Greaseball was getting anxious. Where was the Vette? He knew he'd show. Blondy wasn't one of those types to chicken out. As his mind mulled over the possibilities a black and white patrol car pulled up alongside. The Plymouth and the black sedan pulled away and giving them only a sideways glance, the little cop with the big smokie walked towards the primered Chevy.

"So Greaseball.....Got something on have you."

The accent was not uncommon but particularly grating for some reason.

"Nah, just watchin' the clouds, diggin' the day."
"Yeah, sure you are."
"Yeah.....I am!"
"Listen punk, we pulled a Vette over in town heading out this way and there's a lot of activity up around the Lucky U. Hell, we heard there's some kind of weird biker gang heading up from the south.....And you're sitting here watching clouds huh?" "Yep...Sure am."

The Vette drove past at a slow speed an went unnoticed by the trooper, but Greaseball saw Blondy point down and then hold up a single finger. He had it...Back here in an hour.

"Well listen, we think you're racin' the Curve and I will be watching. Now move on asshole."

Not risking a comment, he fired up the Chevy and eased it back towards the shop. When he saw the little cop head off in the other direction, Greaseball began to worry. The crash from many years ago came flashing into his mind. A cop had caused that one, but they didn't admit it. He thought of the ponytailed girl and was glad he'd sent Caitrin on ahead. One hour...he'd be back.