Chapter 0: Prologue My Pops was a great man. He used to race, a lot. His car, a mean BMW 2002 Turbo. 170 horsepower, top speed 130mph, 0 to 60 in 7.5 seconds. Sure, it doesnt seem a lot anymore, but at the time, 1974, it was spectacular at least to my pops, and thats all that mattered. He won countless races in his day. I found some pictures of Elizabeth as he called it, or her I should say. They were buried in an old box in the antic. I found them one day when I was cleaning it up for some renovations. I remember Pops telling me that a fan took this picture, apparently a real die hard fan that went to as many races as he could. He made a copy of the picture and mailed it to him. Sorry for the quality, like I said it was buried away in some old dusty boxes. Another picture that I found was taken for a magazine if I remember correctly. I wish I had the magazine to show you instead of this old picture. Ultimately I wish I had a picture of him to show you guys. Dark slick black hair, chiseled jaw line, 58, and best of all, a classic police officer mustache. I remember when I was a young kid, hed always come inches to my face, wiggle that mustache of his back and forth by moving his top lip and in a high pitch voice ask me Whats up Buttercup? I know it sounds silly now, but it always cracked me up whenever I was feeling down. I wish he was still around today. He passed away May 3rd, 2002, he was 57 years old. He could beat anyone on the track, but he couldnt beat the nicotine addiction he had, and passed away due to lung cancer. A year after he died, May 3rd 2003, I had probably done one of the stupidest things in my life. I still couldnt get over his death and I had a little bit too much to drink and with the car he was helping me build, my dream car, a 1997 Toyota Supra, I went around speeding on the local highway. Theres a fairly long tunnel and apparently I was power sliding all over the place. The cops that pulled me over had to show me it because I couldnt remember anything afterwards. Not even the fact that I crashed into the back of a cop car and that my precious Supra is now totalled. It wasnt until later when I got into the inner city that one of the better cameras captured my speed going around a turn and alerted the local cops in the area. I have thousands of hours to think about what I did as I rot away in prison now I know Pops wouldnt be proud of me in the least bit for anything Ive done. Im no good. I just want to make him proud to have me as his son. I will make him proud. I will get out of here and make everyone proud. These arent countless hours rotting away in a prison; these are countless hours for me to think about how to better myself and what Im going to do when I get out of here Pops will be proud.