The afternoon sun warmed up the garage bays fairly quickly. I was busy getting Frankie cleaned back up after the events of the previous evening when I heard a powerful V8 slowing down on the road out in front of the house.
Hmmm… sounded like it had an auto with a pretty stiff shift programmed into it. I figured it might be Brandon in some new toys since the guy buys a new toy more often than anyone I know.
Stepping out into the warm sun, I looked to my right expecting to see Brandon in some other new Ford vehicle. I would not have been surprised to see him pull up in some slammed out, way over the top, Ford Edge crossover running a blown 4.6 in it tubbed and slicked - but it wasn’t an Edge at all.
Hell, it wasn’t even a Ford. Nor, as I was to find out in a just a few moments, was it even Brandon.
As the car got closer, Kelly stepped out from beneath the hood of her GTO wiping her hands on an orange shop towel to join me.
“Recognize the car?” she asked.
“Can’t say I do, babe. Looks like an import though…”
The car was still abut a quarter mile away and based on the shape, I was guessing it was a Supra or something similar.
It wasn’t a Supra – it was a dark blue Nissan 350Z. But – behind it a little ways WAS a Supra. A dark red one to be exact… looked to be a mid-90’s model while the Z was definitely one of the last gen cars. Both were heavily modded, slung low, and sounded damn good, even for what many consider rice.
Me? I like ‘ricers’ but hate that name. For me, ANY car that is fast – and not being driven by some a**hole who thinks his job is to run down everyone else’s car – is fine by me. And if it outruns my car, no prob – there is ALWAYS someone faster.
These two cars looked to be a handful against most vehicles; they were heavily cammed and both sounded like they were running big turbos, maybe more than one – I couldn’t be sure yet. But no doubt these were serious performance vehicles.
And I LIKED what I saw and heard as they slowed and pulled into the drive. The Z looked like that gorgeous deep blue paint that reminded me of what many referred to as “Daytona Blue” but thankfully did not have any of that stupid gold ‘bling’ crap you see so many driving. The wheels were unlabeled but if were a betting man (and I am), I would have guessed that what the driver paid for them would have paid my mortgage payment for a few months. Brushed aluminum outer edge with highly polished center caps and black spokes. NICE….
The Supra was wearing solid black rims that complimented the deep red paint. It wore a non-stock hood but it wasn’t anything crazy – I could tell it was Carbon Fiber because it was unpainted but with the red paint, it worked. Again… NICE.
Both cars wore heavily tinted windows so I could not see the drivers. Both sat idling in my drive for about a minute as the drivers let them cool before shutting them off. The Z idled at a slightly higher rpm and sounded like it had cams in that had lobes the size of grapefruits, it was that rough. The Supra had a rough idle but its exhaust was deeper and a little throatier. There was no doubt that these were barely legal street cars, maybe even sub-10 second warlords.
Just then, I noticed a small decal in the lower right corner of each driver’s side window. It wasn’t huge or overbearing and didn’t announce what each car was like so many you see. (Doesn’t it just kill you to see someone driving a Camaro and plastered across the windshield is the huge word “CAMARO” – as if you had no clue it was a Camaro?)
This decal was different in every way. It was small (about 3” wide and 1” tall), had plain white lettering, and simply said, “Kong’s”. Hmmm… I thought that this was going to be an interesting story.
Kelly noticed the decals too and nodded her head at them. I figured the drivers were looking at us but hey, if they put them on there, they must have wanted them noticed.
It worked. We certainly noticed them.
Suddenly, the air was still once more as both cars shut down at nearly the same time. Still, a few seconds went by as Kel and I waited, nearer the Z than the Supra, for the drivers to open the door.
The low, blue door of the Z opened first… the smell of leather hung in the air, overpowering the scent of race gas (possibly tinged with some alcohol?) wafted off in the breeze. Out stepped a thin man who had to be at least 6’ tall; no one I had ever seen before. And just as he was getting out, the Supra’s door swung open and out of it stepped a black guy who was built like a Mack Truck.
Just then, we noticed the passenger side doors opening. Out of them stepped two women who easily could have been “Hooters” girls, if you know what I mean. NICE builds, short hair on the red head that was in the Z and shoulder length blonde hair on the taller girl out of the Supra. Kelly looked at me with a “Who are these people” look but I didn’t have a clue. But – I did know one thing…
These people are into cars and probably street racing. It should be an interesting conversation…
The guys stepped up and then Z-man extended his hand. In a surprising heavily British accent he introduced himself as we shook hands.
“Hello, Mr. Morton. I’m Nathaniel Moore and this is my dear old chum, Wesley Poston. Sorry to barge in on you this lovely afternoon but we would like to talk with you – and your wife of course – about something WE believe would be mutually interesting for all of us.”
Wesley stepped up and shook hands. “Sorry, Mr. Morton – Nathaniel sometimes forgets to introduce our birds. This is Deborah and the red head is Christine.”
Nathaniel’s face blushed and I saw the toothiest grin (with good teeth even!) that I’ve ever seen as he bowed in modesty.
“We’re all from across the pond as you say – yes, bloody old England actually – brought to the US on business a few years ago. Nathaniel and I are business partners and actually we found out about you through another mutual connection but I’ll go into that a bit later. Might we go inside and get out of this sun?”
“No problem, Wesley. This is my wife Kelly…” They all reached to shake Kel’s hand and it definitely looked like the four were decent people. But – you just never know…
“Follow me. We’ll go on into the kitchen.”
“Mr. Morton, if I – “
“Please, Wesley – and Nathaniel. Call me Steve; no reason to go all formal here is there?” I laughed and they immediately agreed with shaking there heads.
“Not to bother, Steve. If I might ask – is that black car over there the GSX we’ve heard about? The one you blokes call in a loving way ‘Frankenstein’?”
We paused for a moment. As we stopped, Wesley and Nathanial walked over to the front of Frankie and stopped. Wesley’s left arm was across his chest and his right elbow in his left hand, his right hand rubbing his chin as he studied the Buick’s lines. Nathaniel just stared, his arms crossed and his eyes caressing every curve and line on the black evil sitting quietly in the shadows….
I answered… “Yes. That’s my one of a kind GSX. How did you hear about it?”
They both were silent for a moment and then turned to join us.
“Oh, Steve…. I’m sure you know; word gets around about cars like this. Word definitely gets around…”
I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with how Wesley answered that but figured I would let it go for now.
“Let’s get inside. I’ll grab some refreshments – a Cold beer? Sodas? What will you have?”
Ashley and Deborah spoke almost in unison, “Just water for me”.
Wesley, “How about a Coke?”
Nathaniel, “Nothing for me, Steve… just finished off a bottled water so I’m good.”
As we walked into the kitchen, I motioned at the table – thinking about the fun Kel and I had just had there a few hours ago – and they all took a seat. Kelly helped me get the drinks and some glasses with ice and we joined them after I grabbed another chair.
Taking a long sip of his Coke, Wesley spoke first.
“Steve, we had heard about the race last night and had made plans to attend. I believe that had the authorities not intervened in their splendidly American way, and had we gone, we – as you may have – would have lost our cars to some not-so-nice people. And actually, that is how we had heard about your GSX – rumors spread amongst the street racers, whether by word, internet forums, YouTube, and so forth.”
I never had given much thought to YouTube – I would definitely have to check that out. Wesley took another drink so Nathaniel took that as a cue for him to speak.
“What we’re getting to here, Steve, is that we heard about the Pinks show coming up. We would like to be involved if possible and were wondering if you have any info on how we might do so? We know the central theme will be the match between you and Bill’s car – a Charger is it? – but I think we’ve got some ideas that just might make it an even more, shall we say, competitive as well as interesting for the people watching.”
“Really?” I asked. “In what way?”
Wesley grinned at Nathaniel… sort of like a shark might grin if that was possible.
“Steve, we’re actually part of a team of racers. No, that’s not entirely correct – Nathaniel and I are the club leaders of a street racing team that is growing fairly quickly. We do not advocate street racing on public roads – although it happens – but we are all disappointed to see race tracks slowly disappearing. It’s even tougher over seas but at least here in America – and we are now citizens – we have a chance. That’s what this is all about – trying to revive drag racing sites around the country. Do we have your interest so far?”
Kelly and I nodded. “Sure, I’m listening – but how does this all connect back to the Pinks show? I mean – I can understand you wanting to race since you’ve obviously got some wicked cars. But what’s the connection?
Now, it was Nathaniel’s turn to shark-grin.
“Steve, first of all, we have a lot of money behind us. Our business – software security development which we have successfully sold to the U.S. and many other governments – has rewarded us greatly. We are prepared to assist with sponsoring the show by stepping up the prize money.”
Ok – MONEY talks. I’m sure Rich would be interested. I nodded for him to continue….
“Steve, Nathaniel and I are willing to offer an additional sum of $500,000 prize money to the show, to be paid out at Mr. Christensen’s discretion IF the three conditions we require are met.”
SHEESH! A half million dollars in prize money? WHY would ANYone want to donate that much money? It took just a second for me to remember – these were self-proclaimed business men. If they are going to invest – they are going to expect a return. What would that return be?
“Wesley – no one invests money for nothing, at least not in that amount. What are the conditions?”
“Well Steve, now that you’ve asked…. Here they are…”
We all pulled our chairs in close. It took Wesley and Nathaniel about ten minutes to explain the first two conditions. Kelly, with her legal background, kept nodding as if this was typical legal boilerplate. After Wesley finished the second one, she spoke.
“Well, guys… unless Speed Channel’s attorneys – or Rich – have some other reasons, I can’t imagine them not ripping your arm off for your sponsorship. But – what is the third condition?”
All of us sat back in our chairs. Wesley stood up and spoke, “I’ll be right back. I want to show you something so just wait here.”
He vanished out the kitchen door which offered me a chance to grab another Diet Coke from the fridge. I had no more than turned around and he was sitting back down with a manilla folder in hand.
“Look at this. Have you seen one of these on the streets?”
Opening the folder I could see glossy prints of what appeared to be the back end of a very low, black car with wide tires running at speed on a road track.
“Do you recognize the track, Steve?”
“No, Nathaniel, I can’t say I do. But I DO think that’s a ‘Vette isn’t it? The cloaking over it sort of hides it but I’m pretty sure it’s a ‘Vette.”
“Steve, that is indeed a Corvette. And it’s being driven on what is arguably the most famous test track in the modern world – The Nurburgring in Nurburg, Germany. This particular car, a reportedly factory production ZR1 set a new track record for its class of 7 minutes, 26.4 seconds, smashing the old record held by another fast Nissan, the GTR Skyline.”
“Ok, what is the connection with the show? Nice car but it’s a very limited production supercar. Enough money, we could have one of the – what, 100 or so they’re building? What’s the big deal?”
“Steve, we have one of the prototype ZR1’s in our stable of vehicles. As we are all aware, GM has undergone some, shall we say, ‘cash difficulties’ of late? Some of their toys were just recently sold via auction if I recall.”
He paused to let it sink in. Frankie might have company – bad, bad company – that was forged in the same angry spirit as he was. Ok…
“Well Steve, Nathaniel and I were fortunate enough to entice GM to part with the car – for a price of course - before destroying and it is sitting in a garage right now. Actually, neither he nor I own this beast even though we would like to – a club member does. But the interesting thing is that it is like your Frankie out there in your personal garage – it is a one-of-a-kind engineering marvel meant for only one thing – unrestrained, tempestuous, and unadulterated speed. It is a demonic orphan, Steve… we thought you might like to hear about it…”
“You’ve definitely got my ear, Wesley. Tell me more…”
“Ok, Steve. A standard ZR1 – is it even allowable to use ‘standard’ in describing today’s ZR1? – as hard as it is to imagine, is a tamed down version of the car in our garage, much like the GSX you own. As you well know, GSX’s that followed the trail of your car were actually quite the little kitten compared to yours, correct?”
I had to agree with him but still, the production GSX was no slouch.
“We think that it would be very interesting if we could talk our club member into coming out with the Vette. What do you think? Do you think that someone would be interested in running this Damien of the automotive world?”
They all sat back in their chairs, letting our imaginations run wild. Kelly looked at me and grinned.
“I’ll tell you what I think, gentlemen… I’m sure Steve or any other motorhead would give his right arm just to see that car on a track, much less have a chance to run it. What does it run? 10’s?”
That was when Christine spoke up in her equally charming British accent.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Morton. I’ve never actually had Kong on a strip with clocks yet.”
To be continued…
Hmmm… sounded like it had an auto with a pretty stiff shift programmed into it. I figured it might be Brandon in some new toys since the guy buys a new toy more often than anyone I know.
Stepping out into the warm sun, I looked to my right expecting to see Brandon in some other new Ford vehicle. I would not have been surprised to see him pull up in some slammed out, way over the top, Ford Edge crossover running a blown 4.6 in it tubbed and slicked - but it wasn’t an Edge at all.
Hell, it wasn’t even a Ford. Nor, as I was to find out in a just a few moments, was it even Brandon.
As the car got closer, Kelly stepped out from beneath the hood of her GTO wiping her hands on an orange shop towel to join me.
“Recognize the car?” she asked.
“Can’t say I do, babe. Looks like an import though…”
The car was still abut a quarter mile away and based on the shape, I was guessing it was a Supra or something similar.
It wasn’t a Supra – it was a dark blue Nissan 350Z. But – behind it a little ways WAS a Supra. A dark red one to be exact… looked to be a mid-90’s model while the Z was definitely one of the last gen cars. Both were heavily modded, slung low, and sounded damn good, even for what many consider rice.
Me? I like ‘ricers’ but hate that name. For me, ANY car that is fast – and not being driven by some a**hole who thinks his job is to run down everyone else’s car – is fine by me. And if it outruns my car, no prob – there is ALWAYS someone faster.
These two cars looked to be a handful against most vehicles; they were heavily cammed and both sounded like they were running big turbos, maybe more than one – I couldn’t be sure yet. But no doubt these were serious performance vehicles.
And I LIKED what I saw and heard as they slowed and pulled into the drive. The Z looked like that gorgeous deep blue paint that reminded me of what many referred to as “Daytona Blue” but thankfully did not have any of that stupid gold ‘bling’ crap you see so many driving. The wheels were unlabeled but if were a betting man (and I am), I would have guessed that what the driver paid for them would have paid my mortgage payment for a few months. Brushed aluminum outer edge with highly polished center caps and black spokes. NICE….
The Supra was wearing solid black rims that complimented the deep red paint. It wore a non-stock hood but it wasn’t anything crazy – I could tell it was Carbon Fiber because it was unpainted but with the red paint, it worked. Again… NICE.
Both cars wore heavily tinted windows so I could not see the drivers. Both sat idling in my drive for about a minute as the drivers let them cool before shutting them off. The Z idled at a slightly higher rpm and sounded like it had cams in that had lobes the size of grapefruits, it was that rough. The Supra had a rough idle but its exhaust was deeper and a little throatier. There was no doubt that these were barely legal street cars, maybe even sub-10 second warlords.
Just then, I noticed a small decal in the lower right corner of each driver’s side window. It wasn’t huge or overbearing and didn’t announce what each car was like so many you see. (Doesn’t it just kill you to see someone driving a Camaro and plastered across the windshield is the huge word “CAMARO” – as if you had no clue it was a Camaro?)
This decal was different in every way. It was small (about 3” wide and 1” tall), had plain white lettering, and simply said, “Kong’s”. Hmmm… I thought that this was going to be an interesting story.
Kelly noticed the decals too and nodded her head at them. I figured the drivers were looking at us but hey, if they put them on there, they must have wanted them noticed.
It worked. We certainly noticed them.
Suddenly, the air was still once more as both cars shut down at nearly the same time. Still, a few seconds went by as Kel and I waited, nearer the Z than the Supra, for the drivers to open the door.
The low, blue door of the Z opened first… the smell of leather hung in the air, overpowering the scent of race gas (possibly tinged with some alcohol?) wafted off in the breeze. Out stepped a thin man who had to be at least 6’ tall; no one I had ever seen before. And just as he was getting out, the Supra’s door swung open and out of it stepped a black guy who was built like a Mack Truck.
Just then, we noticed the passenger side doors opening. Out of them stepped two women who easily could have been “Hooters” girls, if you know what I mean. NICE builds, short hair on the red head that was in the Z and shoulder length blonde hair on the taller girl out of the Supra. Kelly looked at me with a “Who are these people” look but I didn’t have a clue. But – I did know one thing…
These people are into cars and probably street racing. It should be an interesting conversation…
The guys stepped up and then Z-man extended his hand. In a surprising heavily British accent he introduced himself as we shook hands.
“Hello, Mr. Morton. I’m Nathaniel Moore and this is my dear old chum, Wesley Poston. Sorry to barge in on you this lovely afternoon but we would like to talk with you – and your wife of course – about something WE believe would be mutually interesting for all of us.”
Wesley stepped up and shook hands. “Sorry, Mr. Morton – Nathaniel sometimes forgets to introduce our birds. This is Deborah and the red head is Christine.”
Nathaniel’s face blushed and I saw the toothiest grin (with good teeth even!) that I’ve ever seen as he bowed in modesty.
“We’re all from across the pond as you say – yes, bloody old England actually – brought to the US on business a few years ago. Nathaniel and I are business partners and actually we found out about you through another mutual connection but I’ll go into that a bit later. Might we go inside and get out of this sun?”
“No problem, Wesley. This is my wife Kelly…” They all reached to shake Kel’s hand and it definitely looked like the four were decent people. But – you just never know…
“Follow me. We’ll go on into the kitchen.”
“Mr. Morton, if I – “
“Please, Wesley – and Nathaniel. Call me Steve; no reason to go all formal here is there?” I laughed and they immediately agreed with shaking there heads.
“Not to bother, Steve. If I might ask – is that black car over there the GSX we’ve heard about? The one you blokes call in a loving way ‘Frankenstein’?”
We paused for a moment. As we stopped, Wesley and Nathanial walked over to the front of Frankie and stopped. Wesley’s left arm was across his chest and his right elbow in his left hand, his right hand rubbing his chin as he studied the Buick’s lines. Nathaniel just stared, his arms crossed and his eyes caressing every curve and line on the black evil sitting quietly in the shadows….
I answered… “Yes. That’s my one of a kind GSX. How did you hear about it?”
They both were silent for a moment and then turned to join us.
“Oh, Steve…. I’m sure you know; word gets around about cars like this. Word definitely gets around…”
I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with how Wesley answered that but figured I would let it go for now.
“Let’s get inside. I’ll grab some refreshments – a Cold beer? Sodas? What will you have?”
Ashley and Deborah spoke almost in unison, “Just water for me”.
Wesley, “How about a Coke?”
Nathaniel, “Nothing for me, Steve… just finished off a bottled water so I’m good.”
As we walked into the kitchen, I motioned at the table – thinking about the fun Kel and I had just had there a few hours ago – and they all took a seat. Kelly helped me get the drinks and some glasses with ice and we joined them after I grabbed another chair.
Taking a long sip of his Coke, Wesley spoke first.
“Steve, we had heard about the race last night and had made plans to attend. I believe that had the authorities not intervened in their splendidly American way, and had we gone, we – as you may have – would have lost our cars to some not-so-nice people. And actually, that is how we had heard about your GSX – rumors spread amongst the street racers, whether by word, internet forums, YouTube, and so forth.”
I never had given much thought to YouTube – I would definitely have to check that out. Wesley took another drink so Nathaniel took that as a cue for him to speak.
“What we’re getting to here, Steve, is that we heard about the Pinks show coming up. We would like to be involved if possible and were wondering if you have any info on how we might do so? We know the central theme will be the match between you and Bill’s car – a Charger is it? – but I think we’ve got some ideas that just might make it an even more, shall we say, competitive as well as interesting for the people watching.”
“Really?” I asked. “In what way?”
Wesley grinned at Nathaniel… sort of like a shark might grin if that was possible.
“Steve, we’re actually part of a team of racers. No, that’s not entirely correct – Nathaniel and I are the club leaders of a street racing team that is growing fairly quickly. We do not advocate street racing on public roads – although it happens – but we are all disappointed to see race tracks slowly disappearing. It’s even tougher over seas but at least here in America – and we are now citizens – we have a chance. That’s what this is all about – trying to revive drag racing sites around the country. Do we have your interest so far?”
Kelly and I nodded. “Sure, I’m listening – but how does this all connect back to the Pinks show? I mean – I can understand you wanting to race since you’ve obviously got some wicked cars. But what’s the connection?
Now, it was Nathaniel’s turn to shark-grin.
“Steve, first of all, we have a lot of money behind us. Our business – software security development which we have successfully sold to the U.S. and many other governments – has rewarded us greatly. We are prepared to assist with sponsoring the show by stepping up the prize money.”
Ok – MONEY talks. I’m sure Rich would be interested. I nodded for him to continue….
“Steve, Nathaniel and I are willing to offer an additional sum of $500,000 prize money to the show, to be paid out at Mr. Christensen’s discretion IF the three conditions we require are met.”
SHEESH! A half million dollars in prize money? WHY would ANYone want to donate that much money? It took just a second for me to remember – these were self-proclaimed business men. If they are going to invest – they are going to expect a return. What would that return be?
“Wesley – no one invests money for nothing, at least not in that amount. What are the conditions?”
“Well Steve, now that you’ve asked…. Here they are…”
We all pulled our chairs in close. It took Wesley and Nathaniel about ten minutes to explain the first two conditions. Kelly, with her legal background, kept nodding as if this was typical legal boilerplate. After Wesley finished the second one, she spoke.
“Well, guys… unless Speed Channel’s attorneys – or Rich – have some other reasons, I can’t imagine them not ripping your arm off for your sponsorship. But – what is the third condition?”
All of us sat back in our chairs. Wesley stood up and spoke, “I’ll be right back. I want to show you something so just wait here.”
He vanished out the kitchen door which offered me a chance to grab another Diet Coke from the fridge. I had no more than turned around and he was sitting back down with a manilla folder in hand.
“Look at this. Have you seen one of these on the streets?”
Opening the folder I could see glossy prints of what appeared to be the back end of a very low, black car with wide tires running at speed on a road track.
“Do you recognize the track, Steve?”
“No, Nathaniel, I can’t say I do. But I DO think that’s a ‘Vette isn’t it? The cloaking over it sort of hides it but I’m pretty sure it’s a ‘Vette.”
“Steve, that is indeed a Corvette. And it’s being driven on what is arguably the most famous test track in the modern world – The Nurburgring in Nurburg, Germany. This particular car, a reportedly factory production ZR1 set a new track record for its class of 7 minutes, 26.4 seconds, smashing the old record held by another fast Nissan, the GTR Skyline.”
“Ok, what is the connection with the show? Nice car but it’s a very limited production supercar. Enough money, we could have one of the – what, 100 or so they’re building? What’s the big deal?”
“Steve, we have one of the prototype ZR1’s in our stable of vehicles. As we are all aware, GM has undergone some, shall we say, ‘cash difficulties’ of late? Some of their toys were just recently sold via auction if I recall.”
He paused to let it sink in. Frankie might have company – bad, bad company – that was forged in the same angry spirit as he was. Ok…
“Well Steve, Nathaniel and I were fortunate enough to entice GM to part with the car – for a price of course - before destroying and it is sitting in a garage right now. Actually, neither he nor I own this beast even though we would like to – a club member does. But the interesting thing is that it is like your Frankie out there in your personal garage – it is a one-of-a-kind engineering marvel meant for only one thing – unrestrained, tempestuous, and unadulterated speed. It is a demonic orphan, Steve… we thought you might like to hear about it…”
“You’ve definitely got my ear, Wesley. Tell me more…”
“Ok, Steve. A standard ZR1 – is it even allowable to use ‘standard’ in describing today’s ZR1? – as hard as it is to imagine, is a tamed down version of the car in our garage, much like the GSX you own. As you well know, GSX’s that followed the trail of your car were actually quite the little kitten compared to yours, correct?”
I had to agree with him but still, the production GSX was no slouch.
“We think that it would be very interesting if we could talk our club member into coming out with the Vette. What do you think? Do you think that someone would be interested in running this Damien of the automotive world?”
They all sat back in their chairs, letting our imaginations run wild. Kelly looked at me and grinned.
“I’ll tell you what I think, gentlemen… I’m sure Steve or any other motorhead would give his right arm just to see that car on a track, much less have a chance to run it. What does it run? 10’s?”
That was when Christine spoke up in her equally charming British accent.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Morton. I’ve never actually had Kong on a strip with clocks yet.”
To be continued…
