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.
“I mean the State Street races, the real races.”
“Oh.” I had to admit, I was nervous, I mean, my dad had always been against street racing. I went anyway, what daddy don’t know won’t hurt him.
We went back down the hill and got back onto State Street. Dixie was feeding me directions “Go to the Checker auto parts store on 45th and State Street.”
I did as she said and headed south on State Street. The trip to Checker was fun, we sang along with Cheap Trick. She had a beautiful singing voice. “Mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird.” By the chorus we were bouncing the whole car singing, “WE’RE ALL ALRIGHT, WE’RE ALL ALRIGHT!”
I pulled into the parking lot of Checker Auto on 45th South and State Street. There were masses of racers exhibition parked neatly in rows. Some of them looked like they were teams. There would be a group of all white tuners, then there would be a group that was all blue, and all the drivers wore clothes that matched the color of their car. The words ‘street gang’ came to mind. Then I saw a group of tuners that had dragon vinyl’s all over them. Something about their cars seemed so familiar. Then I remembered, Johnny had dragon vinyls all over his Prelude. I looked closer and sure enough, there he was. He and his street racing gang wore wife-beater shirts, to show off their dragon tattoos. The dragons on their arms seemed to jump off their skin in a giant ball of flames that would engulf all it came in contact with. Yeah I know, a little dramatic description, but hey, they were pretty dramatic tattoos.
We parked in the corner and got out of the car. People came crowding. I could hear them talk amongst themselves. They said things like “Who dis sucka” and “Imma smoke him” it made me a little nervous. We weren’t there to race, just to watch… Weren’t we?
I shut my door, out of the crowd came a guy in a black tall T with a large gold money sign on it. He was a fairly large African American guy, he had a big smile on his face. “Whuddduup? Nice duds!” He said as he stuck out his hand. I shook it. He introduced himself “I’m Monroe, but you can call me Money.” It seemed like an odd name, but I went with it.
i like this story a lot…. 
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