Standing on the sidewalk I looked into the dark street only lit by a few street lamps, I waited for my challenger to show up. The crowd of people got louder as the black ‘69 mustang rolled up into the group of spectators. All of a sudden standing in front of me was Tyrone a six foot two black man who liked to leave you in his smoke. My palms got sweaty with fear and excitement as thoughts rolled through my head, “But not tonight, tonight he’ll be sniffing on my exhaust pipes while I blow his ride off the road.” “You ready for a whooping boy?” Tyrone said.
“The only thing that’s going to be getting whooped on is your a**.” I replied quickly. We stepped into our rides pulling around to the starting line that had been spray painted there earlier. I looked over to Tyrone, I stared into my competitors eyes reading his mind like a book. Revving the hemi, that was so neatly placed into my ‘72 Dodge charger. The light from the lamps above shined down on my metallic blue finish sparkling into the crowds eyes, making it almost hard to watch. From the sea of people walked a long legged beauty that had barley enough on to cover what little see was covering. Her hair blew in the wind as she raised her arms high above her head, she looked at both of us as she yells “READY” both arm fly down to the ground like a bomb dropped from a B52 bomber.

I can’t remember anything else from that night, I’ve been told by my friends that it wasn’t a night that I’d want to remember even if I could. They tell me that Tyrone hit my rear bumper on a turn sending me into a spin. A spin that would end with me hitting the 7/11 on the corner, that however wasn’t the end of my night. I’m sure you all know the race was over after that, seeing how the police were there faster then I’ve ever seen them respond. I was taken to Hope county hospital, put into intensive care with head trauma and more bones broken then I knew I had. It seemed like it was the longest night of my life, I didn’t know if I’d be able to go home or if I was going strait to jail. The whole time I was laying in that hospital bed my head was just throbbing with pain and thoughts of what’s going to happen to me.

A month later when I could actually use my arms and rolled around in a wheel chair I had to already appear in court. I didn’t even get time to adjust at home before they gave me there verdict. Guilty on one count of illegal street racing and one count of reckless driving. I know its pretty stupid right, Well the good news is that since I’m kind of stuck in a wheel chair for a while they put me on house arrest for six months then 950 hours of community services. Oh not to mention my license is revoked until I’m 21, and that’s only if I keep a clean record and then it’ll be restricted. So my life pretty much sucks at this point.

All my life consisted of was watching NASCAR and when that got boring I watched a little more NASCAR. My mom yelled everyday “Brock do this, Brock do that” it’s like a never ending cycle of nagging and yelling. So as the months went by it seemed like years, a nightmare that’s never ending. “Ding dong” “Yes Dan’s here”, I’ve been waiting for him to get back from Europe. I open the door “hey man long time no see.” I said as he walked in the door.
“So what’s been up criminal?”
“You know the usual except I’ve been watching a sh** load of that NASCAR, and it’s pretty sweet man.”
“Wow bro so you’ve become a red neck couch potato, nice.” Blood Started rushing to Brocks head “what was that buddy?” Brock looked at Dan with that look of anger like a bull starring you in the eyes. “Sorry dude I didn’t mean to offend you, my apologies.”
“No man its cool no problem.” “I’m just a little frustrated sitting in this house all day everyday.”
“Yea dude I know what you mean, that would suck badly if I was in your situation.”
“Dan you have no idea what this is like your parents don’t even ground you this is the ultimate grounding.”
“Brock”
“Oh great my moms home now.”
“Brock come help me with the groceries, oh hi Danny how are you?”
“I’m good Ms. Lessner and yourself?”
“Fine, but Brock grab the milk and bread from the car.”
“Ok mom!”
So as the weeks go by I learn of a NASCAR convention that’s going to be in town in a few months and I should be off house arrest if everything goes good.
“Man would I love to go to that and meet all those racers and see what it’s all like.” I can’t even imagine walking around there with all those cars and drivers man I’d love to drive round one of those tracks, going 200 miles an hour, “DAMN” dude that would be awesome.
Brock’s eyes widened as he told Dan “Ok so that’s it we can go to the convention in three months.”
A look of surprise struck across Dan’s face “what we can go, do you have a little mouse in your pocket or what because I don’t know where this we stuff came from.”
“Ok Dan forget you then I’ll do this on my own and you’ll be sorry when you see me on television winning those races.”
The next three months Dan and I had very little contact with each other. It seemed like our friendship just kind of fell apart. But you know what it was all going to pay off in the end because I was bound and determined to get this.
A crowd cheering as the announcer yells “only one lap left and we’ll have our Nextel cup champion, looks like Brock Lessner is going to take the flag.”