Michael and Michelle arrived back at the farm. They found their father out on the porch, sitting in a folding chair. "What did you guys do..." he grumbles.

Michael wanted to tell the truth but... "We.. uh...went to uh see if we could get any water to put out the fire." Michelle says quickly before Michael could say anything.

Their father leans back in is chair. Michael speaks up. "Look, we can sell the Mustang and the BRZ to cover the rent for the next year...I've done the math. " He says hastily. "Don't you fucking think about it. They're the only god damn thing I did right by you two..." their father said. He meant it.

Michelle follows Michael inside. Michelle sits on the couch, checking her HoloWatch. "Dude you have to see this, " she says, her mouth falling open. Michael sits next to Michelle. She waves her hand, and the watch projects a 3D video in the middle of the room. It's a full view of the dash cam video of last nights downhill run. But what Michelle was referring to was the the view counter at the bottom left of the screen. It was at 3.2 million views. Michael took a second to realize what that meant.

Michael was stunned. They scrolled through the comments. Stuff like "I spit my cereal when he turned off his lights" and "Imma kms, don't own a drivable car." Michelle pinned "You missed the crowd!". She quit the the menu by making a fist, then motioned to the private message tab.

There was one. "6:00PM this Friday, Kempton Docks. Bring your cars.-RA" They knew what that was. The message meant they had been invited to a street race. By a Racing Authority talent scout. They would have the opportunity to prove themselves, and if they did well, then they could attract sponsors and if they did well still, then they could be invited to a proper professional race series.

"Which of us was it for?" Michelle asks. "He said cars, not car." Michael said. Michelle raises her eyebrows and says "Do you want to do it?." Michael thought hard for a minute. "It'll be dangerous as hell, and dad won't like it. But we could save the farm with any prize money we win. Assuming Baxter doesn't try and kill us after what you just did."
"Ok then. We should definitely think about it"
*******
The next day was a Monday. School. Michael and Michelle got in their cars at 7:00 AM, and headed into city. The drive into Kempton his long, and they have to go fast in order to make it on time. They needed to average 60 miles per hour on a mixture of dirt roads and rough asphalt. It's nearly 50 miles long, because the road goes precariously through the mountains, and then the city is designed to fit a lot of people and buildings in to a tiny space, meaning they have to take long winding streets and alleyways that are miles long, but the actual distance directly is really a few hundred feet from block to block. This is because the overcrowded city is built in a sort of tiered layout, buildings and streets built on and giant, near transparent, super strength plastic polymer overpasses that twist and wind their way through the skyline like vines through a rain forest. The place resembled a giant hot wheels track. And yet it is the most efficient design. AutoCabs use GPS and are self driving, so they can navigate the streets effortlessly, so there are no issues with traffic or getting lost. Michael and Michelle not only have to travel from point A to point B on the ground, but also go downwards into the city towards the ground. It's like mountain touge, but with heavily banked 5 lane roads and swarms of traffic.

It was in this way that Michael and Michelle honed their driving skills. 50 miles, a short endurance race every morning, with a strict time limit. Weaving in and out of traffic, carrying speed through heavily banked turns, sliding in and out of alleyways. They had been doing it since they were 12, since the AutoBus stopped going to Redview.

They descend into the city from the mountains, going deeper and deeper into the city. The school was on ground level. The drive is incredibly dangerous, because the AutoCabs are blind to driven cars. They won't stop or move out of the way. Then there is the stress on the driver, the blinding neon signs and holographic billboards, the massive sense of vertigo as you plunge your way down the city streets, past skyscrapers hundreds of stories high. But they did it. Every. Single. Morning. Monday through Friday. And loved every minute of it. Because for some reason, they didn't know why, when they were behind the wheel of a driven car, a gasoline fueled, explosion driven living machine, they felt truly alive.

They arrived at school at 7:50, ten minutes before the bell rang. Kempton High was a wide, short building. It was quite run down. They slid their cars into to the parking lot, and sprinted to get in line for the metal detector. The rusty security robot, a scrawny bipedal thing, X-Rays their back packs. Could never be too careful, the drug trade was running rampant throughout the halls of the school, and there had already been two minor shootings this semester. They went their separate ways in the halls, passing lockers and students, towards their separate classes. The place reeked of weed, vape cigarettes and pheromone deodorant. A few of the sports players were taking steroids in the hallway. Michael headed towards his English class. On his way there, a tall, thin guy with brown hair, dark brown eyes, wearing a hoodie with "Ask about my Civic" written on it, old jeans and a rare vintage TheSLAPTrain baseball cap started to walk next to him.

"Sup Mikey!"

"How's is your Civic"

"It's going to be great! I've saved up just enough for the down payment! I finally ordered it from Japan. And no I didn't get ripped off, like you said I would. Reputable import firm, Fujiwara Performance Imports, has great reviews! I saw your vid last night and was like what the hell, an R32 is overrated anyway."

"Dude admit it. Your Japanese Skype girlfriend that we NEVER SEE was never going to get you a discount on a Skyline. 32's go for a million credits unrestored. What kind of Civic is it?."
"EK9 Type R. Fully restored, no mods. Apparently was used at a racing school for touge. I've got the whole build planned. Oh and Mako's real."

"Bullshit."

"You'll see. I've got the whole build planned. New wheels, body kit, carbon hood, slammed coilovers, and a 3 inch exhaust. Oh and 10k watt sound system it's gonna be DOPE."
"Dude don't be a ricer. Put at least a turbo or a new diff or something"

That was Nick. A total JDM fanboy, and Michael's best friend. They had met in middle school, when he literally followed them home by taking several AutoCabs just so he could get a photo of Michelle's BRZ. Michael found him annoying most of the time, but he was very supportive, they often rode together in the canyons, where Michael taught him to drive. He was fast, but not nearly as quick as Michael and Michelle. They had most of their classes together anyway, and Michael didn't have a lot of other friends.

"So is your sister still dating that guy... Jeff... ?"

"Chad. "

"Yeah. They broke up right?"

"Dude. No. She's my fucking sister. Besides she's not into guys. She just likes to mess with them and use them. It's a bad idea."

"A lesbian? That means... oh damn that would be HOT. I could have a three-"
"That's not what I meant. And that's not how lesbians work any way. Get your brain outta pornhub."

"But still-"

They made it too the classroom, a giant auditorium, which filled up with about a hundred students. A middle aged Mexican woman, the teacher walled up behind stuffy bullet proof glass. Someone dropped a textbook loudly, the sound not unlike a gunshot. The teacher flinched.
"Hah! This bitch is gun shy!" Nick shouts. About a two thirds of the class laughs, the remaining third remembering the last shooting. Michael shrugged and got the cracked IPad Pro 16 from under his chair and began to do his school work.
**********
Michael went through school like he always had, paying attention and trying things he thought he could do, ignoring bullies. He wasn't a saintly straight A student, but he passed all his classes. Finally lunch time arrived. Michael and Nick sat in an empty spot in the corner. Michelle joined them a few minutes later. "What up boys!" She says happily. Nick attempted to have a conversation with Michelle about his Civic. Michael was about to to call him a ricer. But then his mind went blank.

A tall girl with an hourglass figure, with strawberry blonde hair that was so long it went past her waist, had just walked in to the cafeteria. She had bright green eyes, fair skin, she just was stunningly beautiful. Michael felt like Peter Parker from the GOOD Spider Man movies (the highly meemed Toby Maguire version) "Aunt May, Is that an angel?" . She wore a green sleeveless button down shirt and thigh length denim shorts. Then Michael realized she was heading right for their lunch table.

"Excuse me luv, may I sit here?"

Her voice was beautiful too, but her accent...

"Uh sorry what did you say? " Michelle says without thinking. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! That's really rude, asshole, he thinks to himself.

"Oh serry. I'm Amelia. Scottish exchange student. It's meh accent. I heard EK9. That's the closest bloody thing I've heard to real bloody automotive enthusiasts I've hard since I gote here."
She's hot and she's into cars! Michael thinks. He was already falling in love. "Yeah we're the car resident guys here.My sister Michelle here and I own drive able cars." Amelia raises her eyebrows and smiles. "Noice! I came here to America foor the exchange program because I LOVE Muscle cars. But you can't get e'm back 'ome in Scotland. Bloody problem is theirs no bloody races or tournaments around here. All they 'ave in the bloody UK are chav's autocroosing in bloody 1.6 liter Vauxhall Corsas.

"There are, you just gotta know where to look. " Michelle says, budding in. "Palmont city's got it all... street, performance, dirt, raid, circuit, drag, touge, drift, hell even monster trucks-everything, as long as you get invited/ know the right people."

"Cool!"

"It's dangerous as hell though." Michael adds.
"Ahh.. I see how you three work. So your the won that's just quiet and looks all tough, " she says pointing to Michael, then looks at Michelle and adds "Your the chatty won who explains things, and Mr. Slap train hat over here is the annoying sidekick. Lovely."
*********
They talked. Well mostly Michelle and Amelia, as she explained where to get good food and where the good driving roads were and stuff. Then the bell rang. They went their separate ways. Throughout the rest of the day, thoughts of Amelia bounced around his head. Then, school finally ended. Now it was time for work. Michael walked out pushing through the mob of unruly teenagers to his Mustang. He sighed. He wouldn't ever be able to score a girl like Amelia in his life. He unlocked the Foxbody, and sat in the drivers seat, hastily throwing his backpack in the back seat, and clipping on his five point harnesses. He cracked his knuckles, stuck the rusty key in the ignition, and turned it. The Mustang snarls to life, and settles into its growling idle.
"Timin's off luv." Michael nearly jumped out of his seat. Amelia was leaning against drivers the window sill, eyebrows raised. "Y'know, ignition timin'. It's off balance, too advanced. It's bugging meh. Could you pop the hood?"

"Yeah, Yeah sure. " Michael says. She could hear when something was wrong with the engine. The car ran fine though. This was a minute detail that probably didn't matter. But still... any excuse to spend time with this chick right?

Michael pulled the tiny plastic lever beneath the dash, and the hood popped open. Michael unbuckled himself and walked around to the front of the car, and lifted up the hood. Amelia pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips taking in the bright red Ford 302-X crate engine. Michael noticed she had tied the bottom of her shirt since he had last seen her, exposing a few inches of midriff. She was quite muscular too.

"Yoo race this cah don't yeh. I can tell by the weigh it sits on the rood. Lovely engine, a reproduction 302-X! Where'd you get this! They're extremely rare!"

"Uh, actually I use this car for deliveries and Uber believe it or not. But my sister and I go up to the canyons and do touge runs on weekends to practice."

"Oh! Like Fujiwara Takumi! He got his start from delivering tofu on Akina Pass."

"Oh my god. You know who that is!"

"Of course I bloody doo! Doesn't everyone?!"

Michael was puzzled in how she could speak a perfect Japanese name, but was barely understandable in english.

"Hoo much power is she makin'?"

"Just over three hundred."

"That's noot good at all."

"Why?"
"The standard 302-X makes about 350 'orses stock. But you've goat an open intake, a straight pipe exhaust, and the carbs 'ave been replaced race level computer controlled direct fuel injectors. You should be making farr moore. It's probably running too rich, plus bad timin'. Does it have a Racing Authority Performance Regulator ECU?"

"Actually it does. I don't mess with it at all, my sister is the one who knows that stuff. It's the standard tune".

"Alright. I need the ECU chip."

Michael reaches into the engine bay and unplugs a tiny stub of a USB stick from a electrical port from the fuel rail. He attempts to hand it to her, but she grabs his arm and messes with holo his HoloWatch, downloading the Racing Authority mobile app, and loading up the cars stats.

The Racing Authority Performance Regulator (RAPR) was how racing was regulated. Every single drive able car had one installed, it was an essential. It could calculate horsepower, cornering grip, weight, top speed, any performance attribute that mattered in terms of raw speed. Taking in all of this data, the RAPR could calculate a cars Performance Index Rating, and thus what class it was allowed to race in for Racing Authority sanctioned events.
Amelia took a look at the results.

"Hmmm... 302.3667 BHP, every part non standard on the car is rated at Endurance Racing quality. Lovely. It's B class, 521 PI points. 1.08g cornering!" She scrolls over to the ECU tuning tab, and fiddles with some numbers. The PI Rating number suddenly shoots up to 600.

"There. Let's goo test err out! " Amelia says, slamming the hood shut and opening the passenger door.

"Uhh... I have to go deliver stuff for work!..."

"Ohh, I'll goo with yeh then!"

"This takes all afternoon."

"I've got nothing else to doo. This is my first Muscle carr yeh know."

"Your funeral."

Michael got in the driver's seat, strapped himself in, and started the car. The first thing he noticed was that it started almost instantly. The engine's note sounded smoother. Amelia sat herself in the passenger's seat next to him.

"Roll cage and everything? Lovely."

Amelia grab his arm and checked the ECU readings. "She's making about my 375 horses! Seems aboot right,but yoo should get it professionally re-mapped... My family rebuilds engines back at 'ome, so that's how I know..."

Well, shit, Michael thinks. This girl knows her stuff. He pulls his car out of the parking lot, and onto the street. He flicks his wrist so his HoloWatch projects the Driver PM app on his windshield. Driver PM was an app for car owners in Palmont, a way of making extra money for delivering stuff quickly. Michael selected the first job that came up. The Pizza place. They always called him on weekdays. Michael steps on the gas, and the Mustang roars, accelerating down the street. The revs bounced off redline suddenly. He realized they were accelerating much faster.
Off throttle. Clutch, up shift to second gear. Full throttle, to redline, off throttle, clutch, third gear. Michael swerved around a group of AutoCabs, and ducked on to the on ramp, on to one of the highways. There would be a straight road for a few miles. He glanced over at Amelia. He'd driven fast with girls before, and they were usually screaming to get out of the car by this point. She was gripping a bar of the roll cage for dear life, but she had a manic grin on her face, like someone on a roller coaster.

She was still visibly agitated though. Girls like music, he thought. Luckily, he was planning on removing the radio for weight reduction until next weekend, so he took his hand off the wheel and switched it on the radio. Some sort of pop song he didn't recognize started playing.
"Oh come off it luv! I listen to real music!"

Amelia got made a motion with her hand, and her HoloWatch connects with the after market radio system via Bluetooth.

"GAS GAS GAS! I'm gonna step on the gas! And I'll be your hero!"
The heavily synthesized 90s Japanese pop band Eurobeat blasts through the speakers. Michael didn't really listen to music that often, but he found he quite liked it.

The traffic cleared away, and Michael steps on the gas, up shifting all the way to sixth gear. The Mustang's engine is now roaring louder than ever. It usually ran out of steam here, at about 130 miles per hour, but it kept accelerating, the little needle on the speedometer struggling its way to 150. Michelle claimed she'd done 160 before, so Michael keeps his foot down, the engine roaring louder and louder, the wind causing the car to sway.

"At the next exit, turn left." his watch shouts. Michael lets off the gas, and brakes hard, swerving into oncoming traffic, and narrowly avoided faceplanting into an AutoBus, and onto the off ramp, descending into the city again. Michael brakes hard, and slides the Mustang through a busy intersection coming within inches of hitting several AutoCabs, and parks it right in front of a run down looking pizza parlor.

"You ok?" Michael says to Amelia.

"Let's doo that again!"

Michael unbuckled himself, threw open the door and sprinted into the restaurant. "Where the hell have you been Michael! " a large and rather fat man in an apron shouts.
"Sorry Mr. Aziz! Car trouble"

"You have to get these pizzas across town in less than half an hour! Or we loose customer forever!"

"Got it!"

Mr. Aziz tosses Michael a large bag that contained several boxes of pizza. Michael sprinted out to the car, and tossed the pizzas in the trunk. He got in the car and floored it.

"We've got to get these pizzas to the country club in the East Canyon! In less than half an hour!"
"And this is what you doo for a living!?"

"I'm a driver. I've got to get things from point A to point B as fast as humanly possible! "
"So your an amazone drone but on steroids"

"Basically."

Michael drifts in and out of alleyways, ducking through traffic, heading for the mountains. He made it to the canyon road with 15 minutes left. Problem is, the uphill takes longer. Time to put the engine to the test.

The extra torque made it so he didn't have to down shift as often, and he could get the car in higher gears on the uphill straights. 10 minutes left. They're half way up the mountain, handbrake sliding through tight switchback hairpins.

5 minutes left. Uphill straights, loosing time here. Amelia sat quietly while the Eurobeat blasted out of the speakers.

"Deja Vu, I have been in this place before"

Final quarter. Full throttle to redline, coast through the the final corner. Michael slid the car to a halt in the parking lot at the top of the mountain, and ran up to the front gate with the pizzas with a minute