Unfortunately, Franklin wasn't listening to Megan at all. His entire focus was locked on his ride, a first-generation Dodge Challenger.
As the countdown hit zero and the race queen dropped the flag, most of the cars shot forward like arrows leaving a bow.
Megan couldn't help but let out a scream. She originally thought she was brave enough that a car race wouldn't scare her.
(1970 Dodge Challenger)
Turns out, the blonde news anchor had overestimated her courage. Luckily, Franklin wasn't affected by Megan's reaction and kept the car perfectly under control.
Out of the 16 cars, Franklin's was absolutely the oldest. The first-generation Dodge Challenger was a model released in 1970.
It was roughly the same age as the Dodge Charger 500 sitting in Dom's garage—older than many of the drivers here tonight.
Plus, Franklin was dead broke. He even had to borrow the entry fee, so naturally, he couldn't afford massive modifications like Lawson did. Unsurprisingly, his Dodge Challenger quickly fell to the back of the pack.
Leading the pack was Martin's Porsche 911.
That Porsche 911 had clearly been modified and tuned by a master; its straight-line acceleration was leaps and bounds ahead of the others.
Fortunately, this wasn't a drag race, so the other cars still had a chance to win.
However, one car was acting highly unusual. After the other 15 cars took off, only this one remained parked at the starting line.
"Huh! Did that Dodge Viper SRT-10 break down? Why isn't it moving?"
The surrounding crowd also looked at the purple sports car curiously.
"Little Lawson, why aren't you starting the car?"
Inside the Dodge Viper, Svafa looked at Lawson's charming profile.
"No rush! Going to give them a 20-second head start. Otherwise, it won't be a challenge!"
Lawson's confident face gave Svafa an intoxicated look. She felt herself becoming more and more obsessed with this younger man.
Watching his watch tick down, the moment 20 seconds passed, Lawson hit the nitrous oxide system right off the line, rocketing away from the start like a missile.
Bob's commentary came through the radio.
"Ladies and gentlemen, with the Dodge Viper SRT-10 finally moving, all drivers have officially started! After the first corner, the leading pack has already formed: the Porsche 911 (Martin), Mazda RX-7 FD3S (Dom), and Honda S2000 (Johnny Tran)!"
Before the race, every car was fitted with a networked GPS tracker. Bob was using these trackers to call the race in real-time.
As you could see, there wasn't a single American car in the leading pack; in fact, there were two Japanese cars.
Since the 1980s, American cars had been in absolute decline due to poor fuel economy and high prices. Otherwise, America wouldn't have slapped import restrictions on Japanese cars.
But after facing those restrictions, Japanese automakers simply shifted to developing higher-margin luxury cars, which ended up taking a massive chunk out of the high-end American car market anyway.
Tonight, nearly half the drivers were racing Japanese cars. Only Lawson and Franklin were driving American muscle cars from the Dodge lineup.
And both were driving older models. Lawson's Dodge Viper SRT-10 was a first-generation from '92, and Franklin's Challenger was even older—a classic from 1970.
"The Porsche 911 is holding onto first place with sheer horsepower, while the Mazda RX-7 FD3S and Honda S2000 are fiercely battling for second, constantly swapping positions! It's incredibly tight! Wait, what's going on?"
Bob stared wide-eyed at his screen, his face full of disbelief.
"What the fuck! Does he have a death wish? The Dodge Viper SRT-10 is entering the first major hairpin at 220 miles per hour! Is the tracker broken, or is the driver actually insane?"
Inside the Viper, Svafa was having the exact same thought. She considered herself a veteran of countless dangerous situations in her career, but she had never experienced anything like this.
Consequently, Svafa let out a long, piercing scream. Meanwhile, Lawson—who was driving—yanked the handbrake and executed a flawless inertia drift, sliding right through the corner.
Bob was clearly a highly professional racing commentator. He quickly figured it out based on the Viper's average cornering speed of over 120 mph.
"I get it! The driver of the Dodge Viper must be using inertia drifting to take the corners! That definitely works well on certain turns, but pulling that kind of stunt with a Dodge Viper... can the tires actually handle it?"
The origins of drifting are highly debated, but the most common theory is that it started in the 1960s in either Japan or Germany.
Japan popularized the technique globally in the 80s, turning it into an incredibly visual racing style.
Over in China, most people probably know about drifting thanks to a certain anime—the one with the AE86 going down the mountain and the Mercedes ending up in a tree.
However, in real professional racing, drivers use drifting extremely cautiously because it puts massive stress on the tires.
In real life, drifting doesn't fill up a nitrous bar, and tires don't have infinite durability.
So once the tires wear down too much and lose grip, it severely impacts race performance.
Plus, on many corners, drifting isn't actually faster than following the racing line.
But Lawson wasn't worried about that at all because he had the Gearhead Trump Card.
The Dodge Viper he was driving felt like an extension of his own body. He could clearly feel the exact wear and tear on the tires, allowing him to make optimal adjustments.
That was something no other driver could ever do.
Therefore, Lawson dared to take corners in the most extreme, borderline insane ways—even hitting the nitrous the second he exited a turn.
Yeah, he was basically treating Need for Speed like Mario Kart.
Under this completely unhinged driving strategy, Lawson's Dodge Viper quickly erased the 20-second head start he had given everyone else.
Coincidentally, the car directly in front of him right now was Franklin's Dodge Challenger.
It wasn't that Franklin was a bad driver; his car just really couldn't keep up. Even though he calculated optimal braking points and entry angles before every turn, taking the perfect racing line through the corners.
But a massive gap in vehicle performance wasn't something skill alone could overcome.
Seeing the Dodge Viper roaring up behind him at terrifying speed made Franklin incredibly envious.
Megan, in the passenger seat, had finally recovered from her initial terror. She excitedly slapped Franklin's shoulder.
"Franklin! Franklin! Do you remember? The driver of that purple Dodge Viper—we saw him near the scene of the May 1st LA freeway loop incident! He's definitely the driver of that blue sedan!"
Unfortunately, Franklin was in no mood to listen to Megan. There was a section of consecutive tight corners coming up, and he needed to focus entirely on his racing line.
Right at that moment, the two cars ahead seemed determined to block Lawson's Viper. They took the corner side-by-side, completely choking off the track, which forced Franklin to slow down as well.
However, the Dodge Viper didn't slow down at all.
Megan's eyes went wide.
"Is he insane?"