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Priest is still cursing under his breath when I finally voice my opinion. “Yes, it’s a shitastic car. But not everybody can drive my beauty.”
My baby.
My true love.
Something no other object, person or place could ever replace in my heart.
Especially not a woman.
Because I’m not an idiot like three members of the Inferno have recently proven to be.
So who is my beauty?
I’m glad you asked.
She’s a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle 454 LS6. A car that is coveted in the classic muscle car community and was an absolute beast at the time she was first manufactured.
For the past year, I lovingly restored my beauty to the mint condition she is in today while adding a few modern details that make riding her that much more enjoyable.
Factory equipped with a 454 cubic inch, 7.4-liter V8 engine, my beauty had 450 horsepower, 500 pounds of torque per foot and went from 0 to 60 in roughly 6 seconds or a quarter of a mile in 13.7 seconds when she was first built.
To that, I added a performance kit and free flow exhaust, thus boosting her horsepower and speed which now easily tops the 120 miles per hour max of the speedometer that sits front and center within the other gauges of her instrument panel.
My beauty has a 4-speed manual Muncie rockcrusher transmission and a 4.10 geared, 12 bolt, Positraction rear-end, making her an absolute dream ride for speed enthusiasts such as myself.
Her original vinyl bench seat was swapped out for two black leather bucket seats, each equipped with 4 point racing belts, her exterior painted black with a white racing stripe down the center, her interior and exterior embellished with chrome details that glimmer beneath the sun.
In a word, she’s perfect.
And she’s all mine.
Where you can simply tap the gas and already be topping a hundred in my beauty, Brinley’s car can only think about going, even when the pedal is crushed to the floor.
“Did you want some alone time with your hand and some lube? Answer my fucking question, asshole, and stop thinking about your car.”
Snapped out of my thoughts by Priest’s gruff voice, I shoot a glance his direction and smile.
“How’d you know I was thinking about my car?”
“Because you get that spaced out look in your eyes every time you mention it.”
I laugh.
“Well, in that case, got any tissues or used socks I can borrow to go with that lube?”
Snatching a small adjustable wrench from the top of his desk, Priest throws it at me with enough force that I’m barely able to dodge the tool. It hits the drywall by my head with an audible thud, leaving a small hole before dropping to the backrest of the couch.
“Answer the fucking question.”
“What question?” I ask in return, laughter shaking my shoulders when I toss the wrench back at him.
He catches it mid-air.
“Of course, you didn’t fucking hear me. What do you want me to do after disabling her car for you? Sit around with my thumb up my ass while awaiting further instructions? Or am I allowed to leave? I got better shit to do with my time than help you abduct some random woman.”
“She’s not random,” I correct him, still refusing to give him more information than that about Brinley.
At least for now.
