[B][center][h2]Joel Nicolosi[/h2][/center][/b]

Joel nosed the car up to the line just as the brake lights went out on the GT-R to his left. Everything was in order and the mechanics of every second seemed to gradually slow down as the rest of the field filed in behind them. Inside his helmet, his world was closed off and sacred; each breath, waiting and warm against the padding. Hands gripped the wheel. In his gut he could feel the turn of the cams in the rhythm of the machine beneath him. The car itself seemed to be counting down with him. His blood pulsed under the restraints and his eyes watched as the red lights came up across the gantry.  [I]Five across, one blinked away, now four[/i]. It was no different than when raced back in high school at the streetlights. [I]Another out, three...[/i]Revs up ready to launch. Don't spin the tires. [I]Two...[/i] Ready on the clutch. [I]One...[/i]

As the final pair of lights dropped away, Joel felt like a bullet out of a rifle. The soft rubber bit hard and almost in an instant they were soaring up the hill, the white lines of the streets zipping and curling beneath them like an electric dance floor. The black GT-R held fast in the main line. Joel had neither gained nor lost ground against him. They weren't the top team for no reason. He could see white letters of the tires blurring into rings under the fenders with a puff of exhaust flame. The first turn came up and he could hear his dad over the radio calling the inside line open. He geared down and tucked in behind the black of the state-of-the art Nissan so close he could see the shadow of the rear wing over his hood. With a turn of the wheel he followed through the tight surface street section. 

Hard right and then left. Gear and brake, fingers worked the paddle shifters. The chassis shuddered against the hard streets that were never designed for motorsport. A barrier would come up and then flash away close enough that Joel could see the spectators faces. A waving flag, a shouting fist in the air, an ambulance and a safety marshal in bright green- all in their own soundless world against rise and fall of his engine's angry howl. A hairpin turn down a one-way street between two skyscrapers and a double apex right hander and they were headed downhill for the tunnel. Joel caught a glimpse of Old Harbor and the dark water of the river, full up with boat traffic, all the way over to Riverside as they ripped around the curve.

The downhill tunnel came up and Joel squinted preparing his eyes. The changeover from broad daylight to the dim tunnel at high speed was an adjustment that had to be compensated for each lap. Then the return to sunlight when they erupted onto the waterfront was just as bad. There was a period of temporary blindness before the first chicane at the bottom of the hill. He hung back slightly, not because he was concerned about a collision, but because he was setting up a pass on the second chicane. 

The GT-R braked on time and took the turns swiftly. Joel went hard on the brakes late and nearly cut the chicane, almost glancing the wall. He came rocketing off the corner and headed towards the back of the black Nissan like a heat-seeking missile. The clever Japnese driver was ready for him though and blocked down into the inside line before Joel could get his nose in the corner. They both took the turn awkwardly allowing the rest of the field to catch up. Joel cursed. He knew he was faster through the harbor. They screamed down a long left-hander as the course narrowed again right on the waterfront. Sailboat masts blinked by like fenceposts. Two more quick turns and they were back on the front straightaway headed back up the hill. [I]Lap one down.[/i]

Tommy watched the screens with Marlin gritting his teeth as Joel nearly straight-shot the chicane and tried to pass at the Harbor while Lou barked at him over the radio not to cook the brakes on the first lap. He looked out over the starting line as they came by with most everyone holding the same position. The GT-R in front was stretching its lead slightly on the long straight. No wrecks on the start was good, but Joel had to get ahead before the first pit stop for their strategy to work. He shook his head slightly and grimaced at Marlin. "Tense isn't it!" He shouted over the noise. He loved the competition and the excitement rivaled even his NFL days.

[@Mattchstick][@PrinceAlexus]