Woke up thinking about the future.
Not in a vague way. Specific. I had Savanna, who was definitely going to happen, I just had not made the move yet. But first I was going to make a video.
* * *
I put the cars side by side on the empty stretch past the industrial park. Candy red Z on the left, matte black Charger on the right. Stood back and looked at them for a second before I hit record.
The Z was deep glossy red with a carbon hood, widebody fenders flared out over chrome mesh wheels, sitting slammed to the ground. The Charger next to it was all matte black, flat and heavy, widebody arches, murdered out wheels, no shine anywhere. Two completely different things.
I walked the camera around the Z first. Popped the carbon hood.
350Z. LS swap, 5.3 liter out of a Silverado, single 76 millimeter turbo, custom manifold, external wastegate, front-mount intercooler. Around 480 wheel on 15 pounds of boost. Have not turned it up yet. On the street this car steers with the rear. You use the throttle to tell it where to go. It is loud, the AC barely works, it is not comfortable. What it does is go sideways on command and sound like something illegal. That is the point.
Then the Charger. Walked it the same way, the matte black eating the light flat with no reflection.
Charger SRT 392 widebody. 6.4 liter Hemi, 485 factory. Intake, exhaust, tune. Around 510 at the wheel now. 305s in the rear, Brembos up front. All black everything. Where the Z is built to go sideways this car is built to go straight. That is the whole conversation.
* * *
I mounted cameras on both dashes and ran the 0-60s back to back.
Z first. Clutch drop at 4500, rear stepped out, caught it, turbo screaming through second and third. Hit sixty around three and a half.
Charger. Launch control, let go, all four biting, that Hemi roaring and the front going light under the pull. Sixty in 3.4. It barely felt like it was working.
Two runs each. Done.
I sat on the hood of the Z, locs hanging, and looked at the camera one more time.
Two philosophies. The Z is art. The Charger is a statement. I like both. Speed is speed. How you get there is personal.
* * *
I drove the Charger home, locked it up, and Ubered back to the road to get the Z.
Sat in the Z for a second with the engine running.
Then I drove to Savanna's.
I am not going to pretend I did not know what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted to get her hooked on the idea of me then i would start showering her with material things she would be useful.
I knocked.
Seven answered, looked past me at the Z in the driveway, and her eyes went wide.
She got her mom.
* * *
Savanna came to the door in a tank top and sweats, hair loose, and she stopped when she saw the car.
She looked at it for a long moment. Then she looked at me.
You drove that here to show me.
I came to see if you wanted to go for a drive.
She looked at the car again. Then back at me. Then she said give her five minutes and went back inside.
She came back in seven. Hair still loose but she had changed into jeans and a fitted top and she smelled like she had put something on. She locked the front door and walked to the passenger side and got in.
I started the engine.
The 5.3 fired up and she felt it through the seat and said nothing, just put her hand on the door and looked straight ahead.
I pulled off slow.
Then I got on the freeway and I did not pull off slow anymore.
She grabbed the door handle at about eighty and laughed and said oh my God and I kept going. The turbo was singing and the candy red hood was shaking and she had one hand braced on the dash and she was still laughing.
We drove for forty minutes. She asked me things about the car and I answered them. She had the window down and her hair was everywhere and she did not care. At one point she looked over at me and just shook her head like she was still deciding something.
I took the surface streets back.
When I pulled up to her house she sat there for a second after I cut the engine.
That was the best car I have ever been in.
I smiled. Come over and tell me that again sometime.
She looked at me. Okay.
She got out and went inside.
I sat there for a second. Then I drove home.
I want to be real about this because Jordan would not be.
He showed up at that woman's house in a car that looked like that on purpose. He knew what it would do. Jordan has understood since he was young that how you arrive somewhere tells people a story before you open your mouth, and he has always been very deliberate about the story he tells. Some people call that charm. Some people call it manipulation. The honest answer is it is both at the same time and he has never lost sleep over which one it was. The thing is, he also genuinely liked her. That is the complicated part. It was never purely calculated. He just did not see any reason not to use every tool he had while also genuinely showing up. Whether that makes him a good person or not I honestly could not tell you. He is my brother. I stopped trying to sort that out a long time ago.
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY