It took me about thirty minutes to find a phone, but when I did, I got Joey's dad and told him the situation. He said he'd go by Izzy's pick up the wrecker and meet me in twenty minutes or so.

To kill time, I started doing push-ups until he got there.

Joey's dad is the coolest parent I had ever met and to this day I think of him as a role model. He was a very strong man who, in 52 years of life, had accomplished quite a bit. He had been a Captain in the U.S Army and the leader of a Special Forces A team. He did three tours in Viet Nam. On the last tour things somehow changed for him. He resigned his commission and came home. Things weren't the same in the U.S. as when he'd left, so he decided to travel. He spent five years going around the world. Finally he decided to come home and surprise his parents for Christmas. While he was home he met Joey's mom. He fell in love with her the minute he saw her, but it took a couple of years to convince her to marry him. While he was trying to win her heart he needed to make a living, so he became a San Rafael police officer and had risen through the ranks to become a Lieutenant.

You might think it odd that Joey's dad was a police lieutenant and here we were out hot rodding around, but other than that, we were pretty straight kids. We didn't do drugs of any kind, we seldom drank, and when we did, we didn't drive. Besides, Joey's dad was born in the æ50's and he grew up around cars, and to this day he races around in his blown Ford 429 Hemy-powered deuce.

I jumped in the wrecker, "What's up Mr. Severini?"

"Not much you little punk. I just got back from taking the ol' lady out to dinner."

Mario J. Severini called every teenager he caught breaking the law a punk. And since he knew that we had probably been up to no good, this was his way of letting me know that he knew, what we had been doing.

"So, what's the problem?"

"Oh, the engine froze or something."

"Oh yeah. Right out here in the middle of nowhere? Right in the middle of the only straight spot in China Camp?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, more like too much nitrous."

"Yeah."

" I may have been born yesterday, but it wasn't last night." We both started laughing.

When we got to the car Joey was sitting on the fender singing, "Glory Glory Hallelujah."

We hooked up the car and towed it back to San Rafael and into Izzy's shop. Izzy's was only two blocks from my house so I walked home. I wanted some time alone to think about the girl I had seen at Montecito and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't start thinking now. As it turned out I didn't sleep anyway.

Since I couldn't sleep I decided to go running early. I ran under the freeway overpass until I got to Dominican College. They have a wonderful campus with large eucalyptus trees hanging down over the winding roads.

Here there is an isolated dead end street that we would come to at lunch time during the school year. After drinking our sodas we'd set the empty cans up on some large boulders and threw rocks at them. When this got boring I would bring out my Ruger 10-22 Rifle and shoot the cans with .22 buck shot. .22 buck shot is perfect because its subsonic and doesn't make a lot of noise. We had some real good times here.

Every few yards, on the side of the jogging path there are some city installed exercising equipment, pull up bars, etc. So I'd stop and do a couple hundred pull-ups. Then at the next station I would do a couple hundred incline sit-ups and so on. It's a pretty good work out. After that, I started home.

As I was nearing home the sun began to rise. Besides sunset this is the most beautiful time of day. In movie making it's referred to as the golden hour because everything has a certain golden glow.

I came into our yard through the side gate. My mom was there quietly clipping fresh roses for the kitchen and humming some indistinguishable tune. My mother was full-blooded Italian and, because of the way she dressed, the whole garden scene could have been transported to Italy without anything being out of place.

I started to walk quietly toward the back porch in order not to disturb her moment, but before I reached the stairs she said, "Come here Dalton and give your mother a kiss."

I love my mother very much and I thought she looked gorgeous in her own motherly way. I kissed her on the cheek.

"You were up early this morning and came in late last night."

"Yes Mom. I'm sorry if you were worried."

"That's O.K. You were just being a son and I a mother."

"Did Dad hear me come in?"

"I think so, but he would deny it."

"Mom, why do you love Dad so much? He's such a jerk all the time."

"That's just his way of caring, Dalton. If he didn't love you he wouldn't care if you went to college or just threw your life away."

"Do you think I'm throwing my life away?"

"No, I think no matter what you do, whether you go to college or not, you will be successful."

"Why are you so confident? I mean, sometimes I wonder if I will become anything."

"At seventeen years old you already possess many things most adults never have. You work hard at school and kickboxing. You enjoy every minute of life you can and you're not afraid to fail. Remember, a little education and a lot of persistence will take you a long way."

"Thanks, Mom." I hugged her real tight.

"Well, now you're all sweaty. Go in the house and get washed up and I'll make you a nice breakfast."

Last night I told Joey I'd meet him at Izzy's before 9:00 am. I walked through the office and no one was there so I went around to the back. Izzy and Joey were talking about the Mustang.

"Oh, there he is," said Izzy, referring to me.

Izzy's dog Eyebrows came up and sniffed my fingers and then put his head under my hand to get a pat. Eyebrows was quite a dog. He was half Rotweiler and half Bull Massive, which made him one big dog. His face was mostly black except for two brown patches over his eyes that looked like eyebrows.

"Come on over here, Dalton. We were just discussing what to do with your car. Eyebrows, go get me a beer." Eyebrows took off running.

I looked at the æstang. It looked terrible last night and even worse this morning. The whole engine compartment was black and there was oil all over the windshield. Of course pieces of undercarriage were hanging down to the ground, too.

Eyebrows ran up, clenching a beer can in his mouth, being careful not to puncture it. Izzy took the beer and opened it with a pop. Eyebrows ran off again, this time returning with his water dish. Izzy poured half of his beer in the dish and Eyebrows began to lick it up.

"Did you ever try training him to get sodas, Izzy?" asked Joey.

"No, he doesn't like the taste of soda and the caffeine interferes with his naps. Now that you're both here, I have something to show you."

Izzy took us through the long rows of junk cars stacked three high on either side of us. Back in the far corner of the lot stood a large corrugated metal shop where Izzy kept his private projects, most notably a 1956 Ford pick up, powered by a 428 Cobra jet and sporting a Weber multi-carb set up. But when he opened the large sliding door there was an old wrecked car. It took my eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the light and my brain a few more seconds to realize what I was looking at.

Joey was the first to speak, "It's a 1967 Shelby GT-500."

"Its no ordinary Shelby," said Izzy. "Although an ordinary GT-500 is pretty sweet, this car has a race history of some kind. I haven't been able to fully document it."

"Where did it come from?" I asked.

"I picked it up yesterday. Some old lady from Fairfax called me and wanted to know if I could tow a car. I guess her husband died and she wanted to get rid of it."

"Wow, it sure took a beating." Joey was referring to the passengers side door and roof, where it looked like the car had been wrapped around a tree.

"Yes, I admit the body is pretty bad, but look under the hood."

I lifted the original fiberglass hood. A 427 side oiler high-riser stared back at me under a special air-cleaner similar to a Cobra's. It was designed to let only cold air enter through the hood and into the 2-4 barrel carburetors.

"That's pretty nice Izzy. Are you going to restore her?"

"Wait, that's not all. Look in the trunk."

The trunk was also fiberglass and had a special Shelby spoiler with the words "Shelby" in the left hand corner. The trunk was full of brand new, never opened, interior parts for a deluxe 1967 Mustang Shelby. I handed Joey the parts as I pulled them out of the trunk.

"This is great. Everything you need for a full interior restoration."

There was something else in the trunk that was cool. A large forty-gallon fuel tank, like the ones you see on a 1965 GT-350 R model. Also the battery had been relocated to the trunk in order to better distribute the weight. The interior had a full roll cage and it even extended back into the trunk.

"This is a bitchin' find." I told Izzy. "It reminds me of the cars you see in Mustang and Fords: "Brought back from Mexico where it was used as a dog house. Now fully restored and worth half a million."

"No, no, no. This car is for you guys. You see, by itself it isn't much because of the extreme body damage and rust. But you have a perfectly good fastback body. With this frame and engine, along with the fiberglass and race components, you could have an awesome car."

"The interior pieces, too?" asked Joey.

"Yes, it's all for you guys to make the baddest street Mustang ever."

"That's great Izzy. But neither Joey nor I can afford the car. Everything we have went up in smoke last night, plus neither of us have gotten a summer job yet."

"Well that brings me to the favor I need from you guys. You guys know where the Marin County Speed Shop is, right?"

"Of course we do, Izzy. We've spent our life savings there."

"Well the owner, Alastair McKee, and I go way back. Yesterday he came to me and asked if I knew any qualified people to work the counter for him this summer. So I said I did, and I gave him your names and told him you'd come in today for an interview."

"That's it? That's the favor?"

"Look, I want you guys to put on your Sunday's best and go in there and wow this guy. You two are the best young car nuts I know, and I want you to make me proud. Also I want you guys to have this car. You can work on it right here as a thank you for all the things you have done for me."

"We accept Izzy, and we won't let you down."

"Good, now go down to the speed shop and I'll let him know you're coming."

We took off running, both of us excited beyond belief. I swear that as I turned I saw a tear on Izzy's cheek.

We had always been like his family and we would make him proud. We really would.

Both Joey and I went home and put on our suits. We met in front of Marin Speed Shop.

"Lookin' good Joey, my man."

"Not too bad yourself there, Mr. Reeve."

We walked in and asked the woman at the counter if Mr. Mckee was in.

"Oh sure, my name is Saleen, and Mr. Mckee's office is through those doors."

"Thank you Saleen and by the way, I really like that name."

Joey and I went in back and knocked on Mr.Mckee's opened office door.

"Come on in, Dalton and Joey. Have a seat, I was just finishing up some paper work and I'll be with you in a moment."

During the silence I looked around the office. It was neat and orderly. The walls were covered with momentos of Alastair Mckee's years as a crew chief, both of Nascar and Formula I. There were also trophies from his own race car driving days back in the early sixties. All in all, a very impressive collection of stuff.

Mr. Mckee looked up from what he was doing.

"So, Izzy tells me you guys are the best in town? I've seen you both in here before. Now if I remember right, you're Dalton." He looked at me. " And you're Joey." He looked at Joey. " Now, my business philosophy is pretty simple. Keep the customers happy and they'll come back. Be honest and straight forward and most of all, I like to keep communication open between me and my employees, so I have an open door policy.

We reported to work the next day at 8:00 am. Saleen turned out to be real nice. She managed the parts counter and was in charge of us. Alastair Mckee was semi-retired so he had promoted a man by the name of Norton Finway as his senior manager. I didn't like Norton much and I don't think he liked me or Joey much either. Saleen, on the other hand, was great. She treated us with respect and was generally nice. She also really knew her stuff. She was a drag racer herself and she owned a pink pro-street 1968 Camaro that she raced in the low nines. She was saving her money so that she could get her top fuel license and race professionally.

That night after work we started working on our Mustang. We started out by stripping the car of all its parts. We used Izzy's power tools and we were actually ready to bead blast the stripped body the next day.

The summer went quickly and so did the Mustang project. We stayed up all night, to buff the last coat of paint out, before school started.

We both had a great summer and we were sorry that it was coming to an end, but we were looking forward to our senior year and seeing the surprised look on everyone's' faces when we drove up in the now awesome æstang.