It's 3:45 in the morning, I'm just outside of some city on some street somewhere in America. Racing against time racing for no other reason than to hear the sounds of this engine screaming in the twilight. I feel my heart pound with every street light I blast by at one hundred-sixty three miles per hour I am alive.as the tack climbs towards the red line the car shows its true colors pure alchemy. I'm running on just four cylinders in a car that was once as docile as the one my father once drove me to school in as a child. This car this machine given divine rank to be so much more than the metal it is made of. As for the driver I'm just human with gasoline running in my veins fueled by dreams driven by passion free to fly across the land on wheels of hope and a car that has my essence burned into its very soul. The human and the machine each one a reflection of the other. I am no one you would know of but like thousands of people like me I have a passion thast is every bit as extreme as the speeds in which I can obtain. We are the enigma of the modern automotive world. A group of people thought to be extinct after the glory days of the American muscle car, we are reborn with a new face and a new body but the same spirit. story's have been written movies have been made and all in speculation of a culture that this nation does not truly understand. Let us tell you the true story not from the ten o-clock news perspective or flashy Hollywood films. But from the heart of racers from across this country