Becoming Antonia Part 25.

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Warning, the following chapter contains very technical writing. You have now been warned, and I don't want any comments or PM's about that fact. ENJOY the chapter for what it is. A STORY!

Becoming Antonia Part 25.

Written by Toni Trepasso
Edited by Holly Logan, with my many thanks to her.

 

I can honestly say that the coolest streetcar I’ve ever driven, so far, is Jen’s Viper. It’s almost better than sex. ALMOST. To know that you have five hundred horsepower, and five hundred foot-pounds of torque at the beck and call of your right foot is the single most exhilarating feeling I’ve ever had. Lucky for me, I remembered Jen’s advice on the ride back to Santa Fe from the hotel. I followed the bus. Though I found myself wanting nothing more than to open that V-10 up and see what it could do, I held back and just cruised along at 70 behind the team bus.

Once home, I got after converting the Viper over to ‘Flex-Fuel’. Basically that means that it could run on anything from pure alcohol, (either methanol, or ethanol), pump gas, E85, which consists of a mix of ethanol with pump gas, right on up to pure racing gas. As luck would have it, as I was researching to see if anyone had done this before, I saw online that my old buddy Karl Jacobs had started a company for just this sort of thing. SVS*, had a system specifically designed to le the Dodge Viper to run with “flex-fuel” capabilities. Being as I hadn’t talked to Karl since my accident, I sent him and e-mail and told him that a friend of mine had asked me to convert her Viper over for her. I didn’t want to talk with him on the phone, since I didn’t sound like the guy he knew from racing.

He shot me back an e-mail with a price list, and I sent him one that said I’d take the complete system with the twin turbo upgrade. I know I didn’t run this by Jen, but something told me that she’d love to have the extra power. The turbo kit bumped the already potent engine up to just shy of a thousand horsepower, and just over a thousand foot-pounds of torque. Talk about tire shredding!

However, even with the necessity of having to increase the fuel flow for the alcohol, it still got fuel mileage comparable to most six-cylinder engines, due in part to the computer control that cuts flow to some cylinders when the demand for power isn’t needed.

By the end of the week, I had everything from SVS at the house, and by Sunday afternoon, I had hidden the turbo’s in place of the stock mufflers, and had the computers swapped out. Once I test fired the engine, on racing methanol, in my garage, I couldn’t resist taking it out just to see if there was really a difference in the power. I;d thought it was a kick in the pants before, but I had no idea what was in store for me when I flogged the throttle peddle. From a rolling start, I hit it, and was immediately thrown back in my seat as the car rocketed forward. That was enough for me. It’s one thing to do something like this on a race track, but here I was on some back-roads in the desert. The last thing I needed was to do something stupid, and wreck the car. Hell, no one would find me for days out here. I headed back to the house and got cleaned up for the trip to change cars with Jen.

I did make a little detour first. I'd called Jen’s house to ask Gertie if she knew what size head Jen had. She told me what the band on a hat read. Then after thanking her, and asking her not to tell Jen, I called, I got a hold of a guy I knew that did custom airbrush work in the area. He told me that he had a helmet in that size, and he could have the paint done in about an hour. On the way over to pick up the helmet, I called Jen’s cell and told her I’d start out in the morning to drop off her car. A little bit later, she called back and told me that she’d set it up so security at the movie lot would let me in. This freaked me out a bit, since Jen was the only movie star I’d ever met, but something told me she wasn’t going to be the last.

I have to tell you, as hard as it was on the way home with the car, it was much easier on the way back to control my speed. I guess scaring yourself half to death will do that to you. By mid-afternoon I was pulling up to the gate at the movie lot, and the look on the guard's face was priceless.

“Can I help you, Miss?” he asked, looking over the car.

“Yes sir, I’m here to drop off Ms. Stevens’ car to her.”

“Name?”

“Toni Trepasso.”

“Trespasso... Trespaseo....” he said looking at his clip board. “Nope, not on the list.”

“Repeat after me, TREE- PASS- OH” I told him sternly. “There’s no extra “S”.

He shot me a look of contempt, and looked again. “I ain’t got no Toni Trespaseo on this list.”

“Hold on, Cojack,” I told him as I grabbed my cell. I called Jen, and to my luck, she picked up. “Hey Jen, it’s Toni. I’m at the front gate, and Barney Fife here, says I’m not on the list.” She asked to speak to the guard and I smiled at him as I handed him the phone. “It’s for you.”

I can only guess what she actually said to him, but I could watch the color drain from his face, as he held my phone to his ear. Once she was done scolding him, he closed my phone and handed it back to me in a daze.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Trepasso.” he told me, getting my name right this time. “Ms. Stevens can be found on lot 9. That’s straight down, last building on your left. You should see her other vehicle parked there.”

“Thank you,” I told him as I put the car back in gear, and headed to find Jen.

Since I had filled the tank just a block or two before I got to the studio, I knew the car was running on mostly E85 by now. On this trip, I’d run a tank of methanol, a tank of premium pump gas, and now a tank of E85. The best part, was there hadn't been so much as a hiccup, as the new computer monitored everything and seamlessly made the transition between the fuels.

By the time I slowly made my way up to Jen’s Hummer, she was already standing by it, waving to me.

“He didn’t give you too much trouble did he?” she asked, making reference to the guard at the gate.

“Nah, just the normal mispronouncing my last name,” I told her with a giggle as she gave me a hug.

“So, how did it go? Am I going to be off of Greenpeace’s wanted list now?”

“You'll probab'y go from their wanted list to the CHP's most wanted list,” I told her as I reached in the trunk of the car and handed her the box I’d picked up from my friend, the air brush artist.

“What’s this?” she asked as she took the box from me.

“Oh, that’s the extra parts I had left over. For some reason they didn’t fit. But don’t worry, the car seems to run alright without them. It only shakes above 20 miles an hour,” I burst out laughing.

“Cute,” she told me with a smirk. “Seriously, what’s this?” she asked, shaking the box.

“Well why don’t you open it and find out, silly girl?”

She opened the box and pulled out the helmet I had painted to match the car, with a mural on the back of clouds and lightning. She looked at the helmet, then looked at me in confusion, then at the car.

“What did you do to my car, Toni?” she finally asked.

“Just converted it over to flex-fuel like you asked. An old racing friend of mine makes the kit, but there is one catch,” I told her, as I tried to hold back a smile.

“What’s the catch?” she asked, a bit leery.

“Well, the kit included a twin turbo setup, and since I don’t have anything I can use that on, I had to put it on your car.”

“You did WHAT?” she about shouted at me.

“I put twin turbos on your car,” I told her as I popped the hood. You could see the inter-cooler and the waste gates, but she looked all over the engine bay for the turbos. After a couple of minutes of looking, with no luck, she finally asked me what I’d done with them, so I pulled out a mirror with a telescopic handle and positioned it under where the mufflers usually sit. The look on her face was priceless as she saw I wasn’t messing with her. I really had put twin turbos on her Viper.

“I know I’m probably going to regret asking this, but how stout is this thing now?” she asked, shaking her head.

“About double,” I told her, sheepishly.

“Double what?” she asked.

“Double the horsepower, and double the torque,” I said, looking at the ground and kicking at it, like I’d seen my friend’s daughters do when they were getting scolded.

“Wasn’t the idea to make this more eco-friendly?” she asked with a smirk of confusion.

“It is. I made the entire trip on two tanks of fuel.”

“You ... what?”

“I made the trip back out here on two tanks of fuel, Jen.”

“How could you make it on two tanks? Didn’t you tell me it was a five tank trip when you were following the bus?”

“That’s the beauty of the system. The new computer cuts fuel and spark to some of the cylinders when the power isn’t needed. You’re only on all ten when you really gag the throttle. Other than that, it’s usually on somewhere between four and eight.” I told her.

“So I’ll still have plenty of power, but I’ll also have the economy of a smaller car?” she asked to make sure she was following me.

“Exactly.” I said, beaming with pride.

“I can’t wait to see what you have planned for the Hummer,” she told me with a giggle.

“Oh, I have some parts already on the way to my house.”

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” she asked with a grin.

“Well, just know that I have some tricks up my sleeve.”

“Alright, but I still want to know what the helmet is for,” she told me, holding it up and looking at the artwork.

“I took the car out for a shakedown run and scared the shit out of myself.”

“Doing what?” she asked me.

“I gagged the throttle, and the car took off like it had a rocket strapped to it.” Looking up, I was met with a grin of excitement.

“Well, come on, let’s head for home, and we can take it out after dinner,” she told me as she started to climb into the Viper.

“HOLD IT!” I said to her, as I grabbed her arm. “I’ll drive this one. You forget, I’m still not sure how to get to your house here. You drive the Hummer, and I’ll drive this one. At least that way I know I can keep up with you.”

“You’re no fun.” she said with a fake pout.

She led me back to her house, with me in the Viper, and her in the Hummer. After another great meal with Gertie, I could tell Jen was itching to take her new toy out and see what it could really do, so I handed her, her helmet, and grabbed mine from the trunk, and strapped into the new five point racing harness I’d added, in place of the stock seatbelts. She fired it up, and after letting the oil pressure get up to where it should be, she revved the engine, and you could hear the faint sound of the turbos, just barely audible over the roar of the powerful V-10 engine. I’d already strapped on my helmet, and as she looked at me through the open visor on hers, I gave her a nod.

She eased out onto the road near her house, that if I didn’t know any better, and I didn’t, I’d have guessed was the world famous Mulholland Drive, which has a series of twist and turns more like you’d find in Germany on the Nurburgring*, than a public road in Southern California. She handled that car like a seasoned race car driver, which I must say I found a bit surprising. To look at Jen, you’d never see her as someone who could handle that much power with that level of control.

Once she’d finished scaring the crap out of me on that mountainous stretch of road, she shut the car off once we were safely back at her house. I found I had to literally pry my hand off of the “oh shit” handle built into the door, since I’d had a death grip on it since we’d started. I looked over and saw that she had her helmet off and was looking at the gas gauge with a puzzled look on her face.

“That can’t be right.” I heard her say as I pulled off my brain bucket.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think the gas gauge is busted,” she told me as she tapped on the instrument cluster. “It was full when we left, and it says there is still three quarters of a tank left. That trip usually only leaves a quarter of a tank.”

“That’s the beauty of the system I put in,” I told her with a smile that couldn’t be hidden. “Whenever you aren’t on the throttle, the computer saves fuel by cutting off injectors and spark from however many cylinders it doesn’t take to keep the engine running.”

“Wow! If this doesn’t change some minds about me caring about the environment, nothing will,” she told me as she reached over to give me a hug.

There was one question I just had to ask her. "Where did you learn how to drive like that?

"Well, back when I was a guy, I used to work at a dirt track. I did the timing and sound systems. Part of what I did was to drive a car around the track to test the timing loops. I've been in a few sprint cars and a World of Outlaws car or three. I even raced a modified for a while. Those days are long gone, though."

"I imagine the studios would shit a brick if they knew."

"Oh, they know alright. I've been given a script about a woman racing in NASCAR. Looks like I might be in Daytona for a while in a year or so. I might even be doing my own driving in some of the close-ups on the in-car camera when they start filming."

"Really?"

"If the producer and I can reach an agreement on how much I'm getting, that is."

"That's fantastic, Jen. Could I visit you and watch some of the filming? It would be great to be back around racing again."

An evil grin spread across her face. "Maybe I can do better than that, Toni. How about I get you a role in the picture?"

"WHAT?"

"You heard me, Missy! Want to sit on top of the pit box? There's a part for a female crew chief available. I think you'd be incredible in the role."

"But I don't know anything about acting!"

"But you do know about mechanics and racing, Toni. Just be you. That's all you need to do."

"I don't know what to say, Jen."

"How about 'Yes' All I can do is get you a screen test with the director. After that it's all up to you. At least think it over. You've got some time to decide."

We both decided that since it was late, I’d sleep in one of her guest rooms, and head back to my place with her Hummer in the morning. Before I left with the truck, she told me that she’d be calling a few people she knew who did some writing for different car magazines, and have them do some articles on the car, and what I’d done to it. I told her it might be as good an idea as any to get some positive press for once. We hugged, and I headed back east to get started on the Hummer.

I knew I was going to have my work cut out for me, but I knew of a couple of companies that made a few trick pieces to help improve gas mileage on trucks like this. I’d already placed an order with a company out of Santa Fe that told me they made a system to convert the Hummer over to a Bio-diesel hybrid. I also placed a call to a company in England that makes what’s called a “regenerative braking system*” What that does is take some of the energy from normal driving, and spins up a fly wheel. Then when you take off from a stop, it uses the spinning fly wheel to help get the vehicle moving again. They’ve been using it in some race cars, to help launch the car out of the corners better, but some of the big truck manufacturers have been putting it in their trucks to help ease the strain put on the engine when hauling a heavy load.

Once I had all the parts at my place I got to work tearing down the truck so I could attack each part I had to change. The drive train went pretty smooth. I knew I was going to have to do some fabrication work to mount the electric generators and motors, but with a little cutting and massaging, it was good to go. The only issue came when I had to find a place to put the batteries.

I’d been wracking my brain trying to figure out where to hide them so anyone looking wouldn’t know they were there. Then on the way to one of the games, Cindy came up with the idea of hiding them under the seats. The rear seats could be changed, and I could build new ones to house the ten lithium-metal hydride batteries. Cindy even gave me a hand with it, since Sarah was getting closer by the day to giving birth, and Dad just didn’t have the dexterity in his hands to be able to safely help.

On the day we got the housings done, Dad came racing into the garage, and told me, “IT”S TIME!” It took me a moment to realize he was saying Sarah was having the baby. I grabbed my keys and off we went to the hospital. I know I was a bundle of nerves, but I tried to stay calm to help my fiancée. I stayed in the delivery room with her and, although she called me every name in the book, I had all I could do not to laugh when I saw the doctors and nurses looking at her funny when she pronounced that I would never be allowed to touch her again.

She gave birth just after midnight on December 16th, and I can’t think of a better birthday present anyone could ever give me, than the beautiful boy she brought into the world. At the point where I first saw my son you could have told me my ass was on fire and I probably wouldn’t have cared. I was there for the birth of my child and I’d never leave him. I knew I would always make sure that my son knew he was loved, and he and his mother both knew they were the most important things in my life.

I took a couple of weeks off from playing hockey to be able to look after my son and his mother when they came home from the hospital. I didn’t want either of them getting sick or tired, so I did everything I could to wait on the two of them hand and foot. I even got up to feed Patrick Junior, so his mom could sleep through the night.

A funny thing happened though. After about a week of getting up and feeding him, I started to notice my breasts were swollen. I didn’t really give it much thought until I found the front of my t-shirt wet one morning when I heard him crying. I pushed it out of my mind long enough to give him his bottle and get him back to sleep, but I made myself a note to get looked at.

I chose to err on the side of caution and went to the doctor I’d found in Santa Fe. She ended up doing all sorts of test on me, including ‘milking’ my breasts to see what was happening. Come to find out, I was experiencing was what most ‘wet nurses’ go through. Because I was doing motherly duties for my son, my body’s metabolism was tricked, for lack of a better term, into thinking I was the baby’s mother. Thus I was lactating right along with Sarah. I made sure the doctor tested my milk thoroughly, and we found out that there was nothing different with my milk than with Sarah’s. She was elated when she found out that we no longer needed to buy formula, but I, however, was a bit nervous.

I’d gone with her to the classes she took to learn how to do it right, but I'd never thought I’d need to actually put what I’d learned to use. It wasn’t all bad, though. Pat was gaining weight at a rate of a couple of pounds a week, and when we took him to the doctor for a checkup we were told that he was growing fast. Not abnormally fast, but on the fast side of normal. The pediatrician told us that he wasn’t getting fat, he was building muscle and to not be surprised if he could move on his own shortly, which he did a week later. When I found him crawling across the floor, going after the teddy bear my dad had given him, Sarah was on the phone with her sister and hadn’t noticed until I said something to her.

It was January before I got Jen’s Hummer back from the shop I was having do the upholstery job. All I had left was to put all the new running gear back in and get to work on the suspension modifications she'd asked for.

I’d figured that since she was going to be doing most of her driving on-road, I’d focus on that aspect first. Some air ride suspension would help this beast in the turns, and also be able to help handle the extra power and extra weight the new drive-train would provide. That was the easy part. However, she'd also asked me to make it so it would have full off-road capabilities at the flip of a switch. That proved to be a bit of a challenge, but not impossible.

I had found that a new company out of Baja California made electro-magnetically actuated sway bar releases. They proved invaluable in allowing the suspension to have the “flex” that every off-roader wants. After I ordered a set for the front and a set for the rear, I got to looking at the setup, and ordered two more sets of each. What I did with these was use one set to disconnect the air-bags from the suspension, and the other set to suck the bag into the frame to get it out of the way. All it took was bit of milling on the magnets, and I had it working by the end of the month. I couldn’t think of a better time to test it out, so I went out behind the house we were renting since our new one was still about a month away from being livable, and drove it up the mountain we were at the base of.

The suspension handled flawlessly as I made my way up and then back down the steep face of the rock. One test down, one to go. I flipped the switch that controlled the magnets, and felt the truck instantly squat, and the ride firmed up as I made my way out to the road. Once on the smooth blacktop, I hammered the throttle, and the truck took off with more power than it'd had before. It still wasn’t like driving the Viper, but it had more guts than a standard Hummer.

I took the switchbacks that surround the area I was living in, and found that the large, cumbersome Hummer was able to handle the curves just as well, if not better, than Sarah’s car, which I have to tell you was a bit of a shock, since I’d just used it to climb an off-road trail that most people wouldn’t attempt with a rock-crawler, let alone a street vehicle.

I just couldn’t help myself, I had to know what kind of numbers this baby was making at the wheels, so I headed to a shop I knew that had a chassis dynamometer. Once strapped down, the numbers were off the chart compared to the stock Hummer they had on site. I knew Jen would be pleased with the results, and truth be told, it felt good to get my hands dirty again. That was the one thing I’d been missing over the months since I’d changed.

A quick call to Jen, and I let her know that her truck was locked, cocked, and ready to rock. I asked if she had received any packages recently, and she told me that she got one in the other day, but she didn’t know what it was. I explained that I’d ordered her a Bio-Diesel Refining Still, so she could make her own fuel. This got her excited, since she knew she could send Gertie out to the different restaurants in the area, and get the used oil from their fryers for little or no money. At the same time, she’d basically be able to cut her dependence on fossil fuels. The other thing I suggested was ordering another still the company made, so she could make her own Ethanol. She wasn’t too keen on that idea, since she really didn’t have anyplace to store the corn that would be needed for that.

Once again, I left for LA before dawn, and found myself only having to fuel up a couple of times on the way back out there. It had been a ten tank trip to get the truck to my house, but after I’d added the new computer for the engine and some computer controlled compression reliefs, the engine now had the power of a larger engine, with the fuel economy of the smallest of economy cars.

I pulled into the movie studio in the mid-afternoon, and like the last time, the guard began giving me shit about getting in. This was a different guard than last time, but everything got cleared up when the other guard showed up and cleared me to go in. Apparently he had told Jen I was there, because she was again waiting in the parking area, leaning against the Viper as I pulled up.

“Well? I take it this has more tricks than a show dog now too, right?” she asked with a giggle and a hug.

“I think you could say that,” I told her with a wink.

“Alright, what did you do to this one?” she asked as she looked it over.

“First, it has a new computer, so you can run this one on bio-diesel, or normal diesel. I also added the electric motors you asked for, and they get their juice from either the running engine or the batteries, or both. Besides having ten lithium-metal-hydride batteries, there are ten high output short term storage units that will deliver a full jolt of half a gigawatt when the vehicle is starting from a dead stop. That will allow the engine to work less, and save fuel. Also, the computer I installed controls a series of compression reliefs that will allow the engine to run on less cylinders, by cutting the fuel to some when the demand on the engine isn’t that high, just like the Viper.” I showed her under the hood of the truck. “Oh, and I can’t forget the Regenerative Braking System.”

“What does THAT do?”

“It stores power in a flywheel under deceleration, and then releases it under acceleration.”

“Nice, but what are these extra lines running here?” she asked, pointing to the new injector nozzles I'd installed.

“Oh, those are for the fun part of the truck,” I giggled.

“What did you do?” she asked with a smirk, shaking her head.

“I added nitrous-oxide, and propane injection.”

“You what?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“Nitrous-oxide, and propane injection. Both of those are set up on a switch that activates when the throttle is at full open.”

“I know about Nitrous, but what does the propane do?”

“Well, basically the same thing. Diesel engines can run on just about anything, and liquid propane is just adding fuel to the fire, so to speak.”

“I know I’m going to kick myself for asking, but do you have any idea what this thing is putting out now?” she asked.

I handed her the printout I'd received from the dyno run, and saw her face light up a bit when she saw the numbers. Once I let the shock wear off a bit, I brought her to the inside, and showed her the tricks I'd done with the suspension.

“Just flip this switch, and watch what happens,” I told her as I started up the truck for her.

She did as I asked, and you could watch the truck take a bit more aggressive stance as the magnetic pieces did their jobs. I pointed to the loading dock near where we were parked and suggested she drive up it. She gave me a funny look at first, but slowly made her way to the four foot high wall, and put the front tires against it. You could watch the suspension do it’s thing as the rear end squatted, and the front end just drove up the wall. I could see her smiling inside the truck as she continued to drive onto the loading dock, then inside the building. I lost sight of her for a moment inside of the dark studio, but heard the horn blow as I saw the truck drive out of the building, and jump off of the dock. The truck handled the drop with ease, and after she turned back around, she parked next to where I was standing.

“That was cool,” she said with a grin from ear to ear. “But how does it do on-road?”

“Flip that same switch again!”

She did as I said, and you could see, and feel the truck firm up again. It took a moment for the air-bags to inflate, but once they did, you could tell the truck was serious business on the street.

“You want to follow me back to the house?” she asked, pointing to the Viper.

I nodded, and hopped into the Viper. We made our way up the twisty road leading to her place, and I could tell from how hard I had to drive the Viper, that she was really flogging the Hummer to see what it could do.

We made it safely to her house and once there she couldn’t get the smile off her face as she saw the gas gauge in the Hummer was doing the same thing the Viper’s did. With her fuel mileage improved, she should be safe from the Eco-Nazi’s, for now, anyway. After I showed her how to hook up the still, Gertie called us to another great dinner. I jokingly made the comment that if the day ever came that Jen didn’t want her any more, to look me up, I’d take her services in a heartbeat. This caused them both to laugh, since they weren’t really boss/worker, they were friends.

I stayed in one of the guest rooms again, and found myself having trouble breathing in the middle of the night. I woke up with a start, to find Gillie curled up on my pillow, with his tail over my nose. I didn’t want to wake him, so I just brushed the tail away, and went back to sleep. I did, however, have another problem when I went to get dressed in the morning. My slippers were M.I.A. when I went to put them on, so I had to settle for a pair of socks to join Jen and Gertie for breakfast.

“Aren’t your feet cold?” Jen asked me, looking at my socks.

“Yeah, they are, but someone is playing a trick on me.” I looked at her with a smirk, “Alright, Miss Funny Girl, where did you hide my slippers?”

“Was Gillie in your room last night?” she asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yes, but I didn’t really mind that,” I told her. “Where are my slippers, Jen?” I asked almost laughing myself, because this was getting stupid.

“If you look under the bed, you’ll probably find them there. If not, look in the room across the hall. Gillie likes to hide mine there sometimes.”

“Oh, sure, blame the fur-ball, when poor Gillie can’t defend himself to say he didn’t do it.”

“She’s not joking, Miss Toni.” Gertie piped up in Jen’s defense. “He really does like to hide slippers. Why, poor Miss Alexis had hers taken right off her feet while she slept one time.”

“Who’s Alexis?” I asked Jen, not sure if it was a friend from back home, or who it was.

“Oh, just my good friend Alexis Finster.,” she told me with a wink at Gertie.

“Finster?” I asked with a bit of confusion. “Is’t that the real last name of that woman who plays in that detective show based in Boston? What the heck is the name of that show?” I asked out loud to my self.

“Erin Flynn,” Jen told me with a knowing smile.

“Wait a minute. You mean Alexis Eden, is Alexis Finster? She’s the one your cat stole slippers off of?” I asked in shock.

“Of course now you know, I need to kill you now.” Jen told me rather dryly. “You know too much,” which cause her to break out in a giggle.

“You really run in some powerful circles, Jen,” I told her with a smirk of sadness. “I feel honored just to know you.”

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” she asked, as she put her hand under my chin to raise it up.

“I just feel like I don’t really belong.” I told her.

“Belong where?” she asked confused.

“Here.” I told her. “With you ... in this house. I mean, you’re a movie actress, slash director, slash producer. You hang out with big Hollywood stars, and I’m just a mechanic from Syracuse.”

“No, you’re a Hockey player from Santa Fe, who saved my bacon with the Eco-Nazis,” she told me sternly. “You have some great talents, Toni. No one was willing to take on the challenge of converting my Hummer for me. You not only did that, but you improved my Viper, so I won’t catch as much flack about driving that, either.”

“I was just trying to help,” I told her sheepishly.

“I’m serious. West Coast Customs, GAS, and Chip Foose, all turned me down when I asked if it could be done. But you went and proved them wrong,” she told me, as she pulled me into a friendly hug. “You did what they said couldn’t be done.”

“You aren’t going to go all Jerry Reed on me now are you?” I asked with sniffle and a giggle.

“No, I’ve never really been a big fan of Smokey and the Bandit. Now Jerry Reed on the other hand, put out some great music.” she told me, joining my giggle. “Look. I’m just a regular girl, just like you.”

“Yeah, right.” I told her. “You’re just a regular girl who owns her own company and produces her own movies. And, I might point out, you direct and have hosted, Around Midnight.”

“And?” she asked.

“And what?” I asked, thinking I’d forgotten something.

“And you think that makes me any better than you?”

“Well, you are more successful than I am.”

“You’re just starting out. Give it a month or so. Once word gets out about what you did for me, you’ll probably have to start your own business, and hire a bunch of people just to keep up with the demand for custom conversions,” she told me with a smile.

“Seriously?” I asked in shock.

“Yeah. I know a lot of people who’ve been looking to have done what you did for me.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I only did yours to help you out as a friend. I don’t know if I can handle running a business.”

“You’ll do fine,” she told me confidently.

“I know fuck all about running a business, Jen.”

“Well, maybe I can help you find someone to keep things in order for you.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told her as I caught sight of the clock. “I should probably be getting on the road. Can you drop me off at the bus station?” I asked her.

“For what?” she asked me.

“How am I going to get home?”

“The studio jet, but that isn’t until tomorrow,” she told me.

“Why tomorrow?” I asked her a bit confused now.

“Because we have an interview to do with the folks from Peterson Publishing.”

“What? The folks that own Hot Rod Magazine?” I asked her.

“That and 4x4,” she told me proudly. “I called them and they want to do a piece on both my cars.”

“So what do you need me for?”

“You’re the one who did the modifications, so you can answer any questions they have,” she told me with a smile.

“You’re the boss. Just as long as I don’t have to pose in a bikini.” That caused both of us to giggle.

"I can just see it now. Calendars of you in assorted bikinis posing with tools and fast cars on the wall of every auto parts and repair shop in the country. A sexy calendar girl that really knows her equipment!"

To be continued.

Jen Stevens appears courteously of Bob Arnold. All rights reserved. ©

*Nurburgring; A race track in Germany that consists of 175 turns.

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Comments

Another great chapter Toni.

Another great chapter Toni. This just keeps getting better and better, I can't wait for the next installment.

Melanie

Toni, Great Chapter In An Most Excellent Series

You show great technical knowledge in Automotive Technology. Your stories have brought the worlds of N.A.S.C.A.R. and Hockey into the Big Closet. Your love for racing and hockey show through in your series. I can see you as either the driver or crew chief. Being from the South, reading your series has deepened my appreciation for those who support the drivers.
May Your Light Forever Shine

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

no.... Thank you.

It's because of the readers that I've kept this story going. I'm glad I've been able to touch so many people with what I've written.

Now, as for your idea, I WAS a crew chief on a miget car out in Arizona for a season. That was after my stint in NASCAR as a mechanic, and then dad got sick. Once he was able to function on his own, I took the job out west. I ended up coming home when his kidney that he had transplanted a few years back, started acting up again.

Do I miss it? It's not as cut and dry as a yes or no answer. I DO miss the travel, and being at the track. The smells and sounds there, are something a gearhead can never get out of their system. What I DON'T miss, are the 20 hour days. I worked for some smaller teams, and the crew had to turn double duty. Working on the cars at both the track and at the shop during the week. It starts to wear on you after a while. But that being said, if the right offer came up.... say from Terry O'Connell, I'd jump at the chance to go back in a heartbeat.

Much love, for all my readers.
Toni

Totally Interesting

Toni,
I really like the Ecology line to this chapter. Where do I or others go to see about conversion kits? I would like to convert my 2005 T&C van to run both E-85 and gas. Sadly Chrysler didn't see fit to set up in-house until just recently. With only 34,000 miles on my van, and all the cross country driving my family does, it would be very beneficial, at least to me. Again, an excellent story with a true learning experience behind it. Many thanks, Janice

Great story!

I just finished reading the series (so far,) and I am enjoying it. I enjoy the mixture of the different elements, and the way that you make things like hockey, frats, and racing interesting even to those who wouldn't find them interesting. I like the way you aren't afraid of getting into the technical stuff. Hey, there are enough nerds around to enjoy the nitty-gritty details.

By the way, there are a couple other tricks that Toni can try with the Hummer. It's possible to feed diesel fuel at an idle rate, and bleed gas (propane, methane, or whatever) into the intake. This makes the diesel go a long way, and allows it to run on cleaner (and potentially cheaper) gaseous fuels. Methane, for instance, can be easily created from biomass by bacterial action -- much the same way a septic tank or swamp does it. I have often jokingly talked about 'fart powered' vehicles. ;-)

Ray Drouillard

Time

Cavridernunya@yahoo.com Now is the time to continue this great story !

Cavrider----Just another " Grunt."