I was looking forward to the usual hot, dry, and long California summer, and the last day of my Junior year in high school. The day started out like any other though, and it's little wonder I didn't recognize it as the single greatest turning point in my life.

Joey Severini pulled into the driveway in his 1967 Mustang Fastback. The car was a dull white with some pretty healthy scratches, but the engine was a pumped and stroked 289. The engine is really all Joey and I cared about. See, we get our thrills on Friday and Saturday nights drag racing. We made a little money at it too.

Joey always picked me up before school because I didn't have a car of my own. I kept meaning to buy an old pick up or something, but every time I had a little money, I would have to loan it to Joey to keep our drag habit going.

I opened the door and got in. The door was hung nice and straight. That's a good quality in an old Mustang. A lot of times the doors sag as they get older because they're so heavy.

"Hey dude, how's it hangin'? "

"It ain't hangin' buddy, its draggin'."

We always used to joke like that, like we were surfer dudes or something.

"Oh man, I'm glad it's over."

"Yeah, me too. Its been a long year, and now we're going to be Seniors."

"You going to take auto shop again next year?"

"Who cares, that's a world away."

"Well I thought you should, because you didn't learn anything the last three years."

"Oh, burn me."

"Well, damn, you didn't even notice."

"Notice what?"

"The Dart II aluminum heads came in last night, and I spent all night putting them on."

"You didn't call me!"

"No, I knew you'd be studying like a good little boy."

"So when are we going to blow it out?"

"Well, tonight's as good a time as any."

"Hell yeah! Let's go hunting."

The rest of the day was boring. Yearbook signing and so on. Same old sappy stuff.

After school, I did everything to make sure my dad would stay off my case. I took out the trash, straightened up my room, and reported for dinner with clean hands and a fresh set of clothes.

My dad is ex-Army and just a plain mean old bastard anyway, so I just tried everything to avoid a fight. But no matter how hard I tried he always started rippin' into me.

"So boy, what college are you going to?"

To be honest, I really didn't want to go to college, but this is something very important to my Dad, since he never went.

"I don't know. I was kind of thinking of College of Marin, then maybe Berkeley."

"I hear they have a good engineering program." Mom chimed in.

"What! Bezerkley!" said my dad, nearly shouting. "You need to go to a football school like UCLA or maybe Stanford. Hell, your grades aren't half bad and you got some serious football talent. Dalton, this is your last year and I want to see you enroll A.S.A.P., comprende?"

"Yes, Dad." I replied, knowing full well I didn't give a damn about college. In fact, I wanted to be a professional kickboxer, as strange as that may sound. I know it sounds childish, but I want to travel, see the world, and fight real people for lots of money. My dad doesn't even know because I know he would just get mad. In the meantime, I workout every morning for three hours and visit my Sensei's Dojo three times a week. But anyway, back to realityà

My mom was always nice and helpful. She chimed in, "Oh honey, Stanford would be so nice. I think you have a good chance to get in," she added.

"Well as it stands, I have the whole summer to think about it."

I had three hours after dinner until Joey came to pick me up, so I stretched out, and then did a thousand pushups in sets of 100, and then a thousand sit-ups in sets of 200. When I was done with that, I ran a two mile road course with a couple of wind sprints up Bret Harte Road. Bret Harte is super steep and I found it helped my 100 yard speed tremendously to run up the hill as fast as I could. Sometimes I would run backwards as well. This works an entirely different set of muscles and helps me with my dexterity. When I got done, I showered and changed into a pair of jeans with the legs pegged and a Ford Motorsport T-shirt. Then I sat down on my bed with the latest Hot Rod magazine and waited for Joey.

Joey was late because he did some last minute tuning, but we got on the road about 9:30, or 2130, as my dad would say.

"So what's the deal?" I said.

"Well, there's a party over at Darby's house in Terra Linda. I thought we would go there and see what's up. Then, go through China Camp to the Barn. From there we'll go on to hit Montecito and cruise 4^th street."

"Cool! Lets go."

Darby's house was a typical 50's style ranch home in a neighborhood where all the homes looked the same. Her parents had done some nice improvements though, like landscaping and a pool. As we pulled up there were at least ten cars in front of her house. They were obviously teenagers' cars, with Simon's hot rod 1965 Ford sticking out like a sore thumb because of its Gumby green color. This was a parents' sanctioned party because there was no way you could throw a party in a neighborhood like this without their parents finding out. We parked near an oleander bush a block away and walked towards the party. In the driveway we could hear the sound of AC/DC blasting.

There were some sophomores standing on the front steps as we made our way in. There were about 15 people sitting and standing around, but most people were out by the pool. We walked out there, said a few "Hi's," then went to the keg. Joey was going to get a beer, but I stopped him.

"We're here to race, remember? We can party later."

"Yeah, you're right. I saw Simon's truck out there. You go check it out. I'll see if I can find him."

Just then, Darby came up and hugged both of us. She was pretty drunk. "Hey you guys! Good to see you. That's five dollars please."

"We're not here to drink, Darby. In fact, after we find Simon, we're on our way."

"Oh, don't go. I'll miss you."

"We may come back later, then."

"O.K." Then she was on to the next group of people like we had never been there.

I went out to look at Simon's truck to see if we could take it on. It was far from a stock æ65 Ford pick up. In fact, I already knew it had Boss 302 under the hood. But I was looking for anything new that might make his truck faster than our æstang. The hood was locked so I slid under the bottom, which was tough because the thing was so low. The first thing that caught my eye was a braided fuel line coming from the bed and going along the frame, up into the engine bay. This was a nitrous line. Nitrous is a very potent gas injected into the carburetor in a fine mist. It causes the gas to burn hotter, thus creating more horsepower. Also, I noticed an electric fuel pump. This meant more fuel, and again more horsepower. Finally, there was a locking mechanism on the front brakes, enabling him to spin the back tires at will, and then release them at the proper R.P.M., thus making a faster start possible.

I returned to the party with this intelligence, carefully avoiding a heaving Sophomore near the front door. Joey had already cornered Simon in the kitchen.

"What do you say Simon, let's take a ride out to the barn and see whatcha got."

Simon, thinking that he could waste us, was smiling. "Sure Joey. But let's make it 100 big ones. I'm not into charity racing," referring to the twenty dollars we usually race for here in Marin.

Joey looked at me, kind of worried. I just nodded and smiled. That meant, "Yes, I thought we could beat him, and yes, I had the 100 bucks."

The barn is actually part of what I believe was an old brick factory, maybe back in the æ20's. What is strange about the barn is that it is located near Peacock Gap, an expensive neighborhood and golf course, yet it is still somewhat isolated. At some point a developer built an immensely wide road out to the barn and around it, like a horseshoe. But the developer never finished, giving us a great party place. We had keggers in the barn with wood pallet bonfires and the long wide road was beautiful for drag racing.

We followed Simon to the end of the road before it started to curve around the barn, then turned around. There was a crude chalk line there in the road that someone had drawn. I jumped out with the flashlight and lined the cars up. I stopped them when they were both even with the line.

As I raised the flashlight, they both put on their brake locks and the tires started to smoke. I smiled as I brought the flashlight down as fast as I could.

Both vehicles came off the line within a hundredth of a second. As they pulled by me I held my breath so I wouldn't breath in the heavy smoke of the tires and exhaust. The two racers were in a dead heat until about the halfway point, when our second stage nitrous system kicked in. The Mustang surged ahead, blasting the truck at the end of the three-quarter mile.

I was actually amazed that the truck had driven so fast.

What a beautiful night. The moon was full, the sky clear, the temperature was a perfect 75 degrees and we were a hundred dollars richer. Or so I thought. The Mustang came back with the truck trailing behind.

Joey jumped out. "Man! Did you see that? Bam! I was gone. Everything worked out great."

"Yeah. Those new heads really opened the engine up." Beating a BOSS 302 was no small accomplishment.

Simon walked up, looking kind of sheepish.

"Not bad eh, Simon?"

"No, not bad at all. You guys tore my doors off! But there's a slight problem concerning the money."

"What do you mean?" asked Joey, looking rather mad.

"Yeah?" I said, "If you don't have the money, I'll have to take it out of your flesh."

This was really only a threat. I don't like to hurt people, but most people around town know I'm a good kick boxer, and that if I wanted to, I could make good on my promise.

"Wait! Now hold on a second. It's in the bank down on 4th street. I just have to go get it."

"You're talking ATM, I hope," said Joey. "It's nearly 10:30."

"Yeah, I got a card."

"OK then, let's go. I'll ride with you. Joey can follow us in the car."

We left Peacock Gap and followed the winding road that traces the bay into San Rafael. We had the windows rolled down and the wind felt good on my face.

Simon slipped in a tape of George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers.

The first song was "Bad to the Bone." I had actually seen the video for this song where "Lonesome George" makes some impossibly good pool shots.

As we got to the main part of San Rafael, we started to see a lot of people cruising. A couple of old Corvettes drove by. Then a souped-up Barracuda. We were checking them out as much as they were checking us out.

Simon's pickup was nice, clean and, unusual. It also sounded good, kind of like a bunch of bottles rattling in the exhaust.

I looked back at Joey in the Mustang, and it looked good, too. It has a real good tire/wheel combination, and an aggressive low stance. The G.T. lights in the center of the grill have blue covers to add a custom look. At night is really when the Mustang looks its best because, you can't see how bad the paint job is.

Right in the middle of downtown is a bank, so we parked and Simon got out to use the ATM, then came back with the money.

"I'll take that." I said.

He handed me the money.

"Nice doing business with you," said Joey.

"Sorry I didn't have the money on me, guys. It's just I didn't think that I would lose."

This could be very embarrassing to Simon if it got out that he made a bet without the money actually in his pocket.

"No problem Simon, see you around."

We hopped in the æstang and went around the block, then came back to Fourth Street.

"Lets go down to Montecito and get some pizza."

Montecito is a shopping center across from San Rafael High School. It is also backed by a canal, so we could see sailboat masts behind it as we drove up.

A movie had just gotten out so there were lots of kids hanging around and lots of trick cars to look at as we cruised the parking lot. We parked in front of the pizza place and walked in. Two of the four walls were large sliding windows that allowed the restaurant to have an open air to it. On a warm summer night like tonight all the windows were wide open and the place was packed. Neon beer signs decorated the walls and an old juke box was blasting Chuck Berry's "Johnny Be Good."

I love 50's music and this was a personal favorite of mine. We sat down at one of the long tables that were like those found in a German beer hall. There were two freshmen girls there and Joey started talking to them. They were on the opposite side of the table from me, so I couldn't hear them over the din. I was kind of staring off into space when a two-toned red and white '56 Chevy pulled up, followed by a lifted-to-the-sky brand-new red Blazer.

The doors to the Chevy opened up and a bunch of large football players I knew from Terra Linda got out. They were all proudly sporting their T.L. letterman jackets. The blazer was full of T.L. jocks too, and since the top was off, they jumped over the side, not even bothering to go out the doors. There were some girls with them too.

Like I said, I was spacing out. I was seeing this, but in my head, I was back at the barn, feeling the adrenaline rush as the two dragging cars burned past me. I was picturing each individual frame in slow motion.

Then something caught my eye. Or I should say, someone. She was one of the girls with the T.L. crowd. She was a blonde girl, about 5'5". As she came into the restaurant I was able to see her better and what I saw nearly knocked me over. She had the best body I had seen in a long time. Her clothes were perfect and in style. Plus she had a dark tan and was very athletic looking.

None of this was very unusual for a Marin County girl, but there was something else here, a kind of magic in the way she smiled. There was just this supreme warmth about her. She was beautiful and she knew it, but at the same time, she wasn't stuck up. It was like she knew there was more to life than being pretty.

I sat there in open amazement, my jaw slightly open, for what seemed like an eternity. I always thought love at first sight was a cliché. Something that has never happened to me and never would, but all of a sudden I was a believer. Sure, I had dated girls, but I had never felt like this. I wish I could tell you what happened for the next hour, but I really can't. Suddenly it was closing time and everyone was leaving.

Some things started to come to my attention. One, was that she was spending a lot of time with one boy. And that boy was Dolph, the T.L. star quarterback and owner of the red Blazer. By looking at how they acted towards each other I would say they really weren't intimate, but she was charmed by him.

Dolph felt like he had the ball and an open field ahead of him. I was somewhat saddened by this as Joey and I got into the Mustang to head home.

"Welcome back to Earth, Dalton," said Joey, in his best Dr. McCoy imitation.

"Oh yeah, I'm here."

"I was beginning to wonder there for awhile. What did you think of the two freshmen I was talking to?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course I'm kidding. Their mom came to pick them up because they didn't have a license, much less a car."

"That's too bad."

"So what's the deal? You were acting like you had never seen a girl before."

"She's no girl, she's a goddess."

"She must have been, by the way you were staring at her."

"Was I that bad?"

"Oh yeah. I think everyone noticed but her."

"What about Dolph, did he notice?"

"No, he was pretty captivated as well."

"Good. He won't see me coming."

"Oh boy. A sneak attack, eh?"

"Damn straight!"

We were stopped at a red light when we both looked over and saw the most beautiful 1965 Pontiac GTO.

Now I'm not a big G.M. fan by any stretch of the imagination, but I think the 1965 GTO is about one of the finest cars around. This one was a red hardtop with original wheels and tires. If I had to guess, I would say it was equipped with the 393 Tri- powered big block, and best of all, since it was a '65, it was smog exempt.

The passenger signaled Joey to roll down his window, which he did. There were two young kids about our age in there. The passenger leaned out the window and said, "You wanna race?"

Joey looked over at them and smiled. "Yeah, sure. You from around here?"

"We're from æTam (Mount Tamalpais High School)."

"Well, we don't race downtown. That's just asking to get caught. But if you follow us, we'd be happy to oblige you."

"All right. Let's see what the little æstang can do."

We went around the block and headed back out to Peacock Gap. Joey was somewhat pissed about the "little æstang" comment and you could tell by the way he was driving.

As we got closer to the barn we came up behind two police cars headed in the same direction. When they made the turn towards the barn, we kept going. The police rarely ever went out this far, much less to the barn itself.

We continued on around the winding road that leads to China Camp, once a small Chinese Community on the shore that was later turned into a state park. There is one long straight section in the road just before you get into Terra Linda and that's where we stopped.

The GTO pulled alongside us and the passenger got out. I also got out and came around to the driver's side of the æstang.

I turned to the two Tam guys and said, "O.K., here's the deal. See that stop sign down there?" You could barely make it out in the moonlight. "That's the finish line. The bet's one hundred dollars. You got it on you?"

The passenger pulled out his wallet and showed me a wad of twenties.

"Yeah, we got it. Now, let's go."

"All right. When I turn on this flashlight, it means get ready. When it starts to drop, that means æGo'. Got it?"

The driver gave me a thumbs up.

I stood in the middle of the two cars and raised my hand. Then I turned on the flashlight. Both cars started to burn rubber, but kept their brakes locked.

Quickly I dropped my arm, and the cars took off in a deafening roar. Normally a 393 will waste a 289 out of the gate but because of the nitrous they were in a dead heat. Once again, at the halfway point, the second stage nitrous kicked. But this time something went wrong. Without going into a long explanation of how nitrous works, I'll just say this. If you don't have enough fuel, you'll get an explosion that usually melts the engine down to a useless piece of iron, and that's what happened. There was a loud thunderclap, an orange fireball, and the hood went flying about 10 feet in the air. Joey had such a big lead he might have still won by coasting over the finish line, but the hood went forward and got caught under the car, causing even more damage and brought the æstang to a screeching halt.

The GTO went through the finish line unchallenged.

"How about that hundred bucks?" The kid from Tam said.

I gave it to him. There's no sense in being a poor loser. After all, we did lose.

The driver of the GTO turned around and picked up his friend. Then left in a cloud of tire smoke.

As I was walking to where the Mustang was, I was struck by the peace, quiet, and tranquility, especially after the loud noise from the cars. Now all I could hear were the crickets and frogs singing to each other.

I walked up to the driver side window, expecting to see Joey in tears. Instead, he was laughing almost uncontrollably.

"What gives," I asked.

"Man what an explosion. It almost gave me a heart attack."

I looked at the car. The whole front was caved in, the wheels were bent in, the hood was folded in half and everything north of the firewall was black.

Joey got out of the car, "Hey, let's push this thing out of the road and then you can go call someone to come pick us up."

"Why me?"

"Cause you're in better shape then me. It would take all night for me to walk from here to the stop sign there."

"O.K., let's see, should I call my dad, and watch him go though the roof, then hear a lecture for the rest of the night, followed by me being grounded for the rest of my life? Or, we could call your dad, who would come down here, have a good laugh, pat us on the shoulder and probably even tow the car to Izzy's auto salvage for us. What do you say?"

"Gee, do you think your dad is still awake?"

"Never mind. I'll be back!"