M Stands for Mischief

“M” Stands for Mischief

By JeanTre16

Speed screeched his Mach 5 into Pop’s mechanic shop, spun it sideways and skid to a stop. Popping off his helmet with the trademark “M” on it, he tucked it under his arm and jumped out of the car.

“Hey, Pops!”

“Grrrh,” the stocky car owner growled, clenching his fists. “How many times have I told you not to bring the Mach 5 in here like that? It’s careless.”

Sparky, the mechanic’s eyes grew wide at the oncoming confrontation. He quickly buried his head in a tool box and acted like he was looking for a tool.

Speed’s little brother, Spritle, and his chimpanzee, Chim-Chim, were playing in a large empty box that overturned when Speed’s car startled them. “Oh boy, Speed’s in trouble now,” the boy said. “Shh,” he encouraged the chimp to be quiet as they spied from slits in the cardboard’s seams.

The young driver was in a good mood and didn’t seem to notice Sparky’s bumbling or the four eyes peering from the box. “Aw, come on. That was nothing. You know I’m way too good to let a little move like that get outta hand.”

The old man’s steam simmered to a light boil. “You’re cocky; that’s what you are. And one of these days —”

“One of these days I’m going to make you so proud of me that you’ll have to stop treating me like you did my older brother, thinking that I’m going to wreck on every turn,” Speed defended. This time, his jaw was clenched. This was an old argument and he wasn’t going to let his father’s fear ruin his confidence.

The young racer had never felt better. He’d been training for the grueling cross-country rally non stop for the past several months. And now, The Crucible was less than two weeks away. He may have put on a bit of a show in that slick entry, but no one could deny that he was ready, not even Pops.

But deny him was exactly what his father did. “I’m ordering you to take the weekend off,” he said.

“But —”

“But nothing,” Pops’ tone was adamant. “A new driver’s entered in the race by the name of Mantix. Said he wants to steal your title. Personally, I think he’s up to no good, but I want to look him over without you flaunting your stuff in front of him.”

Speed clenched his teeth, but said nothing. It was best not to get into a scuffle with Pops when he was set in manager mode.

Content that he would receive no further complaints, the boss dropped his contention and walked over to the workbench. “I had a little trouble with the manufacturer, but I was able to get this in time for the big race,” he said. Pops opened the lid of a box and pulled out a shiny white helmet with the name Mifune on it in red.

The son took the helmet with mixed feelings. “Mifune? That’s the family’s name,” he said.

“That’s right. And it’s a proud name,” Pops answered.

Speed placed his old helmet down by the box and looked at the new protective gear. As much as he liked his red “M,” he knew that fans often mistook the letter to stand for the Mach 5. He only wondered what Pops meant by giving this to him now, before the big race. Was his father trying to tell him that he was finally able to trust him after the pain his older brother, Rex, had caused him? “I appreciate it,” he said, “and I won’t let you down.”

From under the box, Spritle and Chim-Chim’s eyes widened, drooling over the old helmet on the bench. “Speed’s got a new helmet; maybe we can have the old one,” Spritle whispered to his chimp excitedly.

**M**

Speed left the garage, frustrated, and took a walk. He’d been training hard and had no desire to take time off. But Pops had been firm; he was to spend a whole weekend away from the track. Today was only Friday. What was he going to do until Monday?

Just then, a short-haired brunette hurried to catch up with him. “Hi, Speed,” she said. “Your father told me I could find you out here. Did you two have a fight? Because he looked pretty upset.”

“I’d rather not talk about it, Trixie.”

His long-time girlfriend studied his shify mood. “Listen, Speed. If you need time off …”