It started that certain Thursday afternoon, with a car page

I love the oil and grease and the gas, a car girl at my young age

My dad had a garage, so I grew up in a car learning to fix wires

The other kids wanted to go swimming, sitting at the beach fires

I knew that I had to get more information, to make the engine fast

So I am off to the library, on my bicycle with a fast motor to blast

When I pulled up, to the dimly lit outside building of the paper book

The front door was heavy, with a gold knob shaped like a fish hook

The person behind the old oak history of a desk, slowly looked up at me

She blinked once or twice, and pointed to the third isle giving the info to be

There was three others, that were there at the inside book to have a race

I want to win and be the best all around, he spit out words hitting our face

What are you looking at punk, he said as he looked at my read in my greasy hands

I turned to see him stand up, and give us some horrible words and uncertain demands

Did my ears just hear him, challenge us to a race with any type of land vehicle or car

My teenage heart did a few flops, and I left the walls of thought and my bike will go far