I Don't Own Initial D. you don't believe it, thats your problem...

Chapter 1

It's a chilly early November night in Stanley, North Carolina. A tallish, twenty four year old, man with blonde hair, wearing a black leather jacket over a t-shirt and black jeans, leaned against his car, a modernized marina blue 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle with white Super Sport stripes down the middle of the hood and trunk, and matching blue and white for the interior, that was parked outside an old tire and lube place the group had been meeting at for at least eight years.

The man looked as though he had a lot on his mind and wanted to be left alone.

"Yo, David…I mean, boss," a black haired man said as he nervously approached the car.

"What's up Jason?" David asked as he pushed himself off his car.

"That guy over there said something about racing the fastest guy in the area, I think he's the one who's been running all over the county and winning against some of the other team's bosses, but I'll run against him if you want me too," Jason responded not noticing David's uncomfortable appearances.

"No that's alright, I guess one last race before I go won't kill me, shouldn't take long either," the blonde man replied as he removed his heavy leather coat and laid it on his passenger seat before getting behind the wheel of the large vehicle.

As he approached the starting line of a nine and a half mile sprint that was laid out across nothing but public roads, David started thinking back across the last two weeks. His job was transferring him to Japan for two years, to him it was for no apparent reason other than his boss thought he was out for his job but, coming from his superiors it was for training and the like. It was lucky for David that he had to learn Japanese to deal with some of the investors. He was leaving the place he had called home for twenty four years in two weeks and he was dreading having to leave his car for any amount of time.

Thinking now about his car, his Chevelle, the car he had built over two years and had driven for five years now and raced for four of those years. David had built the car practically from the ground up, the motor and all, in his spare time. The factory bucket style seats remained in the car, and they were covered in white vinyl with blue inserts in the centers that matched the door and dash panels all of the blues were as close to the marina blue exterior as possible, blue factory style lap belts also remained in place instead of a safer bucket and four point racing harness set up. He painted it in a loaned paint booth and all the work that had ever been done to the motor was done by him in a friend's garage. David had built this car for showing off and going fast, not just going fast like some others did with muscle cars, even took it to cruise in nights in and around town.

He built the new motor off a crate aluminum LS6 motor adding the supercharger and boring the cylinders out .030 of an inch over original along with re-tightening the compression ratio in the motor to 13:1 using flat top pistons. He put the heads together with a five angle valve job, along with porting both the exhaust and intake ports and NASCAR spec valve train with hydraulic roller lifters and roller rocker arms coupled with a cam aggressive enough to move it all. The new motor came after the original 396 spun a rod bearing and locked up with just over ninety thousand miles on the motor.

This combination of parts and brains gave his car more power than most could ever dream of without a blower coming through the hood, coming out at close to 800 hp and 700 ft-lbs of torque or better at the rear wheels. The suspension and frame were reinforced to compensate so that the chassis didn't twist and send the machine off the road but remained as close to factory as possible. No shop had ever touched his car, and unless it was absolutely necessary they never would. He may have worked as a business manager for a company that had branches all over the world, but in his mind cars were the only thing that brought peace to his restless mind, and heavy foot.

At the start line Jason stood in front of the Chevelle and a 2002 Honda S2000. He raised his arms and yelled over the two growling motors, the Chevelle sounding like a NASCAR motor at a full gallop, the Honda's barely audible over the exhaust note of the machine next to it: "Ready…. Go!" as his arms dropped and he ducked between the two cars to keep from falling on his butt as the Chevelle's front wheels left the ground in a short hop brought on by the torque the supercharged 454 was putting out, both motors screaming as the two cars left the start line behind them.

"He started slow," Jason muttered as he watched the Chevelle fall behind the smaller Honda.

David had deliberately allowed the Honda ahead, allowing himself to observe his opponent's style till the first corner where he would leave him sucking on dust and exhaust fumes.

As the roads natural curves got sharper David adjusted his foot work and steering while still simply cruising along behind the Honda and its driver, who seemed to be having a hard time keeping the car on a proper line.

"The major turns are blocked by some of the folks that run out here, just make sure you don't hit any of them," David had overheard Jason telling the Honda's driver as he pulled up next to him. This simple statement of fact made David laugh a little seeing how much the Honda seemed to be struggling to keep the barely trying Chevelle behind it.

At the first corner a car blocked one of the two paths the road took, and the Honda swung out too wide nearly hitting it while David simply drove through the ninety degree right hand corner by swinging the tail only as much as necessary and leaving the Honda behind him, he began putting on a bit of a show letting the heavy car carry itself around the corners using only the pedals to keep it from flying out of control and into a tree or worse.

As they approached David's favorite place along the course, a long sweeping right hand curve, he allowed the car to swing out across the road and with as little counter steer as possible he cleared the curve at 90 miles an hour without even breaking a sweat while feeling the g-forces trying to push him out of the back corner of the seat.

Again he started thinking more about the past four years he had been racing in the Chevelle. His mind flashed back to his first win on the very course he was running, against the leader of the Timber Wolves team.

"The deal is anyone who can beat me takes over the team, it's a tradition in this area, you have nothing to really lose if you don't cross that line before me but I have everything to lose, so I'll be going at my best, I want the same out of you," The old leader of the Timber Wolves said as he got into his car.

"You have a deal," David half shouted over the drone of the motors of the other cars as they moved off the start line.

"David, the course you're going to run tonight is different from the normal, this track is a tradition among the leaders of the teams in this area, only the leaders race on it so they know it well," Jason said through the window of the Chevelle as it waited on the start line.

David's knowledge of the course he'd lived off of for twenty years and his car had allowed him to jump out in front and stay there till the last turn where his opponent tried to pass him but the extra power the modified V8 had over the smaller six cylinder allowed him to stay in front and win the battle and his leadership role in the Timber Wolves.

That race was nearly three years ago and David realized that if his mind had wondered that far he was going to easily win this race as well. He slammed the brakes and allowed the car to once again slide around the curves of the road as he floored the accelerator to bring the rear end back behind him. He came up on the corner that every one hated but him. A sharp left hander that required everyone to nearly stop to clear it due to its extreme angle.

He pulled the steering wheel hard right before slamming the brake pedal to the floor and pulling the wheel back to the left, allowing the back of the car to swing out sideways and then letting the back go just a little further making it look like the nose of the car was chasing the back of it before countering with the front wheels and his foot work to make sure it stayed in the proper direction, lining the car up perfectly with the exit as he floored the accelerator to pull the heavy car out of the slide and continue on its marry way, the 454 under its hood roaring like a pissed off lion as it pushed the car towards the next corner.

The people who were fascinated to see what other racers did at that corner were standing in awe as the Honda drove past and using the e-brake to slide through the corner.

By the time the Honda saw the tail lights of the Chevelle again, the driver was watching as David slid through the next corner not knowing it was the last time he would see those rectangular tail lamps till he crossed the finish line and looked in his rear view mirrors after passing it at the line.

In the four years David had been a street racer he had raced quit a few times as the leader of the Timber Wolves but his favorite had to have been before he ever even considered going after the Timber Wolves leader, against a punk kid who had been shooting his mouth off most of the night about his times and his car.

"I'll beat anyone who wants a go at me," the kid said standing next to a race ready appearing 1994 Nissan 240SX.

"Alright, I'll have a go, see what you can do against me and mine," David said pointing to the marina blue Chevelle behind him that back in those days was still running a 396 block that had been bored out to a 400.

The kid leaned against his car remaining silent for a moment before accepting David's proposal with a simple nod of his head. As they lined their cars up on the official starting line, the kid was still quiet.

When the starter dropped her arms David let the clutch out and launched the Chevelle into a wheel stand before bringing it back down and flat walking away from the 240 and its driver. It was David's easiest win ever.

David's mind came back from the race that took place three and a half years ago, he looked in his rear view mirror noticing he no longer saw the S2000, and realizing that he was very close to the finish line, he floored the pedal and flew across the line as fast as he could before turning the car one hundred and eighty degrees to watch his opponent cross it as he had always done.

He was going to miss all this and he knew it, he had made arrangements to have the Chevelle that was currently vibrating beneath his feet to be sent to Japan a month after his arrival so he could at least be settled when it got to him but he was going to miss the place he called home more than the car.

The evening ended as pretty much a farewell party for David because he would spend the next two weeks getting everything ready to leave.

David woke up the next morning staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, before remembering he'd spent the night at the house where his Chevelle would be stored for the next month. He stood in the houses four car garage staring at his marina blue machine resting peacefully between his friend Jason's scorch red 1970 Plymouth GTX and a car under a cover, its bullet shaped fenders and the louvers over the back glass pressing their forms into the tight fitting cover. This was David's secret project, only Jason and the Timber Wolves knew anything about it so far.

Again David had this feeling that the Chevelle wouldn't make it to Japan when it was supposed to, but he brushed this off as he climbed into a four door sedan he would drive until he left for Japan.

The company he worked for actually had agreed to pay the shipping fees for his car and belongings as well as the two years of Japanese taxes on the car to get him to go to Japan for them, but he was still concerned about where he would keep the car once he had it in Japan.