Street Racin’

Did you hear what happened yesterday? Two guys were street racing off campus. In the middle of the day! Luckily no one got hurt or arrested.

It all started in the parking lot at the university. It was the big lot on the north side, closest to the freeway on-ramp. Both guys are undergrads. They should know better than to street race. Cops are really cracking down. Seemed a little crazy too, a Corvette Stingray racing a Volkswagen Beetle.

It was the mouthy guy in the Corvette that started it all. Everyone on campus knows that bright orange Corvette. What a noise. It’s a lot of car for such a pint-sized driver. Harry is his name. He majors in marketing communications. He's always talking. Always trying to convince somebody of something. He was on his way to the parking lot, bragging as usual, to everyone who could hear, about how fast he goes in his ‘vette.

“No one can beat me,” he declared.

Just as he said it, this guy Tom walked by. Tall, really cute.

“I’ll take that challenge,” he said as he turned and looked Harry straight in the eyes.

“What are you driving?” Harry asked.

Tom pointed. “That blue Volkswagen over there. The Beetle.”

Harry laughed out loud. What was this bozo thinking? There was no way a Volkswagen could outrun a Corvette.

“Okay,” Harry said, “if you think you can beat me and want to waste your time trying, then let’s go.”

Somebody spoke up. “Why not race to Weber’s on Highway 11? It’s a half hour drive but we can go for burgers. First one there takes a selfie in front of the giant clock and posts it on Instagram.”

Suggesting Weber’s was a great idea. It has that huge “it’s-always-time-for-a-burger” clock as a landmark and they make the best vegan burger.

“I’ll start you off,” cried a girl from my American film studies class. “You line up your cars and I’ll signal when to go. Just like in the movies.”

Next thing you know, Harry and Tom are in their cars, idling several yards away from the Natalie Wood wannabe. Harry revved the engine of the Corvette like he always does, making it growl and spit like a hungry lion. Tom was quiet, just waiting, his car chugging like a farting truck. A bright pink scarf waved in the air and then dropped as starter girl shouted “go!”

Both Tom and Harry had a clean and fast start, getting out of the parking lot without alerting campus security. We quickly followed, an impromptu group car-pooling in a Honda and a Subaru SUV.

Harry raced through the first intersection just as the light turned red. He roared onto the freeway leaving everyone thinking that, unless he crashed his car, he’d easily lead and win the race. While he sped off, Tom and the rest of us were stopped at the red light. But instead of waiting for a green light Tom turned right onto Walkers Line. Sure, in a few miles it turned into a country road with higher speed limits but, still, not the best place to catch up. Out of curiosity, the guys in the Honda took the turn and followed him.

We were all rooting for Tom. The underdog. Someone had seen him play varsity basketball and thought he was studying mechanical engineering. Maybe we’d get to know him better when the race was over. He seemed like a nice guy. And smart. Too smart to fall for Harry’s taunts. But he did. And so did we.

We got on the freeway in time to see Harry drive wild and fast, weaving in and out of traffic, steering around the slowpokes clogging the passing lane as if they were moving chicanes. We could barely keep eyes on him. He was way ahead of us. Soon he disappeared.

Tom was pretty much out of sight too. Honda guys said they did their best to keep up, occasionally seeing Tom pull away after stopping at one of the few intersections. Tom told us later he enjoyed the scenic route along Walkers Line. There was no traffic. He tested his car’s performance for the first time since he and his dad finished rebuilding it. He knew every inch of the car’s engine and was anxious to see what it could do. In top gear at top speed the rolling countryside went by in a blur.

When we got to Weber’s there was no Corvette. We were surprised to see the Beetle parked out front and Tom waving to us from inside the restaurant. We chattered and scurried inside like squirrels. Just as we slid into the window booth with Tom someone outside knocked on the window pane. It was the Honda guys. They had pulled into the parking lot behind us and were soon occupying the booth next to us.

“Hey, I wonder where Harry is,” I said.

“He’s not coming,” said the Honda driver. “We saw him turn around and head back to the city.”

“What?”

Again we were all talking at once.

“Ya,” said Honda driver. “We were trailing Tom on Walkers Line. We saw Harry pull out of the gas station at County Line 25. He chased after Tom but I guess he couldn’t catch him. It wasn’t long before Harry passed us driving south on Walkers Line, back to the city, or somewhere other than Weber’s.”

“I couldn’t believe it,” said one of the Honda passengers. “There were times Tom was like Hans Solo in the Millennium Falcon hitting hyperspace.” He turned to speak directly to Tom. “Man, I don’t know how you did it. Where did you get the speed?”

Tom was laughing hard and loud. “Let’s eat,” he said, catching his breath. “And I’ll tell you my secret.”

During the next two hours we all got better acquainted, learned each other’s names, and what courses we were taking, all while eating the best burgers ever. It was true, Tom was studying mechanical engineering. His father was a master auto mechanic and together they spent nearly a year rebuilding the Beetle.

Tom gave his dad all the credit for creating his powerful little car. But I could tell it was Tom’s quiet confidence in a job well done and his ability to go slow and steady despite the hype of an aggressive opponent that enabled him to win the race. He was focused. Very focused.

Soon Tom was the first to get up from the table. I could of sat and listened to him talk for hours only he was done. He said his mission was accomplished and he thanked everyone for following along. He knew us now and hoped to cross paths on campus. Within seconds he was out the door, in his car, and on the road again. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his dad. Putting a Porsche engine in his VW Beetle hadn’t been such a crazy idea after all.