It was a brisk January night in Northern Los Angeles. Steve Czenski was working another late night at his shop. The car garage had been there for as long as anyone could remember. Steve took over the garage for his father when he was 17, after his death in a fatal car crash at a draft strip. Tonight however, Steve wasn’t working on a customers car, he was putting the final touches on his newest project, a 1996 Nissan Skyline GTR. A couple years ago, Steve imported the car from Japan to the United States. Since the car was a little rough at the time, Steve managed to negotiate a decent price. The first time he drove that car he immediately fell in love. The way it shifted, how the engine would roar as he climbed the RPMs, just the sheer power.

The street race scene had always been huge in LA, and it was almost impossible for Steve not to be drawn to it. Every weekend there was a huge car meet, people from all over Cali would make the trip for the cool cars, racing, and of course, the gambling. Wagers would range from 50 dollars all the way to 50 grand, and of course, pink slips. Steve had seen some made bank, others lose it all. He went every weekend, but had never actually raced himself. Steve wanted to wait until his car was complete and take the other racers by surprise.

Tonight was going to be a long night, Steve had to install the most important modification on the skyline. One of his best friends, Randal, was on his way to the garage to help with the install. Randal or rather, Radar as he was more commonly known (always sat on the police scanners during the races) had been in scene longer than Steve, and knew his was around a car. Steve could hear a loud exhaust in the distance, who knew Radar was close. He walked out to see him pulling up in his honda civic hatch. It didn’t look like much, but Steve had seen it dust supercharged mustangs at the races. Randal hopped out, “What’s up Steve! Haven't seen you since the pigs busted the rally on sunset!” Steve remembered that night, we had been that close to ending up in the back a cop car. He chuckled. “Right? That was too close son, we barely got out of there!”. Radar smiled. “So how about you show me this nissan you’ve been talking about?” “Hold up, let me get the garage door up buddy.”

“Damn son, when you said this was a clean car you weren’t kidding.” remarked Radar as the door went up. “You shoulda seen it when I bought it, some Japanese drift kiddies beat the piss out of it, took me three weeks to get her to this point.” Radar laughed “I can only imagine, how about you pop the hood bro.” “Oh yeah.. of course” said Steve as he sled into the driver’s seat to released the hood latch. Click! Radar reached under the hood and propped it up. Radar inspected the engine bay. “You said on the phone it had 2.6 liter RB26 right? Looks good, how many ponies does she push stock? “With the stock twin turbo, the new catback exhaust and cold air intake, it’s at about 300.” replied Steve as he admired his work. “Not bad..” replied Radar. “So what do you need me for?”

“You have your CPU flasher with you right?” asked Steve with an anxious grin.
‘Yeah why? I’m pretty sure it’s in the hatch.” replied Radar. “I’ve been doing my research on these engines and it turns out that Nissan had to “dumb-down” there power in order to release it to the Japanese public.” “Really? Why would they do that??” said retorted Radar. “Eh, a number of reasons, for one, so fast & furious fanboys wouldn’t kill themselves” said Steve with a chuckle, “also for fuel efficiently reasons.” “So I guess, the real question is.. how much is this bad boy capable of with the right tweaks?” Radar was really interested now. “I’ve got some specs off-line that claim 600+ all wheel horsepower- but before Steve could finish his sentence, Radar had booked it to his car to retrieve the CPU flasher.


That night Steve and Radar stayed up tuning the engine. Most people used a “dyno system” to tune their imports, but unfortunately Steve didn’t have that luxury. In order to tune the engine they listened and adjusted, the old fashion way. “When are expecting this bad boy to be race ready?” asked Radar as he finished polishing a cylinder head. “I really want to go to this weekend bro.. I’m hurting for some cash.” said Steve staring at his car. “What if you lose though?” Steve and Radar just laughed.


The night before the races were scheduled, Steve and Radar took the GTR out on some backroads. Needless to say, the thing absolutely ripped. Steve would barely put his foot down and could feel the car launch him into his seat. Radar smirked and turned to Steve. “I think she’s ready.”


All that day Steve couldn’t concentrate on anything in the shop, all he was thinking about was the races that night. He filled the GTR with the highest octane gas possible, for maximum power. He called up Radar to see what was up. “Yo!” “Sup Steve? ready for tonight?” “Hell yea Radar, it’s all I can think about.. so what time are things poppin’ off tonight?” “I heard around 10 on seventh street.” “Ight, that sounds good. I’ll see ya there.” “One thing before I let you go bro, I heard Marco is suppose to show up tonight..” Macro was a notorious a notorious street racer. A couple months ago, Marco and Steve lined up, Steve had been cocky ended up losing more than the race (his car).


Steve showed up a half hour early to size up the competition. The normal crowd was down there, highschool kids with their boosted civics, middle-aged men with the typical american muscle and so on. The he saw him, Marco. He was rolled up right next to Steve in his 2002 Toyota Supra. The car looked fast, Steve could hear the huge turbo’s blow-off valve. Marco hopped out and approached Steve. “Haven’t seen you around here for awhile Stevie, cute little Skyline you got there.. want me to take that off your hands too?” said Marco with a smirk. That was it, Steve wasn’t going to put up with this. “Whatever you say friend, I’m down to race for pinks. I’ll probably just junk that yota though when I win.” Marco laughed. “Right. How about you pop the hood and see what your running.” Steve had been waiting for him to ask him that. “It’s bonestock man, it’s just the base 2.6 liter, with the factory twins.” he said as he popped the trunk. Marco took a quick glance, and saw that Steve wasn’t lying, no aftermarket parts. “Well, since Stevie here insists.. let’s line up!” exclaimed Marco to the small crowd that was now forming around the two men.


The racers had a go-to drag strip by an abandoned factory outside of the city. The surrounding factory buildings offered privacy, and a perfect line of pavement that stretched a little over a quarter mile. Marco stood on the hood of his car and addressed the crowd. “Whoever wants to see this fool loose his second pair of wheels to me come to the factory!” shouted Marco. Steve just smiled, but he hated how cocky Marco was, he knew he had no choice but to shut him up. Soon an uproar of car exhausts could be heard from a mile away, as the racers departed to rendezvous at the factory.


On the way there Steve could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. It was Radar. “Sup?” “I hope your ready race, the scanners are clear. Everything’s a go Steve, smoke this fool.” Click, Radar hung up without a response. Soon everyone rallied at the factory, it seemed that even more people were there now, now that word had gotten out about the race. Steve felt his stomach drop, all these people were here for him, he knew most expected to see him loose. Radar jumped onto a cement bunker and whistled to get the crowd’s attention. “Alright ladies and gents, before these fine young competitors line up, we’ll take some wagers.” announced Radar, sounding way too official. Chatter immediately broke out, fists clenching green bills filled the air. After the betting had died down, Radar went up to Steve. “What a surprise.. everyone expects Marco to beat you.” Steve just shrugged. “I can’t blame them, he dusted me last time.” “Yea, but it’s a completely different ball game now, plus I got 100 bucks on you buddy.” said Radar as he slapped him on the back and made his way to the starting line.


Steve hopped into his car and drove the starting line. Both racers ripped their e-brake and did a burnout. This gave their tires traction, and a better launch. This had been done so much, the first ten feet on the track was pure tire rubber. A flagger positioned himself between the two cars. Marco started revving his engine. Veeroom, Veeeeeroom, vroom. The crowd went wild, they loved it. Steve responded with a few of his own. Vroom, vroom, veeeeeroommmm, POP, POP, the engine backfired, spitting flames out the muffler. The crowd jumped back and then went bezerk. Steve looked over at Marco, he didn’t look as confident as he had ten minutes ago..
The flagger pointed to Steve, he nodded, pointed to Marco, who responded with another rev of his engine. The flagger raised both hands for a split and dropped them. Squeeeel! Steve felt his car launch him, the skyline’s all wheel drive propelled him past Marco. Steve heard Marco’s turbo spooling up, he quickly shifted and floored it. Wooosh! The supra flew to make the two cars neck and neck. Steve quickly glanced at Marco, he still had that cocky smirk on his face. Steve looked back at his dash, and shifted into fourth and surged forward. Then to Steve’s surprise, Marco fell back…Steve passed the yellow spray-painted line, the quarter mile marker. He had won.


Steve whipped his car sideways and did a u-turn. The second he got out his car the crowd surrounded him. It was chaos, those who had loss bets due to Marco were not happy. Steve made his way to Marco, who was now at the finish line with his hand in his hands. “Your lucky I missed fifth, I guess we’re even now.” said Marco and he threw Steve his keys. Steve didn’t say a thing, he just flashed the same smirk. Steve found Radar in a crowd of angry betters. “Let’s get out of here bro.” Radar was astatic. “DUDE! I can’t believe you did it! You really did it!” Steve smiled. “I told you, now can you take the skyline to the garage? I got a date with that supra.” “I got you, don’t worry about it.” But before they could continue Radar was swallowed up by the crowd of angry betters.

Steve got into his new car, and took off into the night, Revenge was sweet.