The next morning, Hook and I get out the mule and use it to tow Miss Chief over to the main shop. Yeah, there’s a lift here in the clubhouse, but it’s a smaller one and I don’t trust it to hold Miss Chief. I also found Chief’s Miss Chief notebook, which contains every little detail of her construction and maintenance needs (except for why she is alive, of course, that bit remains a mystery), which is pretty awesome, because if anything needs to be replaced, I won’t have to randomly try two hundred different parts from fifty different shelves to find the one that fits. Hooray!
Even being towed, I can tell she’s excited to be moving. She also feels a whole lot lighter and more nimble than I expected for her size and obvious weight. I expected her to be more like a pissed off school bus, but she feels more like a race car, which she is, but I mean one that is designed to go around corners as well as in a straight line… which she would not appear to be. From what I can see, she has to weigh at least ten thousand pounds, probably more. Just the engine is something like twenty five hundred. But, considering the size of the hydrogen tank on the back, a full load is going to add a significant amount of buoyancy, which might help explain those mile and a half long burnouts.
It takes some doing, but she allows herself to be maneuvered onto a lift. Ok, at least she’s not fighting it. Before I hoist her up, I sit down and start reading Chief’s notebook. I’m going to be here for a while. At least his handwriting is pretty similar to mine, so it’s easy for me to read.
It takes hours, but it’s a fascinating read. A lot of the math in here is over my head, but then, much of it does not appear to be in Chief’s hand, so maybe it was over his, too. Finally, near the back of the book, there is a section titled ‘Preflight Checklist’. The first item on it is BRAKES!
It takes me about a week and a half to get through the checklist. It’s five pages long and I don’t want to skip a step because, you know, pushing two hundred miles an hour down a concrete hallway on the moon, that’s about five miles long and maybe just wide enough for two deuce and a half’s to pass each other in without scraping each other or the wall, in fucking Tyrannosaurus Rod over there, is not something to fuck about with. In the very back of the book are some notes on the runs Chief made in her. Apparently there were eleven, once a month for almost a year before he left. Pretty cool stuff, and there’s even room for me to add my own, which I absolutely intend to do. Gotta keep history alive, man! But the thing that sticks in my mind the most, is a short notation in a slightly shaky hand . . . Ease off the throttle at the T, Ease on the brakes at the gas station, DON’T GO THROUGH THE WALL! I will definitely keep that in mind.
We’re finally ready, so that night at Door 42 I tell the gang. And there is much rejoicing! Very little drinking or carousing though, as everyone wants to be up early to help set up and watch the run. I lie in bed with my eyes closed, but I can’t tell if I sleep.
We tow her down to the clubhouse end of the hall with the mule, and empty the mule’s tank into her. Then make two more trips to get her full. Boy, when she says Feed Me! She’s not kidding! Hook runs the mule back down to the T, where he gets ready to take pictures with his pocket smartglass. Everyone else is down there too, except for Shorty. She brought her bike down here to be with me when I wake up Miss Chief. She wants to be up close and personal with her.
“You wanna sit in here with me while I warm her up?” I ask as I’m strapping myself in.
“Hell yes I do!” she almost, but not quite, squeals with glee, as she opens Miss Chief’s passenger door and slides into the right hand seat.
Miss Chief doesn’t seem to mind, her and Shorty are cool, and she’s excited and ready to party!
“Yeah.. baby.. let’s.. DO IT!!!!” says Miss Chief as I press the start button. And the world is vibrating again.
“WOW, IT’S SO SMOOTH IN HERE!” shouts Shorty. I can’t hear a sound other than Miss Chief, but I can tell by the exaggerated movement of her lips.
This feels so good! Why did it take me so long? Why did I ever leave in the first place? Why would I want to? I don’t! I rev Her engine to get some heat into it now that the oil is flowing. The world outside is moving at funny angles again, and the vibration feels SO GOOD! I look over at Shorty to see what she thinks of it.
“OH GOD, THE VIBRATION,” she mouths emptily, “I THINK I’M GONNA BE SICK!” and she barely makes it out the door. Once she finds her feet, sort of, she is skittering around like a drop of water in a hot skillet because of how the floor is shaking. She pets Miss Chief on the roof and mouths, “IT’S OK MISS CHIEF, HE’S ALL YOURS! JUST BRING HIM BACK IN ONE PIECE!” then backs off and waves to Sweet Thing down at the T.
There are four foot wide red lines painted at the one and three quarter and two and three quarter mile points in the hall. I’d been wondering what those were for. Sweet Thing will flag me off (it’s a big flag, so I can see it from here) and time me between those points. A flying mile. That gives me a mile and three quarters to get going and two and a quarter miles to not go through the wall. I hope it’s enough. And I’m not worried about getting going.
Sweet Thing drops the flag and I set the tach needle at 1200 (per Chief’s notes) and start to release the clutch, as soon as it even thinks about beginning to engage, the tires are smoking furiously! This bitch has long legs but SO MUCH TORQUE! I give up and just side step it, finesse is not going to help here. I am pressed back into my seat and then… Second gear, Ouch! I’ve got to remember to keep my head against the headrest . . . Third gear, Fuck, I’m still spinning the tires and I’m trying to ease into it, it’s not helping (or maybe it is, if I just planted my foot down I’d probably be into the wall two gears ago) . . . Fourth gear, Holy Shit! It’s like riding a wet bar of soap with a rocket on the back! But now I’m on top of the mountain and the ground speed is catching up with the wheel speed and then we’re hooked up and . . . Approaching Pucker Factor 10! The hallway appears to be shaking forty five degrees in either direction from true now, a ninety degree swing!
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OH YES… FASTER… FASTER… I AM YOU… YOU ARE ME… KEEP ME… JOIN ME… TAKE ME WITH YOU… THROUGH THE WALL!!!!
And Holy Shit I’m at the T! Hook has been taking pictures, and though he was standing far back, the shaking floor has rattled him out so far that as I begin to ease off the throttle I bathe him in exhaust flames and see the reflection of my face in his smartglass. He is that close.
I have to slow down! I don’t want to slow down! I want to go through the wall! (FUCK YOU CHIEF, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! screams my brain) Alright! You Asshole! I have to ease off the throttle carefully. If I just let off entirely the tail will get light and she’ll swap ends, I can feel it. Less, less, less, pucker factor dropping, dropping, dropping, off.
Fuck! The gas station! Brake, brake, gently brake, more, more, more…
NO… NO… TAKE ME WITH YOU… THROUGH THE WALL… PLEASE!!!!
Shit! Wall! THESE BRAKES SUUUUCK!
Then… Sliding, sliding, sliding, bonk!
Miss Chief’s front tires gently bounce off the wall and… I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE I FUCKING LIVED THROUGH THAT SHIT! HOLY SHIT! I FUCKING RULE!
I switch her off and she says, “AWWWwww I WAnna goooo……”
I open the door and she says, “Tease!” I can feel her disappointment. But right now I could give a fuck.
I step out, and the moon has not ripped in half, which is kind of surprising… but I may need a fresh set of trousers, which is really not.
I walk over and examine the wall, and there’s a fresh set of black marks on it. Right next to the old ones. They could be, no, they are, twins. Thanks for the note Chief, that really helped!
I straighten up and check my crotch before the others get here with the mule to tow us back, just to see what the damage is and… Hell! I didn’t piss myself, I had an orgasm! And I didn’t even notice! What a rip off, I’m gonna have to talk to my body about that!
Hook and Punk motor down in the mule. Punk leaps out and runs over, leaping up on me like a spider monkey in a wildly enthusiastic, victorious bro hug.
“Sweet Satan’s Ass, that was fast!” he pants, “How did it feel?”
“I’d have to say,” I think for a second, “Terrifying.”
Hook walks over and shakes me by the hand, “Allow me to say that you have the largest balls I have ever seen on any being I have ever encountered, human or otherwise! Big, shiny, brass ones! Well done!”
“Yes,” I say, “And I’m sure they’ll be descending from my throat any time now,” I cough.
“Let’s get you two turned around and drug back to the T,” says Hook, “We’ve got a picture to take!”
After thirty or forty minutes, Miss Chief is parked at the T. Hook and Punk are unhooking the tow strap to move the mule out of frame, when someone I haven’t seen before walks out of Door 42. Shorty spots her, too.
“Hey, D’jleena,” she shouts, pelting off down the hallway and flagging her down, “Come give us a hand with something real quick!” She reaches the girl, they exchange a few words, and Shorty starts leading her back to us. Shorty is a sight to behold right now. Positively beaming, and coated from head to toe in little specks of rubber from being behind Miss Chief when we launched. I’m not worried about her jumpsuit, but I hope they come off of her skin easily enough that they don’t take any with it.
The new girl, D’jleena, is an inch or so shorter than Shorty, broader, and much rounder. Not fat at all, and certainly not unattractive, her whole body is a compact mass of compound curves, the kind your eyes want to follow. Her picture should be in the dictionary next to the word ‘Voluptuous’. She has long, straight black hair, and looks to be possibly Indian.
Shorty grabs Hook’s smartglass and hands it to D’jleena, then everybody takes positions around Miss Chief. I am standing behind her open, driver’s door to cover the wet spot on my pants with an ‘I can’t believe I lived through this shit’ smile on my face. Hey, it’s all starting to make sense now!
“Ok! Got it!” says D’jleena. She has a really funky accent that I can’t place. It sounds almost like she’s swallowing the words, speaking in instead of out. But that can’t be right. Still, it reminds me of… something.
She hands the smartglass back to Shorty, then leans in and speaks to her quietly for a moment.
When Shorty comes back, she hands the smartglass back to Hook and says, “We’ll see you guys at the Door once you get Miss Chief put to bed. Me and Mama here have to go talk to D’jleena about some stuff,” then she hooks an arm around Mama, walks back to D’jleena, and they all head back to Door 42.
As we’re hooking the mule back up, Punk asks me, “What do you think that was about?”
“Relationship tip number 23,” I say, “Let them have their girl time. We don’t need to know. If they think we do need to know, they’ll yell it at us in an angry voice.”
“That’s about right,” laughs Hook.
Forty five minutes later Miss Chief is tucked away all snug in her bed, with visions of racing through a concrete wall a’dance in her head. We have stabled the mule, and jeeped our way back to Door 42, where I am now dining heartily on a large scotch and cigarette sandwich. It is delicious and extremely satisfying after today’s near life experience.
D’jleena is gone, but Shorty and Mama are talking quietly down at the end of the bar. They seem ok, just, involved, and I knows better than to stick my nose in between those two. Unless they ask for it, of course. Then I’m all over that shit.
Punk, Cracker, Sweet Thing, and Hook are at a table. Sweet Thing has a notepad and a pencil and is doing the math off of her stopwatch.
“Oh my!” she says, glancing over at me, “Hook, double check me, will you?” and slides the notepad and pencil over.
“Sure,” and he goes over the page for a minute, “Well I’ll be dipped…” he gives me a brief look of, approval? Then slides the pad over to Cracker.
She taps her way through the different calculations, then says, “Wow!” and slides the pad in front of Punk, and puts her head next to his.
He follows her finger down the page, then says, “No shit! It’s right!” They slide the pad back over to Sweet Thing, nodding in agreement.
“Hey Chief, c’mere for a minute!” hollers Sweet Thing to me at my seat at the bar.
The place is packed tonight and everybody’s pretty worked up from Miss Chief, so while it’s not exactly roaring in here, the volume knob is definitely turned up. I am thankful, and a little surprised, that people have been giving me a minute to come down from the ride. Then again, they all felt the whole building try to do a backflip, too. So maybe they get it. I stand up and walk over to their table.
“Who the fuck are you!” Punk jumps up, facing me, then turns around, “Hey, everybody!” the volume in the bar doesn’t go off, but it gets turned way down real fast, “Who the fuck is this guy?” he hollers at the room, then grabs me around the shoulders in a sideways hug and shakes me a bit, “I’ll tell you who the fuck he is! He’s Chief! The fastest man on the moon! 201.1 miles per hour in the flying mile!” He gives me a bro kiss on the cheek, “I love this guy!”
And the whole place erupts! Shorty and Mama run over, grab me on either side, and lean in and kiss my cheeks. Hook takes a picture. When I see it later, I’m standing there with a drink in my hand, two pretty girls kissing me, and a stupid look on my face. It’s pretty good!
The rest of the night is a blur of smiling faces, shaking hands, claps on the back from guys, kisses from girls, and booze, and cigarettes, and more booze. What a party!
I wake up late the next day, feeling kinda rough. I’m in the apartment over the bar, apparently I was too thrashed to make it home last night, which is ok, that’s what this place is for, right? You stay too late, you get too drunk, you make too much noise… That’s why they call it a Party! And at its central core, that’s really what Door 42 is all about.