Need for Speed (6 page)

He backed the truck up to the garage's main door.

On the back was a car that looked vaguely like a Mustang, but it was sitting on blocks and many of its key components were missing. It was far from being a completed car.

It was in such a state of disassembly it took a while just to get it off the flatbed and into the garage.

But once that was done, the doors of the garage were closed behind it—and from that point on, Marshall Motors would never be the same again.

Part Two

Four

THE FIRST THING
the Marshall Motors crew did in the Mustang rebuild project was treat themselves to a steak dinner.

It was an easy decision. Shortly after taking possession of the Shelby Mustang, they found an envelope stuck in the driver's-side sunshade. Inside was a credit card from one of Dino's father's businesses. An attached Post-it note read, “For all reasonable expenses . . .”

The crew immediately piled into Tobey's Gran Torino and headed for Applebee's, where all five ordered the most expensive item on the menu: the 12-ounce New York strip steak. As they drank a never-ending stream of beer, they sat in a corner table and, keeping their voices down, mapped out what they wanted to do, and more important, what they
had
to do, to make the whole thing work.

They quickly realized their number one priority had to be security. This was for several reasons. First, although they were now, improbably, working for Dino, they still didn't trust him. They knew it would not be beyond him to claim the gang had stolen the ultra-exclusive, one of a kind car. His visit to them after the box race had been caught on the garage's security cameras, as had Big Al's delivery of the Mustang itself the next day. Still, they knew they had to be careful and document everything just in case it was all an elaborate ambush set up by Dino.

Secondly, considering that the car they were going to build might have a price tag of $2 million or more, they needed to make sure everything they were doing stayed not just on the down low, and not just below the radar. Their activities had to be off the radar completely.

Again, this was just an exercise in playing it smart. They were well aware that there were some people in the local street racing culture who, if they heard something big was happening at Marshall Motors, something involving the late god Carroll Shelby, wouldn't think twice about breaking into the garage and stealing whatever it was. They also didn't want word to leak out to the underground racing media, Monarch included, because that might bring the same unwanted attention on a national scale.

So what they needed was security on a military scale. That's why they gave the job to Benny.

* * *

They spent their first full day of work on the rebuild closing down and sealing off two of the garage's four repair bays. The excuse, for anyone who asked, was that they were repairing and then repainting them. To this end, they draped blue plastic tarpaulins around the two bays, stretching them from ceiling to floor. They taped newspaper around the two windows that could look into the cordoned-off bays, and randomly sprayed some paint on the newspaper to make it look like they were in fact doing some painting within.

Next, Benny upgraded their security cameras to include an audio pickup. Then, he installed an upscale burglar alarm that came complete with infrared capability and motion detection equipment. He did all of this without advertising the upgrade by applying warning stickers on the outside doors and walls. They all agreed: If they were going to catch someone sneaking in, they wanted to do it quietly, so they could deal with it the same way.

Benny also advised them to not talk to anyone about what they were doing, even in a peripheral way. Loose lips sink ships, he told them over and over—and they knew completely buttoning up on the project would be in their best interest. They would continue doing business as usual at the garage—changing oil, giving out inspection stickers, doing tune-ups. They would work on the project mostly at night and into the morning, before the dwindling number of customers who still frequented the place showed up.

They even put into place a system where any overly exotic part that they needed, something not usually used in a typical civilian car, would be bought only from a rotating file of online dealers, as opposed to ordering it through the local NAPA auto parts store. That place, they knew, was a potential nest of spies.

Benny was so precise that he even came up with a system of how they would dispose of parts and used debris that could be traced back to the Shelby. Instead of throwing it all away in the Marshall Motors Dumpster, providing valuable clues to what they were up to, he had them load it all into garbage bags, which he then disposed of at various other Dumpsters around town.

As he told them many times, “This is how the CIA would do it.”

* * *

They worked out a schedule of two men on, two men off, with Pete being the swingman. Two mechanics would be on hand during regular business hours to do the everyday Marshall Motors grunt work, while two would come in after closing and work on the supercar—which had been put up on the lift in bay number three—through the night.

Little Pete showed up whenever he was needed, or at least that was the plan. In reality, he was there almost all the time, day or night. Next to Tobey, he put in the most hours on the project, as he knew it might lead to one of his visions actually coming true.

But in the end, the car was Tobey's baby. He frequently did double duty, working the garage during the day and then working the project all night. When they got near the end, to the point where they didn't have to work continual nights anymore, Tobey still stayed at the garage, sleeping next to the Mustang-in-progress, baseball bat always within reach, keeping watch.

By that point, he didn't want to leave it alone even for a minute.

* * *

The first thing they had to do after the car arrived was, surprisingly, get rid of a lot of the stuff that had come with it.

As beautiful as the overall design was—or had been intended to be by the late, great Carroll Shelby—by the time the car got into their hands, it had a lot of stock and inadequate equipment attached to it. Just why this was, they never found out. It might have been from a previous attempt to bring the car to life, or maybe someone else's stab at security, hiding the jewel under a bunch of cheap parts.

But whatever the case, a lot of it had to go.

The wheels, the tires, the driveshaft, even the reconditioned 302 engine, all went in the trash. Getting rid of the 302 was especially painful. It was a sweet motor, but way below the standard they needed to make their vision run. Plus they didn't want to hold on to anything that could link them back to the unique Shelby. So everything from the brakes to the axles, from the differential to the exhaust, and even the gas tank, was taken off, cut up into little pieces, and put into garbage bags for Benny to drop off all over the area.

Next, they needed a real engine, something befitting what they were trying to build. As everything was being paid for by Dino's credit card, the Marshall crew didn't care about expense. As long as it worked, they weren't going to be concerned where the green was coming from or how much of it they spent. They just had to keep hard and fast documentation on everything in case Dino reverted to his usual devilish ways.

So after doing some research they purchased a 5.8-liter Ford all-aluminum DOHC engine with aluminum heads. Once this powerhouse was on-site, they installed forged aluminum pistons and rods and attached a treated forged crankshaft to it. Everything went smoothly.

The cylinders went in next, after they were coated with plasma arc iron oxide to reduce friction. Then came the supercharger, a high volume oil pump, and a dry sump oil system, all bought online from Japan. They machined the heads to improve valve action, and even polished their interiors to get better airflow. Then they put in four high duration camshafts and eight huge fuel injectors along with special high volume fuel lines to keep the juice flowing when they needed it.

After fitting on long tube exhaust headers, it came down to the spark plugs. It took Tobey an entire day online trying to figure out which spark plugs to buy, and once they arrived, what their proper gapping width should be.

But once all these things had been done, the entire gang gathered inside bay number three, crossed their fingers en masse, and turned the temporary ignition switch. The engine came to life with a roar so loud, their heads hurt for days.

They didn't mind a bit, though. It was music to their ears.

* * *

Though the engine still needed some tweaking, right out of the gate it began running at more than 6,000
RPM
s, which they determined could translate to almost 750 horsepower, with a potential of 900. This, they knew, could mean the completed Mustang might reach a speed somewhere around 230 mph, an astonishing number that would have impressed Carroll Shelby himself.

In any case, it was an amazing achievement for the five glorified grease monkeys from Marshall Motors. They'd set out to create a monster, and that's exactly what they did.

* * *

But most monsters come with problems, and theirs was no different.

All the undercarriage work went well. They stiffened the chassis with heavy steel sub-frame connectors and installed top-of-the-line adjustable shocks and springs. They put a heavy-duty battery in the rear quarter of the trunk and installed a huge fuel pump plus booster and an overly large exhaust system. They thought the hardest task would be modifying the steering column to accommodate their gear shift paddles, which were installed on the steering wheel, eliminating the need for a stick shift and a clutch. But all that went well, too.

Then it came time to put in the driveshaft. They'd purchased one from the best dealer in the country, and had high hopes for a smooth installation. But no matter what they did, the custom shaft just would not fit.

They didn't know why. They'd checked and rechecked their measurements. Everything seemed okay. They checked their clearances—but again, nothing was askew. They spent three straight days and nights trying every way they knew to get the shaft connected, yet nothing worked. They even machined down the ends of the very expensive shaft, hoping to gain a few precious millimeters, but once again, it was no soap. And because they'd designed that portion of the drivetrain to fit this particular exotic driveshaft, there was no alternative out there for them to buy to replace it.

So they had to invent one.

Joe Peck and Finn pulled an all-nighter at the height of the crisis, and when Tobey came in the next morning, he found them both asleep or passed out—it was hard to tell which. But on the workstand was a new, completely original driveshaft they'd constructed out of carbon fiber material.

Tobey was astonished. They were all good at connecting things to cars, putting on parts bought from manufacturers, and making them go. But to manufacture something like this on their own?

He woke Joe long enough to have him swear the new driveshaft fit and would work. And as a bonus, it would lighten the overall weight of the car, a very important factor.

After a few hours' rest, they put the new piece of equipment to the test—and sure enough, it fit perfectly and ran perfectly.

It was that morning that Tobey knew something very special was happening inside Marshall Motors.

* * *

The brake work came next—never a favorite for any mechanic. But while it went slow—attaching fourteen-inch six-piston disc brake calipers and brake pads in the front and thirteen-inch ones in the back—it also went well. Everything worked after just a few adjustments. The wheels came next—hugely expensive, but critical, as they would have to hold on tight to the
enormously
expensive racing tires the crew had bought.

But that's when their monster became cranky again.

It happened the day they put the engine inside the car—this was to be a huge step toward completion. After weeks of working on the motor and the body separately, now the car would be getting its 700 horsepower–plus heart.

The engine went in fine—but when they tried to put the hood on, it was a no-go. The supercharger they'd installed was just a little too big and the hood they'd purchased a little too small. It just wouldn't close.

They tried every adjustment they could think of, including lowering a lot of the gear sitting on top of the engine, but it was futile. The fucking hood just would not fit. Of all the things to go wrong, they never saw this one coming.

Now what? They'd waited four weeks for the custom-made hood to arrive. They couldn't bear waiting another month for a new one, even if they could find one to fit.

So Joe Peck and Finn went back into their mad-scientist mode—this time with Tobey helping out. It took twenty-four hours straight of hard work, but they fashioned a completely new hood, once again from carbon fiber, making it sleek and workable.

It was then that Tobey thought,
Maybe we're actually getting good at this.

* * *

Everything ran smoothly after that—at least for a while. The electrical system went in with no problems. The same was true for the fuel lines, the wiring harnesses, and the cooling system.

It was a happy day when all five of them pitched in to mask off the car for its primer coats, and then, with Benny as the main artist, spraying on its gleaming silver and blue finish.