Drift

by Patrick Jones

  “I see videos of people drifting here,” Kekoa asked. “You know any of them?”

  “There’s a scene by Pearl that’s a mix of Japanese kids and navy brats. Then there’s one I’ve only heard about at some mall where all these rich posers race, and then there’s—”

  “Tantalus Mountain.”

  “That’s the real scene. But since I’ve got no car, I’ve just seen the vids. Looks wild.”

  Although Kekoa had avoided making enemies at his new school, three weeks in, he’d yet to meet a friend. “You asked me if I drifted, right? Well, if you want to find out, how about we hit Tantalus tonight?”

  “Icy!” Sonny said. They exchanged digits and talked until the sun set over the Pacific.

  “There’s somebody at the door about a part,” Kekoa’s grandma shouted into the garage.

  Kekoa looked at his phone. It was almost ten at night. He wiped the grease from his hands and started toward the door. He’d hoped his grandma would be asleep by now so he could sneak out.

  “Send them around back!” Kekoa said as he walked through the maze of boxes toward the side door. He’d moved some stuff into the attic to make room for his ride.

  He peeked through the dirty window before he opened the door. While all the parts he was selling were from his grandfather’s old store, that didn’t mean the cops wouldn’t hassle him.

  “Who is it?”

  The figure outside was chubby and wore a San Fran Giants ball cap down low. Skin that looked dark like Kona coffee. Lots of bracelets but no tats. Probably not a banger.

  “I need a part,” the voice said. High pitched, really young. Kekoa opened the door.

  The girl passed him a note with her blistered hands.

  Kekoa opened the note. “Anti-roll bar for 1987 Toyota Supra. Is this for you?”

  The girl turned her hat around. She was pretty, with a nice smile, thick eyebrows, and big brown eyes behind small glasses with silver rims. “I don’t think so,” she laughed.

  “I don’t do business with people I don’t know. What’s your name?” Kekoa asked.

  “Adila,” she answered. Kekoa smiled. Sonny had made his day, but Adila owned the night.

  “I’m ready to go now,” Shane said.

  “Where’d you get the part?” Billy asked.

  “Some hapa in the hood. Tucker paid Adila to do it. No way I’d go.”

  Billy laughed at Shane. “Mistake, man. You could’ve showed off for Adila. Yet another reason I’ll win that bet.”

  “We’ll see what you have tonight,” Shane said, but Billy cut him down with a glare.

  Just like the week before, Billy and his friends gathered at the mall. Once again, Shane had hired a DJ. But unlike the previous Saturday, when Billy’s dad was in town and Billy needed to get home at a decent hour, there were no rules. He was the man of the mall lot, but he longed to be king of the mountain.

  “If you need anything for your cars, let Tucker know. Or I could help,” Shane said.

  “I’ll have Adila take me. Then I’ll take her to paradise,” Billy said.

  Shane laughed. “You’re the man, Billy, that’s for sure.”

  After the hangers-on and spectators left the mall, no doubt impressed with Billy’s abilities, it was time for the real fun of the night. They rode to Tantalus. Billy led the way. On the drive up, he talked nonstop to Tucker, who was three cars behind, as Billy tried to figure out the best way forward with Adila. Nothing he’d tried so far had worked, which he couldn’t stand. Billy didn’t lose at anything. It wasn’t a matter of if he’d get what he wanted but when.

  “Okay, Tucker, you set it up, but you better concentrate now, son,” Billy said, then hung up as they reached the base of the mountain. No time for talk. Time for action. Time to drift.

  The winding mountain road—recently resurfaced, thanks to Billy’s father’s friends on the city council—had been featured in several video games. As his Toyota sped up the mountain, Billy thought about all the people beneath him who would never know the rush of drifting except through video games or YouTube. He turned on the camera in his car just before the first big turn. Big not only for the angle but for the risk.

  Billy had learned to drift through trial and error on the grounds of his estate and the school driveway, striking the right balance. A few cars and few years later, he was becoming the maestro of the mountain.

  He hit the first turn perfectly, yanking the emergency brake and then steering into the drift. He maintained control even as the steering wheel spun like an out-of-control roulette wheel at one of his dad’s Hong Kong casinos. Behind him, Billy heard the squeal of tires and breathed the smell of rubber.

  Each turn he added more speed, knowing his ride was perfectly balanced. The best mechanics on the island had turned his Toyota into a drifting machine. As his car skidded from side to side, Billy thought about those losers racing in the streets in a straight line for ten seconds or going around in circles for hours. Drifting was about side-to-side motion. Like a turbocharged game of squash where the driver was the ball, bouncing back and forth.

  At the top of the mountain, Billy pulled onto the small shoulder of the road. He climbed out of the car and sucked in the night air, but it did nothing to get the smell of burnt rubber out of his nose. Just like his anti-roll bar stabilized his ride, drifting this mountain stabilized his life. And the top spot provided his favorite view: looking down on everyone else.

  “Drifting is a sport for losers,” Sonny laughed. Kekoa rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he asked as he handed Sonny the wrench. They were putting in a passenger’s seat so Sonny could ride along when Kekoa drifted on Tantalus Mountain.

  “Your car is a one-seater, so it’s a great car for a loser without friends or a girlfriend.”

  Kekoa broke the stare and laughed along, in part because he realized Sonny was right. But even though he didn’t have any new friends except Sonny and no girlfriend—until he got up the courage to call Adila—he didn’t feel like a loser. “So, let’s hit that mall you told me about. The action pretty good?”

  Sonny set down the wrench and pulled out his phone. He loaded a video of cars drifting at White Circle Mall. He and Kekoa studied each drift carefully.

  “Look at the red Altezza go!” Kekoa said.

  “That guy’s using the e-brake,” Sonny explained. “Real drifters, the best ones, consider that almost cheating, but then, these guys don’t compete.”

  “Well, that’s something I guess we have in common,” Kekoa said. “Unless you go to Japan and race professionally, we’re just showing off. Even that mall stuff isn’t a real race.”

  “Trust me, I know something about these guys. We have nothing in common with them.”

  Kekoa grunted as he tightened the bolt on the seat belt holder. “They drift, so do I, and you will too one day. They use a vacant garage, but we’ll use empty project streets.”

  Sonny put the phone back in his pocket and started back to work on the seat. “The mall’s not vacant.”

  “Then how are they—”

  “I heard one of the kids’ dad owns it. He lets him and his pals use it.”

  “Must be nice to have that.”

  “Money?” Sonny asked.

  “No, a dad who does things for you.”

  After testing out a new stabilizer they’d installed, Kekoa and Sonny made their way to the vacant project roads. Kekoa had never drifted with someone in the car with him, so he was tentative, almost afraid. But Sonny was having the time of his life.

  “Man, this is great,” Sonny shouted as he breathed in the fumes. “It’s like being a pair of Chucks inside a clothes dryer, and the rubber souls are burning. This is sweet.”

  “If I’m going to show this baby off, I’m gonna need some performance tires.”

  “I know the best place,” Sonny said. “And they’re even legal!”

  “Unlike this!” Kekoa shouted as he pressed on the accelerator, heading for the turn. Kekoa steered
the car to the outside of the turn on the approach. This moved the weight to the outside wheels. Sensing the wheels losing traction, Kekoa quickly steered into the turn. When the car’s suspension kicked back, the weight shifted so quickly that the back end flicked out to start the drift. “It’s a feint drift but ain’t nothing fake about it!”

  “You’re good at this,” Sonny said. He was almost hyperventilating.

  “And I want to get better,” Kekoa said.

  “Only one way to do that: you gotta get pushed. Pedal to the metal.”

  “As you wish!”

  The next section of road was long, the perfect place to get up speed for a Kansei drift. He entered the turn at 70 MPH, then released the gas pedal. He felt the jolt as the car’s weight shifted to its front wheels, initiating a drift as the rear tires lost traction. Sonny looked scared, but not Kekoa. He was in control even of an out-of-control car.

  “These are the best, the very best, right?” Billy asked the salesman at RAD Motorsports.

  “For performance tires for your vehicle, absolutely,” the timid salesman said.

  “They have to function and look good. I’m all about looking good.”

  Shane, Tucker, and Ryan laughed. All four were dressed in white shorts and red polo shirts from their country club. “And rims—I want some sweet chrome, not that gaudy crap you sold me last time.”

  “As I told you, Mr. Cain, I’ll provide you with a store credit,” the salesman said as he pasted on a typical salesman smile.

  “Okay, I’ll get ’em on the Altezza today and bring in my other cars later, understand?”

  The salesman nodded. Billy grabbed his wallet and pulled out the Platinum AmEx card.

  “Don’t worry about that, Mr. Cain. It’s all taken care of. Thank you for your business.”

  Billy shrugged. He led the way outside, where his Altezza was parked. He pulled it slowly into the garage and then tossed the keys to the mechanic. “Don’t F it up.”

  The mechanic lowered his eyes. Billy joined his friends in the parking lot. Tucker sat in the driver’s seat of his gold Lexus, his non-drift car, while Ryan and Shane sat in the back. When Billy got in the passenger’s seat, Shane handed him an energy drink.

  “Where to?” Tucker asked.

  “Wherever we want, I guess,” Billy said. Everybody laughed. “Your place, Tucker. Just in case Adila might stop by. You think you could arrange that?”

  Tucker paused. “I don’t know, my mom might not like—”

  “Man up, Tucker,” Billy said.

  “Right, man up,” Shane and Ryan said at the same time.

  “If you want to hang with us, you’d better learn to be a little more cooperative,” Billy said. He had the tone of a parent speaking to a young child.

  Tucker dropped his head down. “Sorry, Billy. Sure, I’ll figure something out.”

  “Maybe you could bring her with you next Saturday,” Billy suggested.

  “But my Silvia only has one seat.”

  “Strap her to the top!” Shane said.

  “Or maybe you bring her in the Lexus and just watch. If you do that, then maybe next time we do the mountain, I’ll let you follow behind me. How does that sound?” Billy asked.

  “Whatever you say,” Tucker said.

  Billy gulped down the energy drink, rolled down the window, and tossed out the empty can. Before it hit the pavement, Shane handed him another one.

  “Hey, Billy, is that guy going to make you pay for those tires or what?” Shane asked.

  Billy popped the can’s tab. “He’s one of the few independent auto stores in town, so.”

  “So, why doesn’t your dad just buy him out?” Ryan asked.

  Billy laughed. “Ryan, don’t you know anything? If you put him out of business, then what do you have? Nothing. But if he’s in business, I let him know he’s vulnerable, then what?”

  The car went silent except for the ever-present hip-hop booming bass.

  “He’s like Adila’s mom,” Billy said. “He’s powerless, but he thinks he’s free. As long as people think that way, then the better for all of us.” The car exploded in laughter.

  “Good one, Billy,” Tucker said.

  Billy poked his finger in Tucker’s shoulder. “Not just good. The best.”

  “Did you feel the difference?” Sonny asked as Kekoa finished up a jump drift.

  “Where were you when I needed you back in Hilo?”

  Kekoa felt ready to leave the project streets and make his way out toward Pearl Harbor Naval Base. While there was still more work to be done on the car, which required both money and time, Kekoa wanted to introduce himself to the drifting scene sooner rather than later. Also maybe drum up some auto part business.

  “In my house, reading about drifting when I should’ve been doing homework,” Sonny said. “You got to be rich or connected, and I’m neither.”

  “But you’re smart,” Kekoa said.

  “About cars, yeah. Everything else, not so much.”

  “Explain again why this drifts so much better?” Kekoa asked. He drove out toward Pearl carefully. In Hilo, his friends were always getting pulled over for speeding and then getting tickets for making illegal modifications. Kekoa drove the limit and stayed free of the cops.

  “Camber angle, the angle of wheel, impacts how the wheel contacts the road,” Sonny started. Kekoa listened as Sonny explained how the aggressive negative camber setting in the front wheels improved tracking during counter-steering and improved turn-in capacity. A negative camber setting burned up tires quicker, added risk, and made drifting better. “I guess since you have negative settings in the back and the front, two wrongs to make a right.”

  Kekoa looked quickly to see there were no police around as he and Sonny drove down the large industrial streets on the way to Pearl.

  “I better enjoy this now ’cause we’ll need to get this seat out of here at Pearl,” Sonny said.

  “I’m up for that!” Kekoa said, then launched into another drift on the open road.

  Kekoa lowered the music as he pulled into the big open lot not far from Pearl Harbor. Just as Sonny had described, it was a mix of Asian kids, probably Japanese, and white guys with short hair.

  Sonny pointed toward the entrance. “It looks like they’re fighting World War II again.”

  “Yeah, except Japan won. Everybody’s driving their cars,” Sonny laughed.

  “What was this place?” Kekoa stared at the huge vacant lot.

  “I don’t know,” Sonny answered. “I heard it was going be used for solar power, but some of the bigwigs in town make too much money importing oil, so that ain’t happening.”

  A big crowd had gathered around a makeshift drift-racing track. Guys raced two at a time, producing clouds of exhaust and smoke. Kekoa parked, and then he and Sonny walked over to the crowd, trying to blend in.

  “Hey, who invited you?” some guy with a crew cut shouted at Kekoa.

  “We’d heard this was the place to be,” Sonny answered. The guy glared at Kekoa.

  “How old are you guys?” Crew Cut asked.

  “Old enough,” Kekoa answered, glaring back.

  The guy nodded, smiled, and stepped back.

  “You got judges, or just running for fun?” Kekoa asked.

  “No judges, no rules, no fees. Just a bunch of guys blowing off steam. Well I guess there’s one rule.”

  “What’s that?” Sonny asked.

  “Nobody just watches, because that’s how you get snitches,” Crew Cut said, still looking at Kekoa as if Sonny didn’t exist. “You wanna watch, you gotta drift. You got a car?”

  “It’s not a car,” Kekoa pointed at his ride. “It’s a 350 and a lean, mean drifting machine.”

  “These are my friends, Billy, Shane, and Ryan,” Tucker shouted over the music in the mall parking garage as he parked his Acura next to Billy’s Toyota.

  “And who is this?” Billy leaned in the open passenger’s side window.

  “Adila,” Adila sai
d. Billy motioned for Shane and Ryan to back away from the car, which they quickly did.

  “What a pretty name. What does it mean?” Billy asked.

  Adila looked at the floor of the car. Billy didn’t like when people didn’t make eye contact with him.

  “It is Swahili,” Adila said. “It means ‘justice.’”

  Billy’s ever-present smile dimmed for a moment, but he switched it back on. “Did Tucker here tell you what you get to experience tonight?”

  Adila nodded. Billy leaned closer. “So why haven’t we seen you down here before?”

  “I’m awfully busy,” Adila said.

  “Let me guess, with a modeling career? Where you been, Paris? Rome?”

  Adila giggled. “I’m not a model.”

  Billy shook his head. “Well, you should be, that’s for sure. You should let me help.”

  Adila sighed and turned toward Tucker. “You guys are all alike.”

  “What are you talking about?” Billy said.

  “You trust fund kids, you think everybody wants your help. I don’t need it,” Adila said. “I thought maybe one of you might be different, but I can tell that’s not the case.”

  Billy put himself at eye level with Adila. He smiled like his dad taught him—the best way he knew to close a deal. “You’re right. Most of us are the same. But you can trust me.”

  Adila laughed and Billy’s smile crashed. “Tucker, take me home, please.”

  “What was that?” Billy shouted at Tucker when Tucker returned an hour later, this time in his black and white Nissan Silvia S13. “You embarrassed me. You should leave.”

  “Hey, I said I’d bring her,” Tucker say, sounding hurt. “That’s all I was supposed to do.”

  “Good thing that Shane and Ryan didn’t hear any of that,” Billy said. “You don’t say anything, and I’ll let you stay.”

  “You said I could follow you up the mountain. What about that?” Tucker asked.

  “I like to drift, Tucker. I don’t like to be pushed,” Billy said. “Know your place.”