Follow the story of Treydon Austin (aka Smokey) as he chases down the cleverest, fastest, most uncatchable, most unmatchable members of The Bandit’s crime Syndicate as the government’s secret weapon against guys who are just too fast to catch. Check back every monday for the latest chapter to this fast paced action novel.
“Yeah,” I said, “my dad had this old motor in his Chevelle. The big block just has so much torque you know?”
“Yeah I know. My dad has a 396 in his old Chevy truck, that thing hauls”
“So do I.” I said. I threw the Turbo 400 transmission into reverse and burned out. I swung out of the parking spot, I threw it in drive, burned out again and we were off.
I took her down to 7th East. I liked that street because it was big, wide, and it didn’t get really busy until about five o’ clock. I was at the first stop light; I dropped the transmission into L. The 1978 Camaro owners manual said that L stood for ‘Low’ I knew it stood for ‘Lift Off.’ Dixie looked at me. “It looks fast, it feels fast, but is it really fast?”
I laughed and said, “Define fast.”
The light changed and I gassed it, you could feel the front end of the car wanting to lift up and take off like a rocket. The tachometer climbed to six thousand and I slapped the shifter into 2nd. We were going fifty miles an hour and climbing, and then we were going sixty, seventy, Shift to 3rd, eighty-five, and the speedometer was buried, you could hear that speed gauge over revving inside my dash board. Oh yeah, we were flying.
The light in front of us turned yellow. Dixie was laughing loudly, “Your not gunna make it” she said.
Before I could even say, ‘I bet I will’ we were through the light. I started to slow down. I exhaled, I had been holding my breath, so was Dixie, she exhaled too and said, “That… was fast.”
We pulled up to the next light. On the passenger side of me was what looked like a mid nineties Honda Prelude. It was hard to tell because it was so loaded up with a body kit, a gigantic spoiler and a coffee can sized exhaust tip which served no purpose other than to make the car even more obnoxious. It was cobalt blue with what looked like a sticker of a dragon on the side. He also had twenty-six inch rims, which is another thing that served no purpose other than to make the car even more obnoxious. He revved his engine, oh yeah, that was a four cylinder. He unrolled his window. He had a shaved head and a tattoo of a dragon on his arm. He looked pretty buff; I wouldn’t want to mess with him. His car maybe… but not him.
i like this story a lot…. 
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