Apex Designs, Southside Sol City, 0400-0600Eyes blinked open as the alarm sounded. The room was still pitch black and Joel had to feel around for his phone on the nightstand to quiet the
8-bit jingle that he always used as a wakeup call. It was 4:03am. He never set it to anything other than prime numbers. Groggy, he looked around and enjoyed the dark silence momentarily and prepared to break away from the warm grip of the bed. The upstairs remodel that was now his bedroom wasnât exactly legal since the old office space lacked windows, but what the code inspector didnât know wouldnât hurt anyone, besides total darkness was about the only way he could really sleep. As the heat-pump churned happily in its low rumble he knew it had to still be fairly cold outside. He remembered hearing about a chance of snow flurries last night, but today was supposed to be warmer. He groaned and forced himself up, hoping the annoyance of snow would not put a damper on his plans. Tommy and the hauler would arrive around six. It was track-day and that was a good thing.
Standard morning routine was a shower and a shave,
if he felt like shaving, get dressed, eat something, watch the news and read a few articles from his regular list of websites all while drinking copious amounts of coffee. As he donned his standard jeans, sneakers and t-shirt, he put on a retro gray Daedalus Air Cargo hoodie that a salesman had given him a while back. It had an old 747 freighter printed on the back that he liked and since they were nice enough to let them ârentâ part of the old cargo airport for a few hours it felt in good taste.
Downstairs on the floor only his Jeep and the 300 sat in the dim moonlight that filtered through the skylights above. Glancing at the Jeep, he was glad he pulled it in so there wouldnât be any snow or frost to brush off. Looking at the 300 gave him a different feeling altogether. The red, white and blue paint glistened back at him, spotless and perfect. It was a thing of beauty.
True beauty. He thought. He checked his phone and as he often did when he was alone and had time, sat down on the floor in front of it and just looked at it. Da Vinci had the Last Supper, Michelangelo sculpted David, Pavarotti sang opera, Joel Nicolosi built racecars. He could remember when he bought it, back in high school, a bone stock non-turbo â95 300ZX, from a lady who was a retired school teacher. She was the original owner and passed along the original bill of sale, ownerâs manual and window sticker from Sol City Nissan to him. He had them framed and would often take them along whenever he showed the car. So much time had passed since then⌠friends, women, family members had all come and gone, but the car remained, always there. It went through its various transformations from a pure streetfighter to a GT class contender. Of course it was his connection with ex-Angels quarterback, Tommy Lomax, that allowed him to reach the world stage. Tommyâs money as an NFL star and entrepreneur opened many doors Joel would never have accessed alone: The state of the art transmissions, brakes, dampers and fuel cells that were required by the rules were extremely costly and accounted for over half of the carâs setup, not to mention the four brand new engines they negotiated out of the Nissan bigwigs.
Joel raised the door when he heard the diesel rumble of the hauler pull up outside along with the hiss of air brakes. The cold night air came through the shop giving him a chill. He watched as the driver, one of his customers who regularly drove a for freight hauler, very nonchalantly blocked up the street with the long truck and trailer. Traffic wouldnât be a factor at 6am.
Tommy spared no expense on the elaborate truck and trailer and Joel found it a bit of a curiosity to spend so much on a top-flight hauler for a car that only competed in one major race every year. Tommy shrugged it off.
When a boy got bigger, so did the toys! He joked. The bright white truck sported the logos of both business down the side of trailer,
Apex Designs and
Footsteps Sports Bar along with an aggressive looking shot of the car, the #75 and various other decals from sports, local businesses and motoring. Joel insisted they keep the old Nissan sun and bar logo because it ticked off the factory Nissan team tremendously. Proudly on the rollup door at the back of the trailer was another local business decal in large font,
Dannyâs Towing & Rollback Service â âYour local hookerâ. Danny himself contributed about five total dollars towards the race team, but delivered cars to and from Joelâs shop regularly. The slogan was too catchy to pass up though, so Joel and Tommy stuck it on the back. It was always good for a laugh.
Tommy eased down from the passenger seat of the tractor meeting Joelâs hand in a firm handshake that morphed into a friendly grip competition and a brotherly embrace, âWhatâs up Han Brolo? How long you been awake?â He said. He was familiar with Joelâs bizarre routines and that there was no telling how long the mechanic had been awake. He glanced down at his sweatshirt and smirked a little.
âCouple hours,â Joel shrugged. He caught Tommyâs glance, âWhat is it?â
âNothinââ Tommy said with a grin, âLetâs roll.â
Solaris County Regional (Old Sol International) 0700-0800The hauler and assembled cadre of vehicles equated to something of a mini car show in itself. Lined up in various colors and styles, the vehicles of the #75 pit crew belonged to a combination of Joelâs friends and customers along with some of Tommyâs old teammates from the his professional football days. A sleek black Porsche, a bright yellow Lotus, a 90âs era Honda NSX, Joelâs dadâs more streetable 300ZX and others, many of which Joel personally tuned. The haulerâs trailer was unfolded into something of a kitchen, a garage and a camper all in one. A large tent was set up alongside where the racecar sat comfortably. Joelâs Jeep was parked close-by along with Louâs big Toyota Land Cruiser rounding out the lot. The smell of fresh breakfast wafted from the trailer and spirits were jovial as everyone talked and mingled. Music from Joel's playlist thrummed in the background. It was all a pure bullshit session before the âworkâ began.
The sun was coming up and the eastern sky blazed in a bright orange beneath the broken morning clouds. Joel continued his steady flow of coffee enjoying it against the cool of the morning He left the breakfast to the crew- He couldnât drive on a full stomach. Glancing out over the complex, half of the crosswind runway, the nearest taxiway and a portion of the tarmac were all theirs, already blocked off with cones and temporary barriers to simulate a race course. Being closer to the coast, the snow had already melted away and only a few patches of the pesky white remained. Unlike when they came out in the summer, the air felt fresh and clean. The car would run much better in the cold.
The main runways of 18/36 were still active and would remain so throughout the testing. The City and Daedalus werenât going to shut down the whole airport for this little spectacle. However, there was plenty of space and Joel watched a smoky P-3 with a blue band over its fuselage touchdown in the distance. Those were the markings of Customs Department aircraft he remembered and recalled something about it on the news. The mayor was bringing in some help from the Feds to clean up the city. He shook his head at the thought. What was a little unusual was the air race pylons set up. They bobbed gently in the light breeze. Heâd seen a little monoplane parked nearby, but paid it no mind. Someone else was apparently getting in their practice time today as well.
Might be interesting to watch. He thought. Heâd seen them on television a few times.
@PrinceAlexusJoel's Playlist #4
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