Having my new hot ride,  I decided to get down to the local street races every weekend like it was church.  My buddies and I all had our little pocket rockets, and met quite a few new friends down at the races.  The tickets rolled in like wild fire.  It was a daily activity, talking to cops and laughing it off since I had my traffic lawyer buddy, who helped me out since I sent down so much business.  Race after race after race,  I was pumping everyone on the street.  The MR2 with HKS exhaust, intake, and a little boost knob was all I needed to bring her down into the 13's.   One weekend we went down and I decided to race a brand new Corvette C5.  We lined up and the whole pack was there watching. Needless to say, I was nervous and "WHAT A RUSH".   I jumped the Vette about a car out of the hole, and one hell of a shift into second, pulled another car!  But ego got the better of me, and the Vette passed me by the end of third gear.  Everyone thought I took the Vette, which wasn't bad.  It was quite a close race, and I was pretty happy with the results in the long run, but still a little pissed about my first loss.  This is when I decided it wasn't enough, & speed being the most addictive drug in the