ONE

     Jim watched his team as they worked the target.

     Go ahead, buddy, Jim thought, give it your best shot. See how much good it does you.

     The target tried to swerve his shiny new Lexus to pass the smoking black Eldorado in front of him. The Lexus made it to the right lane just in time for a sixty-something woman with white hair to pull her ageing Ford Taurus from in front of to directly beside the Eldorado, blocking any escape.

     “Nice work, Barb,” Jim said as his headset captured his voice. “I think I might have even heard what he said that time.”

     Barb’s voice sounded in his earpiece, “You want me to repeat it?”

     “No,” said Jim. “We’re the respectable elderly, remember.”

     “My turn,” Jim heard Zak’s voice in his ear.

     “Okay, man, do your worst!” Jim replied. Then he watched as a rusty Dodge coupe put itself directly into the left turn lane about half a block ahead of the target’s Lexus.

     The Lexus stopped behind the decrepit Dodge. Together they waited for the light, which in time presented a green arrow. The dodge took a very long time to make a sweeping turn into the two-lane street, with the Lexus following. The rest of Jim’s team, with Jim leading, followed them around the corner.

     “Can anyone see his face?” Jim asked.

     “Yeah. I’ve got him in my mirror,” said Zak. “I think he’d get in trouble saying those things on television.”

     Barb laughed, “Even in this day and age?”

     “Even I’m embarrassed by his words,” Zak said with a laugh in his voice.

     “Looks like you’ve got him covered the rest of the way, Zak. How about meeting us for some R and R after you drop him off?” Jim liked to keep the morale of his team up by sharing a beer and food fest with them at least a couple of times a week.

     “Just tell me where you wind up, and I’ll be there,” Zak replied.

     The team, minus Zak, turned around at an intersection and drove to a bar on West Sahara. It was far from the glittering lights of the strip, but not so far from where Zak left their final target of the day. As he parked his mid-nineties Chevy in the hot evening sunlight, Jim said, “Sal, you coming tonight?”

     “Can’t make it,” Sal said. “Got a grandson coming to visit.

     “You lucky!” said Barb as she turned off her car.

     As Jim walked to the front door of the bar, Drifter quickly and expertly slipped his smokeless and fine-tuned Cadillac into a spot that most would have thought too small for such a large automobile. Jim smiled at Drifter’s expertise.

     Inside, the three of them didn’t have long to wait for Zak to join them. All together in one spot and no longer on duty, they pulled the Bluetooth fixtures out of their ears and waved at a waitress.

     “No video poker today, Jim?” asked Barb

     “Nah. Not enough distractions. I prefer a casino.”

“Nice drifting, Drifter,” Jim went on.

     “Thank you,” Drifter replied, “Only three lanes, though.”

     “Well, the street was narrow,” said Zak.

     “But I can do six if I need to, remember,” said Drifter.

     Jim had a momentary vision of Drifter managing to clog up all six lanes of a busy freeway by moving ever so gently from lane to lane and back again. He smiled at the memory.

     Barb laughed, “I thought you were going to give that last guy a heart attack on that left turn!”

     They could all see the thick black hair on top of Zak’s head as he looked down in false modesty, “Oh, well, you know.”

     Their drinks arrived. Jim raised his glass for a toast. “To safer streets and saner drivers!” he said.

     They all raised their glasses to that.

     Jim looked at his team and smiled. They were the best. Barb, the white-haired old lady who was in reality a terror on wheels and one of the first female Drag Racing champions. Zak, who once made his living racing the NASCAR circuit. And Drifter, whose real name was David, and who didn’t look at all like someone who had made good money for years teaching bodyguards and police officers how to drive really fast effectively and safely. Jim knew that his own history as a stunt driver, along with the ability he’d always had to make people like him enough to follow his lead, made him and his team formidable. And he couldn’t forget Sal, of course, the dispatcher who organized it all for them every week day.

Then there was Jerry Quince, of Jerry’s Garage, the genius behind their surprisingly powerful and agile automobiles. Every day they assembled in a grungy room in a corner of Jerry’s place of business, and every day Jim was grateful for the genius they all called Quince.

     Yes, indeed, he thought to himself. Safer streets and saner drivers. It’s good to have a purpose in life!

     “Is Sal even old enough to have a grandkid?” Drifter asked.

     “She’s fifty-four. I’ve known people who were grandmas at ten years less than that,” Barb said.

     “She does a good job for such a child, though, don’t you think?” Jim asked.

     Barb laughed, “Oh, hell, I just wish my daughter would stay home from the office long enough to get me a little kid to spoil.”

     “This is one of those nights I wish I could have several of these,” Drifter looked at his mug of ale.

     “Why? I thought it went pretty well out there today,” said Jim.

     “Got a birthday coming up. That always makes me feel old.”

     “Not too old to get that BMW driver to pull into the liquor store!” said Zak.

     “The liquor companies should pay us,” said Drifter. “instead of the Institute for Safer Commuting.”

     “I’m just glad to get paid for doing what we do,” said Jim.

     “I always hated people who drive like us,” said Drifter.

     “So who changed your mind?” asked Zak.

     “It was old Jim, here. He heard I’d taught a few people how to survive a high-speed chase and thought I might enjoy the work.”

     “And it turns out you hate it so, right?” said Jim.

     Drifter laughed. “No, dammit, you were right. It is fun, innit?”

     They ate and talked, and finally it was Jim who ended the party. “Hate to say this, but we need to be up early again Tomorrow,” he said.

     “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Barb. Then, to Drifter, “You coming over?”

     “Not tonight,” Drifter said, “Got to unclog a toilet for my neighbor.”

     “Your life’s just one thrill after another, isn’t it?” Zak said.

     They were still laughing as they walked out into the heat of a July evening.