Riding with a passenger isn’t the best idea when you’re running a race. For one, it’s extra weight that just slows your car down, and when every second counts, you want your car as light as possible. Passengers also tend to be distracting, talking and doing things that take your mind off the road. Plus, they’re a liability. You’re less likely to make risky moves when you know someone else’s life is on the line but your own.

But seeing Layla’s eyes light up when she saw cars pouring down the track touched my heart a little. It reminded me of when I saw my first race. And she did a good job pulling me up from being in a shitty mood. Layla was quite the character, and I appreciated that. I wanted to pay her back for being such an awesome girl.

I pulled open the passenger door of The Beast and waved my hand for her to sit inside before rounding the car and hopping in the driver’s seat.

“Stick your right arm through this loop and your left through this one, then latch them together,” I said as I showed her how the racing seatbelts worked. I pulled my seatbelt on as well, then fired up my car.

It roared. The modified Hemi engine under the hood was incredibly powerful and had a grunt to it like no other car I owned before. Each and every time I started her up, it brought a smile to my face. When I looked over to Layla, she was pushed hard up against her seat and already looked scared.

“We haven’t even moved yet.”

“Yeah, but your car is a little scary. It sounds crazy.”

I laughed. “Good. Let’s hope the other racers think the same as you.”

I pulled The Beast slowly out of the parking area and rounded to a piece of land a couple hundred feet behind the drag strip. They had already shut the drag area down, and everyone had gathered round to a new starting line that was setup for the sprints. There were no seats there—standing only.

The objective of the sprints was to race down the winding roads that led up to the Bluff, speed around a few low traffic roads that connected to another path that wound up the Bluff on the other side. The whole length of the race was only about 8 miles, but it was considerably dangerous since there were no guard rails on the roads that wound up and down, and the risk of traffic or other obstructions on the stretch at the bottom were real.

I cruised up to the long, white starting line and waited for the rest of the racers to gather. Beside me, I could see Benny sitting in his Corvette Stingray on one side, and on the other side was Kyle and Johnny, riding in their El Camino low rider. There were no restrictions on what kind of car you could bring to the sprints. Just two rules:

1. Drive to win.
2. No one takes responsibility for any damage to your car or your health but you.

“What is this for?” Layla asked as she moved her finger towards a large red button that was positioned in the center of my dash.

“You don’t want to touch that,” I said. “It’s the NOS ignition button.”

“NOS?” she asked.

“Nitrous oxide. It’ll turn The Beast into a fighter jet… Not literally, but it’ll make her go so fast that you might just piss your pants.”

Layla’s hand jerked her hand from the dash and crossed her arms neatly on her lap. “Okay…”

Within another couple minutes, all 11 racers who were driving in the sprint that night had lined up on the starting line, and a quick inspection was done to make sure everyone was setup properly.

The crowd was clapping and cheering as Tina, the girl who usually signaled the start to all of the races walked out in front of the cars. Some of the crowd had already started walking towards the edge of the Bluff so they could watch us pass by and get an idea of who was leading as we wound down and circled to the other side. We’d end up in the same spot at the end, but other than one lookout who was posted on street level, the only other way to see who was leading the race was to look off the edge.

“You ready for this?” I asked as I watched Tina raise her arms high into the air.

Layla nodded erratically. “I think so.”

Tina dropped her arms, and I grabbed the gear shift, released the clutch and shoved my foot hard into the gas.

The Beast roared.