Michael reached the unofficial finish line of the mountain road with the Mustang idling in fifth gear, practically glued to the rear bumper of the Autocab. He had briefly been at peace — and that giant metal monstrosity had to get in his way and ruin the whole thing.

He sighed and pulled over to the parking lot on the side of the road. He unhooked his seatbelt and stepped out of the car, slamming the driver's side door behind him in a petty fit of annoyance. Michael wore a worn black leather jacket his aunt had sent him as a birthday gift when he had turned 13, and since the weather was cold and he was finally tall enough to fit in it comfortably, he had put it on over his usual red T-shirt and black jeans.

A quiet giggle made Michael turn around. A familiar sight greeted him.

A girl stood next to another car. She was roughly Michael's height, with similarly sharp facial features, and the same piercing blue eyes. She had long, wavy, black hair, and an hourglass figure. She was pretty, and clearly knew it too, leaning confidently with her back against the door of her car, tossing her hair back as if she was a model in a shampoo commercial. She wore a white hoodie, and bright blue skinny jeans. Michelle, Michael's twin sister.

"AutoCab in your way again?" She remarked with a smug smile. Her voice was clear and sharp, with a bossy air to it.

"I was gonna break your record..." Michael sighed. His voice was deep and commanding, but Michael chose to keep a submissive, quiet tone most of the time.

Michelle wrinkled her nose as a response. "Bullshit! Your big American V8 is never going to beat my SR20 turbo!" She taunted, pushing herself off the side of her car.

Michelle drove a dark blue Nissan 180SX S13, a small Japanese sports coupe with a fittingly small engine and lightweight construction. It was modified with a simple, yet gaudy body kit, lowered suspension and heavily cambered wheels with large, silver rims. Its paint was mostly scratch free, and its bodywork completely free of dents. It had pop up headlights that were purposely stuck halfway between being fully up and down, giving the whole car a sleepy look. Several stickers and decals littered its body, reminiscent of sponsors on a racing car. Michelle thought her car was stylish and beautiful. Michael thought it was overdone and tacky.

Michael sighed and leaned against the Mustang, silently staring at the ground. Michelle always had to take everything to an extreme. As if she had read his mind, she excitedly exclaimed:

"If you're so sure your car is faster, prove it!"

When Michael didn't react immediately, she pushed him a little further with a provocative grin curling the corners of her mouth. "That crowd-killing piece of garbage can't turn, and this is a mountain road!" She turned her nose up high and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Michael suppressed a grin about how mistakenly confident she was, resorting to a slight smirk.

"Racing is about a hell of a lot more than how fast your car is. Sure, that old Nissan could be quicker than my Mustang... but I know you wouldn't be able to keep up with me as a driver." Michael said, looking towards the sky thoughtfully.

Michelle raised her eyebrows.

"All I hear is talk talk talk," she complained impatiently. "If you don't race me, you have already proven that I'm a waaaaayyyy better driver than you are. Because you know I would definitely win." She eyed him carefully, waiting for the reaction to her words to settle in.

Michael sighed. Michelle couldn't resist a chance to one up him, she always had to be number one with each everything, often insisting to strangers that she was, in fact, 4 minutes older, by virtue of being first out of the womb when they were born.

"Alright, I'll race you downhill then," he finally gave in.

"You're on!" Michelle's eyes glowed in anticipation. "Last one to the starting line has to follow!"

She sprinted to the driver's side door of her 180SX, and gracefully hopped inside.

The raspy tone of her Nissan's 4 cylinder engine echoed through the night, accompanied by the high pitched whistle of its turbocharger. Michael smiled and jumped into the driver's seat of the Foxbody, turning the key and awakening the engine just as Michelle did a burnout out of the parking lot filling the air with tire smoke.

*************

The twin siblings took off up the mountain, Michael following the 4 round tail lights and the "You just got passed by a girl!" bumper sticker of Michelle's Nissan as they began their ascent up the road. Michelle showed off by purposely drifting as many corners as she could, deftly tossing her car sideways, tires squealing in pain, and blocking Michael's vision with tire smoke. Michael followed lazily behind, easing the Mustang through the corners entirely within the limits of its tires grip, and using its V8 engine's high torque to close the distance on the straights.

Both cars could make it up and down the mountain in roughly the same amount of time, but how they achieved that speed was completely different. Michael's Mustang was large and bulky, so it lacked overall agility compared to the S13, which was small and light, but its larger frame meant it was fitted with wider tires, which gave the Mustang better stability.

The Nissan's SR20 2 liter in-line 4 engine was small and lacked torque, but it made up the difference in power with a turbocharger: an air compressor driven by the engine's exhaust gasses which pressurizes the air going into the intake manifold, giving the car much more power — at the cost of making the engine much less responsive, since a turbo has to spool up before it actually provides more power.

The Mustang, on the other hand, had a large 5 liter V8, which had plenty of torque and power, but it was only naturally aspirated — meaning it lacked a turbo or any kind of additional power add-on, but it was extremely responsive in comparison.

To summarize, the Foxbody was faster on the straights while being more responsive and stable, while the S13 was more agile and quicker in the corners.

******

They reached the top of the mountain, the road ending in an empty parking lot next to an abandoned observatory that overlooked the mountain like a great metal gargoyle.

Michael often found himself gazing up at the now run down tower that had once held the powerful telescope that looked up into space. Space was where all the good opportunities were these days, Michael often thought. You could sign over your life to some corporation for 5 years or so, and work 16 hour days in the silicone mines on Mars. If you survived, you would make enough money to come back to earth, buy property and start a family.

Michael had long known he wasn't the brightest, or the best at sports, and certainly not the richest. He certainly wouldn't make college, especially since the free public school he went to didn't even offer many of the classes most universities required to even be eligible to submit an application. He was heading nowhere but into the servitude of corporate profits in life, and deep down he despised it.

Which was why he spent his evenings up here, in the mountains, behind the wheel of his Mustang, burning the nights away along with any shred of his teen angst. Driving was the only thing he really had some kind of passion for, because the rest of his life didn't feel like it was worth living.

********

Michael and Michelle turned around in the parking lot, going down the road until they lined up next to each other on a flat section of road with a road sign that had long faded away to being illegible.

Michelle parked her Nissan in front of Michael's Foxbody.

Michael stopped right behind her, just as his wrist buzzed. His smart watch. He answered by opening his hand, which caused the watch to briefly glow light up with a shimmering blue holographic projection.

'Sis' is calling...

Answer?

Y N

Michael pointed with his other hand at Y, and his sister's voice filled the car.

"I made it up first, so I'm leading on the way down. There's no way you're gonna pass me!" Michelle bragged.

"Did you see any more AutoCabs on the way up?" Michael asked calmly.

"Nope, I'm ready to race! Try not to hit any crowds on the way down!"

Michael sighed. If he had a credit for every time he had heard that joke about Mustang stereotypes, he wouldn't have to worry about extracting silicone in space for a living.

"Ready!" Michelle shouted, cutting through his bitter mood with her excitement.

She revved her car, its large 3 inch exhaust pipe spitting flames, its engine's raspy bleat filling the air.

Michael sighed and stomped on the throttle while keeping the Foxbody in neutral. The deep growl of its V8 drowned out the S13's turbo 4.

"Your engine ain't as big as your mouth." Michael said with a smile.

"Three!" Michelle shouted, indifferent to his remark.

Michael could've sworn he heard something. Another engine, a howling, raspy song.

"Two!"

The sound grew louder, and Michael instinctively glanced in the rear view mirror, which lit up with the bluish sheen of LED headlights. It was another car, another, REAL car!

"One!"

The other car swerved around where Michael and Michelle were parked, and Michael got a clear view of it.

Its body was sleek and wide, with a short hood and long rear deck. A bright red mid-engined super car, with two singular round taillights.

A Ferrari 458 Italia.

"Woah... is that... GO GO GO!" Michelle shouted.

************