Page 270 of Devil’s Disciples

“Get some Mickey Thompson’s on it, and it’ll probably yank that left tire off the ground when you take off.”

His eyes went wide. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“But, it’ll pass emissions?”

I nodded. “With flying colors.”

While George paced the garage, I spent the next thirty minutes checking connections, re-tightening fasteners, and checking for leaks. After double-checking everything, I climbed from beneath the car, removed my rubber gloves, and tossed them aside.

“Let’s see what she’ll do,” I said.

He extended his hand. “In case I’m too excited to remember when we get back, just want you to know how much I appreciate your help.”

I shook his hand. “Least I could do, considering you’re Abby’s best friend.”

“She sure thinks the world of you,” he said.

“I’d say the feeling’s mutual,” I said. “Can’t imagine life without her in it.”

I walked around the car and got in on the passenger side. He climbed in the driver’s seat and glanced over his shoulder. “You guys go out to eat last night?”

“Had steaks up in Oceanside at a seafood joint,” I responded. “Great ribeye.”

He reached for the key, paused, and then looked at me again. “She have much to say?”

I chuckled at the thought. “She’s always got a lot to say. Non-stop talk out of that girl. One of the things I like about her is that a man never has to worry what she’s thinking. She’ll tell you.”

He grinned a half-assed grin and started the car. When he shifted it into reverse, he grinned. “Love how that cam sounds at an idle. If this son-of-a-bitch could talk, it’d be saying, ‘don’t bother trying to race me, I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’m sure it would.”

He drove slowly until we were at the highway on-ramp. After checking for traffic ahead, he looked at me. “It’s okay to stomp it?”

“Don’t take it above five thousand RPM for five hundred miles. That’s all.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna gun it.”

I knew exactly what the car would feel like. I’d built dozens of high horsepower Ford engines. He, on the other hand, had refused to drive Eleanor, and only had an idea of what he believed the car would feel like. I was anxious to see the look on his face when he saw the car’s true potential.

We were rolling uphill at fifteen or twenty miles an hour. I glanced over my shoulder and made sure no one was behind us. “Don’t be afraid of it,” I said. “Just stomp it all the way to the floor and keep your eye on the tach. Shift at five thousand.”

He clenched his jaw, gripped the shifter knob tightly, and mashed the gas pedal. The car didn’t hesitate to react.

Both back tires gripped firm on the hot Southern California pavement. The engine’s horsepower was converted to energy, and that energy was beyond what I – or George – was ready for.

The car shot forward like a rocket, slamming both of us against the seat backs. In an instant, George shifted gears expertly. After the car slid sideways a few inches, the tires gripped, once again causing the engine’s power to smash us against the seats. After shifting into third gear, he was well over one hundred miles an hour, and not to the highway entrance.

He released the gas pedal.

“Holy shit! That power’s crazier than hell.” He glanced in my direction. “I think you’ve got a gift, Son.”

“Few things I’m good at,” I said with a smile. “Cars is one of them.”

“Yet you’re managing car washes,” he said. “Abby told me that, and I about had a heart attack.”

“It pays the bills.”