an angle. In this case, a necessary move for me to avoid sliding off the cliff. Once the road straightens out a little, I needed to gently pull out of the skid and turn forward, which was easier said than done.

  We slid around the turn as the back ends of our cars tried to swing us both off the hill. Darryl drifted a little too wide, allowing me to almost take the inside lane, but just before I could make my move, the corner shortened and we straightened out. The driver’s side of his Camaro banged into the passenger side of my Stang. I jammed on the brakes and pulled back behind him. Again, I was staring into his brake lights as he regained control of his ride.

  We had a little drive time before the third and final turn on the hill, which was also the longest turn. I wanted to mess with him a bit, show him what I could really do. Like a slingshot, I flew around him, taking the inside position by force, but I wasn’t on the roadway. I was driving at an angle against the side of the hill to his inside, almost passing him. My passenger side window was almost at a ninety-degree angle next to his driver side window. I could pass him at any moment I chose to do so. I knew this maneuver would really get inside his head. I even looked at him to see if he was looking at my showing off. He was, his eyes darted from me to the road and back again, mystified at my bouncing car riding along the hill next to him.

  In another attempt to get under his skin, I took my hands off the wheel and held them up. It looked to me like I baffled him further when I saw the expres
sion on his face. He couldn’t believe the chances I was taking.

  In a final move, I hit the brakes and slithered behind him like a salamander, approaching him from the ever-so-dangerous outside lane. My driver’s window was now at his passenger side and he was paying way too much wide-eyed attention to me now, so much so that he didn’t notice the beginning of turn three had arrived.

  I pointed forward. He spun forward. His face contorted in fear as he realized he may have made a fatal mistake judging the timing of the final turn. He jerked the wheel in over correction, slamming into me. His car bounced off mine. This disastrous turn of events aimed his vehicle towards the oncoming edge of the hill like a missile.

  Even though we were at the third turn, a much lower position on Miller’s Hill, he was still in great danger of dropping a few stories. I needed to act fast to make sure nothing happened to him.

  The only thing I could do was reach out with one hand from my window and grab onto his car and try to pull him straight. A move that would seem silly and pointless for most, but it was just a reaction for me. The next thing I knew he straightened back out and started to regain control of his car. Whether my help had anything to do with it or not, I couldn’t be sure.

  Darryl regained his racing composure and was now fully under control again. He had re-taken the pole position. I slashed back behind him so I could get safely through the rest of the final turn.

  Our tires screamed through the last lengthy curve that finally gave way to a merciful straightaway. River Road had straightened for her last unforgiving mile.

  An abundance of car beams awaited us in the distance, marking the finish line. Darryl was still in the inside lane and slightly ahead. Being on the inside position was no longer the great advantage it was on the hill now that it was just a straight shot to the finish.

  I shot out from behind Darryl and pulled up beside him. We occasionally glanced at each other as we jockeyed for the lead. Then, with a sadistic smile, Darryl leaned forward. His engine bellowed like thunder and he blew past me like I was standing still. He waved as if saying, “See ya later.”

  I realized he had a nitrous oxide system in his car, also known as NOS. It gives out a blast of air combustion, giving a vehicle a sudden burst of high speed. All it takes is a push of a button to activate it. Nitrous is usually possessed by more qualified street racers than the two of us, but I had to admit, I was impressed; he actually had courage enough to use it. Under regular circumstances, he may have had me.

  The headlights at the finish that seemed so distant just moments before were almost upon us. Darryl would win if I didn’t do something fast. There was no way in hell I would give him any kind of bragging rights over me. I would never hear the end of it, nor would anyone else, for that matter.

  I reached over and placed my hand on the dashboard above the stereo. Just to clarify, I do not have a nitrous oxide system. Like I said, I had to do something.

  My mighty Mustang kicked it into a gear that didn’t exist in the physical world. It roared with fury, rapidly catching ground on Darryl. I found myself window to window with him for what would turn out to be the final time in this race. I politely, but arrogantly, flipped him the bird, returning the favor he graciously showed me just minutes before. His face stressed with discontent.

  Darryl’s headlights became visible in my rear view mirror as I blew by him. I prepared to take my metaphorical checkered flag. But there was one last detail of River Road that I forgot about—another dip in the road right before the finish at the four way stop.

  Suddenly, that all too familiar feeling hit me again. The weightlessness of the road disappearing, followed by the slamming of my car against the pavement told me I had just come across the last hurdle River Road had to offer. I soared over the finish line like an eagle, passing the earthbound bystanders.

  When I crash-landed back to the ground, my car turned in a sideways skid, screeching every inch of the way until coming to a stop. I gathered myself just in time to see the soaring Darryl coming at me in mid-air. It was apparent he made the same mistake I did and hit the dip with blazing speed.

  His Camaro sparked like an artillery shell in a fireworks show when he contacted the ground. He started to slide sideways towards me and I calmly stared at his approaching heavy metal. I focused, willing the oncoming mass to slow down before getting to me. It came to rest right next to my car, giving it a slight kiss of a touch before it stopped completely.

  The race was over. Darryl was defeated.

  A crowd of screaming and jumping teens raced at us in elation. In no time, our cars were surrounded by the energized flock. People leaned into our windows, congratulating us on the awesome race they’d just witnessed.

  I opened my car door to get out. Darryl did, too. Our eyes locked again as the encouraging crowd stroked our egos. People I didn’t know were patting me on the back and giving me well wishes. I think some part of the enthusiasm aimed my way was because Darryl was such a jerk and they were glad to see him embarrassed.

  Whatever their reasons, I didn’t care. I didn’t do it for them. I did it for Shade, and maybe a little for my own amusement.

  I struggled to look around the sea of heads that had now completely engulfed us, trying to find her. I didn’t see her right off the bat, but Sandra and her other two girlfriends riding with Shade earlier were cutting through the crowd.

  Before I knew it, they stood in front of me. I never spoke a word to Sandra prior to this moment and was pleasantly surprised when she smiled and thanked me, only to follow that up with the tightest hug I have ever received. It was so tight it almost hurt. I think she was thrilled to see someone finally stand up to Darryl, not to mention defend her friend’s honor and make him look bad in the process.

  I was even more gratified when all three girls hugged me. I hoped Shade would be next, but I still hadn’t seen her yet, and was mildly disappointed.

  But then, as they turned to make their way back through the crowd, there she was. Shade stood low behind them, almost ducking, like she was trying not to encounter me in the middle of all the celebrating. She didn’t approach like her friends did and I was strangely bothered as to why.

  Her friends disappeared back into the crowd and Shade slowly followed. Then suddenly, she stopped and looked back at me. Her mouth parted like she wanted to say something, but she looked at the ground and migrated into the distance. I kept watching her, hoping maybe she would change her mind and come back, but she didn’t. The back of her head disappeared as she slid among the masses.

  “Leo! That was awesome, man!” Scruffy shouted over the already vocal gathering. He weaved around people, struggling to get through, almost jumping on me as he threw his arms around my back in a bro hug.

  “Easy, man.” I patted his arms that remained around my back before quickly yanking off his celebratory death grip.

  “Dude, Darryl is never going to live this down! You just kicked his butt! You have balls that clank, my friend. Hopefully, this will close his mouth for a little while.” Scruffy smiled from ear to ear.

  “Yeah, right. He’ll find something else to brag about.”

  “You’re probably right, but now you better watch out, Leo. If you weren’t on his radar before, you’re most certainly are now. There’s no telling what that idiot may try to get you involved in next.”

  Scruffy was right. Darryl wasn’t the type who could graciously accept being beaten. It was possible that I’d opened Pandora’s Box when it came to Darryl.

  Through all the praise and excitement, I lost track of Darryl. Scruffy, in his own way, just reminded me to keep aware of him. Surely he would confront me about the results of the race. There was no way he would go quietly.

  It took only a moment to see Darryl and his friends glaring at me over the top of his car. I thought for sure he would be scanning his car for damage first before dealing with me, but to my knowledge, he never checked it, almost as if his beloved Camaro was of no consequence. This was another sign
of his false sense of entitlement. It was easy to recognize the race had left a bitter taste that he struggled to swallow.

  All at once, Darryl began pushing people out of his way. With his cronies closely in tow, he approached.

  Scruffy noticed the potential of another confrontation between Darryl and I, and he was making a move to avoid the approaching situation. He screamed to no one in particular, “Yo, John. Hold up!” He raised his hand in the effort to be noticed. “Be right back, Leo.” Scruffy hustled back into the crowd again.

  I nodded at Scruffy and quickly turned back to the oncoming Darryl and company. He was within a few feet of me now and I was on high alert, puffing out my chest, ready for another meeting. Right before we addressed each other, the intrusive sight of red and blue swirling lights came out of nowhere, lighting up the entire bottom of Miller’s Hill.

  The local police had caught us all red-handed, loitering. The sirens blurted on and off in an effort to disperse the crowd. The cops were casually pulling through the scattering people.

  One would have thought a bomb went off in the middle of the group. All I could see, with help of the police lights illuminating the area, were heads and bodies shuffling in every direction, trying to get to their cars. The old saying of cockroaches scattering when the lights come on fully applied to the scenario at hand.

  The sounds of engines filled the night as headlights swung in every direction. I looked back to see Darryl piling into his lightly dinged up car.

  I didn’t have much time to delay, either. I scanned for Scruffy and couldn’t find him anywhere in the mad rush. I figured he had jumped in someone else’s ride, so I was sure he was okay. It wasn’t the first time we had to leave each other in this way. It was pretty common knowledge among all the local youth, if a cop shows up to ruin a party, jump into the nearest friendly automobile and get the heck out of Dodge.

  I took one last look around for him and hopped into my Stang. When I started up my engine to leave, I noticed a cop in his police unit, facing my driver’s side door. He had me dead to rights about twenty-five yards away. If I took off like a bat out of hell, he would surely give chase and bust my butt. Maybe he was too preoccupied in his squad car by all the kids running to take notice of me. Or maybe, if I could pull into the trees, kill my engine and hide, he would lose interest. Especially since all the murky fog had long since settled in and it was a lot harder to see.