Amarillo, TX to Los Angeles - 15 and a half hours. That's how long it took Shawn to drive straight through after his ma kicked him out of the house. She couldn't stand to watch him live life on the edge anymore and have the possibility of him ending up like his father. There was no way in hell she was going to be scraping her youngest son off some wall and having a closed casket funeral and there was no stopping Shawn once he had his mind set on something. She knew that and if you couldn't beat'em, then you looked the other way and let them learn the hard way. She tried for years ever since his accident and if she couldn't do anything about it and the state couldn't do anything about it, then only Shawn himself could. Hell, the state gave him back his licence for crying out loud, like he wouldn't drive drunk again. The only thing he learned after all of that was when to draw the line and stop early enough so that he could drive. It didn't stop him from racing and it sure the hell didn't teach him to slow down even when he wasn't. He was stubborn like his father and there was no changing that. It didn't even change his brother until Seeley had found a good woman and had kids. Maybe that would be the key element for Shawn to change his ways, but that meant finding a good woman, not some hussy at these local races that flaunt themselves all over. His mother use to say she felt like she got a STD just from thinking about it. Shawn always laughed to himself at the phrase, shaking his head as he walked away. It was funny how the older generation never got the newer one. They always downed the way things were looked at from the younger perspective, but that was just how it went. He even caught his brother doing the same with his own two kids, even had to tell his own brother to remember what it was like back when they were kids. The only problem , was that having kids changed Seeley. He was never the same after that, always being the more responsible one, never having any fun anymore. Shawn swore to himself, he was never having kids because he loved the thrill of racing too damn much to give it up for all that. Besides, for what? Changing dirty ass diapers and having some midget me throwing up all over you? Fuck that! He was good right where he was at, and that was presently, free and in L.A., the land of the illegal and underground racing. His new home.

He was just coming down interstate 10 into L.A. when he saw the sign on the side of the highway saying Welcome to Los Angeles. A smile came to his face as he hit the border and crossed into the city limits. The speedometer was hitting 130 as he zigged and zagged through traffic looking for his exit. Maybe he should slow down a bit. He didn't want his first day in L.A. dragging cops behind him, so he slowed it down to around 80 mph until he reached an older 1970, wait no, 1969 Challenger ragtop. He looked at it for a few seconds as the driver seemed like the little old lady from Pasadena. He laughed to himself, down shifted and pressed his foot into the gas to take off like a bat out of hell. The tires squealed as he pulled away leaving the slow poke in his trail of burned rubber until he had to shift back up a gear. That car had so much potential and yet it was wasted on someone who didn't know how to take the leash off. It was sad really.

Lifting his finger up to his bluetooth, he pressed a button for a long hold until his phone automatically dialed a number. "Yo, Jack, it's me. I'm in L.A. now. I should be pulling up to your house in about 20 minutes or so."

"Sounds good, Bro. Just get here in one piece, Aight?"

"No sweat, man. I was bred for this."

Jack was an old marine buddy that he had been friends with for years after their service. When Jack found out that Shawn had been kicked out and wanted a change of pace, he offered his bachelor pad as a place to crash until Shawn could afford his own place.  Jack had always been a good friend and even saved Shawn's ass a few times from the sergeant, mostly because of his mouth. "Hey, we're still going out tonight, right?"

"Hell yeah! I know this one spot where all the fine ass honeys hang out."

"Good cause I need to get some details while I'm there. I'm running low on funds here."

"Why not get a legit job? I may have one that may benefit with your background."[/b]

"I already have a legit job. I transferred here, remember?" he said just as something blew right past him. "Hang on, gotta call ya back." He stated as he pressed the button on the side of his blue tooth to hang up the call.

Jamie felt like a magnet the entire drive from Chicago to L.A. It was as if she'd put a giant window sticker on the rear window with Calvin non-verbally saying 'Piss on state troopers'. Every state, there was at least one following her for miles.... and miles... Was it the car? Not every cop in damn near every state was an old schooler. Maybe it was simply coincidental. Who knows, but it was irritating all the same. Boxes stacked all over the back seat came just to the back window to make sure she was still able to see, but that left them riddling the rest of her car. They took up most of the floor space in both the back and front, and appeared to comfortably make themselves at home on the front passenger seat being that none of them so much as shifted the entire trip. The unfortunate aspect is that boxes? Yeah... they didn't make very good conversationalists.

Though it was hard leaving everything she'd ever called 'home', Jamie was looking forward to the change. She needed it honestly. After her father passed away, nothing looked the same anymore. Not even the shop was comforting. Instead, it was nothing more than a reminder that she'd no longer be working under the hood of a car with the man who'd taught her everything that got her to where she was today. He taught her the basics, then proceeded to work with her along the way instead of doing it for her. His purpose was to give her the physical and metaphorical tools she needed to find her own way of getting the job done.... and getting it done right. Sure he'd help, and give her advice on something if she was having a hard time, but he also knew that everyone has their own way of doing things. Jamie just needed to find hers.

Eventually, she did. Her father just didn't seem to pleased with the way she'd found. Jamie however fell in love with her work after she discovered street racing. She felt like she'd found something where her automotive-creativity could run wild. When she'd finally saved up enough to put the 426-Hemi into her own car, the guy selling it to her thought she was a complete nut-job because she literally squealed excitedly. Actually getting it into the car, turning the key while the starter cranked as she waited with impatient anticipation before her baby fired up and thundered as it reverberated, echoing throughout the entire shop. Not thinking she could ever be more happy than she was at that moment, that all changed when she found that she could mod it to reach up to 600 Horsepower. She wasn't riding a ponies no more. Wild mares ran this baby now and made most, if not damn near all the newer cars of today look like they had a mule under their hood.

Jamie, being a classic rock kind of girl, had a playlist running when Black Betty came on and she began shaking her head and pounding her palms against the steering wheel in time with the beat. Cranking it up, she sang as loud as she could, not really paying much attention to her speed. After all, she'd drove this far and really wasn't in much of a hurry anyways. One thing about Jamie Andrews... she loved driving simply to drive. Driving out into the boonies and getting lost on a cruise was one of her favorite past times. Of course she always found her way back, but there were times when GPS became her best friend.

All of a sudden out of nowhere, the sound of an engine blasted past her, making it's presence known with being louder than her music. Seriously? Who the hell did he think he was, Dale Earnhardt? Well she was about to show him that her car wasn't running on molasses instead of fuel. Watching the RPM's climb, Jamie let her foot off the gas a second to depress the clutch and upshift while adding some throttle. The Challenger quickly picked up speed as her foot then dumped into the gas and she took off like a bat out of hell. Blowing past several cars, she finally spotted on that stuck out from the bunch. That obviously had to be it seeing as the rest that were scattered about were little granny grocery getters and soccer Mom vans. A newer model challenger.... at least he, she, whatever had taste, but the year was all wrong. Soon after, her exhaust gave what Jamie liked to call a 'Vehicular Fuck You'. That should show him what a real car should sound like while it's leaving your ass in it's fumes.

His eyes locked on to the orange ancient challenger as it caught up to him and past him up. "Really?" he said looking down at his speedometer  and seen the needle only creeping above 95 mph.  "Fuck them cops, let's do this!" he said as he drop shifted to fourth for a small boost of power and gunned it. The needle red lined seconds later and he shifted back into fifth, watching the needle climbing a little faster this time around. He wasn't going to let some little old later in her dinosaur pass him up. Not today, and not ever.  His foot hit the pedal and buried it to the floor as the speedometer needle started creeping up to almost 120 MPH. Shawn swayed to the right, using the right lane to pass up this red minivan with kids jumping around in the back seat. His first thought was why they weren't in car seats and strapped down. Second thought was, 'Get the fuck outta my way!' as he passed their slow asses taking up the middle lane. Speedometer now reached 130 mph and he was starting to red line again, but still had a little more time before he had to hit his last gear. That's when he had to slam on the brakes, tires screeching  and leaving black tire marks on the expressway because some dumb ass had just pulled out in front of him to get off at the next exit. Didn't they ever check their mirrors? Didn't they see the big black  monster coming at them? (That's what she said) He slammed on the clutch and dropped down to third gear which was going to kill him if he didn't get the hell around this moron. He slammed the gas down and released the clutch as he cut the wheel to the left and fishtailed from behind the guy. Immediately shifting into fourth and gunning it again as the tires squealed once more in mid drive. 

Shawn weaved in and out of traffic until he finally spotted the orange muscle ride. Apparently they must have seen him almost hit that car and thought they had won, cause they were driving a little slower now. Not in the least. It wasn't over until Shawn said it was over and that wouldn't be until he became the w-i-n-n-e-r. As the needle came to his shift point, he slammed the clutch down again and shifted into fifth as he slammed on the gas and released the clutch simultaneously. The tires squealed again as they slipped a little and gained traction again, this time, he was jamming and the driver of the 69 must have seen him in their rear view , because suddenly, they were keeping the same distance for a brief minute. It was about now that he was getting this feeling that this was no Sunday granny driving. They new when to shift, when to step on the gas, and when to switch lanes, too well to be just your average driver wanna be racer. They still had nearly a 1/4 mile between them and his only advantage was to try and make her second guess him. She'd already underestimated him once, he doubted she'd do it again. They're was only one way he was closing the gap on this one and hoping it would also create some distance to give him a slight edge on the competition. He reached over to the dash and flipped up a small panel which revealed three switches. If this were a movie, the camera would pan back to the three NOS tanks in the trunk. Two for racing and one as a reserve for those WTF just in case moments when he used the other two. Unfortunately, the third one was smaller and he'd never used it because 1) he's never had to worry about that and 2) it was too risky. He could run the risk of blowing up his engine or even car, over heat his block and heads. He'd rather not use it if he didn't have to, but Shawn was known to be a bit crazy enough to do anything to win. He flipped the switch, shifted to his final gear and hit the button on the steering wheel. The car gunned forward, squealing even louder as the tires bit into the pavement and slung him forward like a bullet. Both hands gripped the steering wheel as he looked down to the speedomter and watched it shoot from 120 to 150 mph in only a few seconds. The fastest Shawn had ever gone in anything was about two hundred and although this thing was capable.....well almost capable, of hitting 200 mph, a stock car was much safer he was sure. Although, where was his dad right now?

Shawn caught up to the orange Challenger and only gained just barely a car length in front of her. Being that her windows were tinted, he couldn't see anything as he passed it, but he did try to look in his mirrors through the drivers windshield. He was too far ahead of her and going way to fast to get a solid look at them, but he did catch she was female from the long hair, or at least he thought they were female. "Oh, hell no! A chick?" he complained, "Not today pussy cat."