He loved driving at night with little to no traffic to worry about, especially on this long arrow straight 6 lane boulevard, his favorite stretch of road in all of Kansas City. Waiting for the stoplight to turn green, Arthur smiled to himself.
His Mistress's e-mail said to be at Her home precisely at 7PM and that he was to bring only one perfect red rose this time for Her to enjoy. His hand touched the box where the flower lay carefully wrapped with thin crinkled white florist paper to help preserve and maintain it's intended beauty. She especially like red roses. He blushed, remembering how She often gauged the color of his discipline with the shade of the red roses he brought for Her when allowed to visit, as he was this very evening.
Listening to the silence of the night Arthur heard the pitch of tuned exhaust grow louder behind him. Looking in his rear view mirror he saw the lipstick red Supra slow then stop next to him. Calmly looking to his left, Arthur tried to peer into the blacked out passenger window of the turbo car but only saw the reflection of his warmed over black C5 Vette instead of who might be inside. The traffic was quickly passing in front of them as he rolled down his window to calculate and listen, trying to detect if the Supra was another wannabe stocker or if modified to perform and surpass the obvious appearance updates of it's oversized OZ wheels and Nitto tires.
Arthur listened to the twin ash cans rumble, the twin high lift cams obviously tuned for more than just the mundane travels from point A to point B. Smiling to himself his right foot slowly moved downward then blipping the throttle three times, challenging whomever the driver was behind the dark glass of the car sitting next to him. The adrenaline rush began, slowly growing, building, pumping wildly throughout his body. Slipping the shifter into first, he waited. His heartbeat growing louder and louder in his ears. His hand on the shifter perfectly poised. His left foot planted firmly on his clutch pedal, ready to instantly release. Arthur could see the opposite direction signal shield turn yellow then red. He knew the arrows for right turn then left turn was next. He had been been here before many times, learning the sequence of the signal light while finding this particular intersection was favored by others who enjoyed a challenging circumstance or two.
Suddenly he remembered Her words to quit acting like a teenager and to NOT race again but, how he loved this heat of the moment rush while quickly locking away Her warning to try to observe the next time, not today. Besides how would She ever know, he thought. She couldn't control every little passion in his life, especially his need for speed now could She, he rationalized to himself? He loved street racing at night, especially when there was something worthy to challenge.
Looking straight ahead, left hand positioned at eleven-o-clock, gripping the leather wrapped steering wheel, right hand at ready to pull and push hard through the gears, tach rising, testing the engines tuned perfection to launch at his Vettes sweet spot where traction is perfect and spin is minimal. All was at ready he thought, his smile quickly replaced with intense determination, lowering the RPM to idle again.
The left turn arrow was finally glowing as traffic crossed in front of them. Blipping his throttle again three times, the challenge was finally understood then accepted as he heard the Supras RPM quickly rise then fall. He had never raced a twin Turbo Supra before but from what he read and observed in the past, with a good driver this just might be an interesting race. Arthur smiled as he looked at the Supra. He saw through the corner of his left eye the reflection of the left traffic signal on it's fender when it turned from green to yellow then to red.
He always did his homework. He knew it was exactly fifteen seconds for the signal to turn from yellow to red followed by five seconds of waiting before his lanes signal would turn green. Positioning his hips back further into the bucket seat Arthur pushed it's electric switch forward, moving the seat just a few inches forward, feeling the shoulder belt tightening on his chest giving him better control instead of simple comfort. He waited, ready to row the shifter as his eyes looked for Cops and approaching traffic in their lane ahead or behind that would nix this race. All was clear. The rush hour traffic had dispensed hours ago. They were completely alone for more than five blocks in both directions. How he loved this little wait. How he enjoyed this little match of being a part of the machine, the balance within the challenge of a good race with the perfection of controlling how well his Corvette performs.
For a second he listened to the little voice in his mind whispering, "don't do this Arthur," but the words were soon overwhelmed by the rising RPM of the Supra. Just one more race he thought, just one more, now bringing the Vettes RPM to 3200, knowing from past races no wasted tire slip was key to a C5's successful launch. Adrenaline charged his body towards greater intensity to win.
And the light turned green.
Dumping the clutch, feeling the Vette catapult forward, the needle on the tach suddenly at 7000 RPM, perfectly timing the clutch while yanking the shifter back into second gear, a slight sideway motion of his car as the tires hooked, right foot firmly on the floor, hand steering the wheels to the left, centering car to the middle of the lane. Looking out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw the Supra hanging with him, almost as if they had never moved from the intersection. Grinding his teeth with determination the tach was again at 7000 RPM, shoving the shifter into third gear, feeling the tires spin then suddenly grip the road. The left fender of the red Supra slowly moving backwards before shifting into third, then inching slightly forward to stay in the race. The Corvette speedometer needle read 100 MPH and climbing as Arthur yanked the shifter into fourth, slowly pulling ahead a fender length then quickly loosing sight of the Supra when suddenly... as if time had stopped the Supras tail lights were in front of him, twin yellowish blue flames from it's exhaust announcing the greater power effected from the spent nitrous fumes exiting the huge tips. Arthur's thumb pushed the button on his shifter, feeling the force of 150 extra horsepower slamming him back further into the seat, holding on, trying to adjust the sudden sideways slippage of the the Vette to stay in the center of his lane, quickly spanking the insolence of the unknown driver beside him again.
Tunnel vision overwhelmed his senses as his eyes saw the green stoplight ahead slowly blink to yellow. Frantically he remembered how the lights timing was different than where they started only 10 seconds before but the Supra wouldn't let up, was still next to him. It now was more a game of chicken, who would let up first, who would be first to accept defeat than a street race.
Closer the intersection came towards them. Was her 100% sure that the yellow light changed to red in thirteen seconds, or was it only ten? Accept the loss Arthur his little voice screamed in his mind before it's too late, his thumb quivered on the nitrous button and right foot tingling in unison with his undeciveness to quit or to continue. Still edging past the Supra Arthur let off of the NOX button and the accelerator, watching the lipstick red car pass, it's twin ashcans thundering, almost with a roar of envisioned laughter at his defeat.
Downshifting and again another downshift while quickly balancing the RPM and brakes while quickly slowing his speed from over 130 MPH to a more urban speed. Arthur watched the light turn red a full two seconds before the Supra completed passing through the intersection. Slowing to a stop he sat there motionless, inhaling the sweetly acrid mixture of spent nitrous and gasoline, listening to the Vettes exhaust idling normally while also waiting for his heart to also become normal again. Breathing a deep sigh Arthur wondered if he should have kept racing or if accepting his loss as his just rewards for going against his Mistresses words. The Supra was more than two blocks away then it turned left, completely out of his sight, it's exhaust pitch winding higher with forward motion then soon quieted into the dark night. His head pounded from the effects of the adrenaline rush slowly dissipating.
Arthur slid the seat back a few inches and tried to relax. Turning the radio on he punched up the oldies station where the DJ's "rocked" and music was filled with the "old stacks of wax" recordings of popular artists from his youth. "I could have won," he said out loud to himself, pounding his left hand into the steering wheels leather. Dead Mans Curve was playing loudly through the bose speakers. Somehow tonight's race related to that old cut. There could have been innocent people hurt tonight. It could have ended differently if he pushed the Vette harder. He might have won the race but could have lost if something terrible might have happened in the intersection. That little voice in his mind was right and he was wrong. He knew that he had to tell his Mistress that he broke his promise to Her. He knew She would be very disappointed with him but prayed that She would somehow forgive his error.