An old hand in the racing industry, Bobby Weaver was a resilient part of the old guard that was on its way out when Dave Ravine and Samuel Huckster were fighting their way through the standings. Though Weaver only directly challenged the new guard’s superiority in a handful of races, he made certain he pushed the rookies to the limits, preferring to see the new guard triumph over the old rather than being fed with a silver spoon. But this was far from Bobby Weaver’s only dealing with the next generation of racers. In fact, Bobby had more contact with the new guard and their successors than any of his colleagues, as he marked his retirement from professional racing with the formation of a training program for aspiring racers.

Having broken onto the scene in a strictly amateur fashion himself, Bobby understood the frustrations of the sport – and though he never gave an inch to any of the next-gen newbies – Bobby made sure they wound up with a better shake than he ever did at their age.

Recently, a series of underground street races has exhausted the ranks of his school, leaving some pupils in wheelchairs and others in jail cells. Desperate to discourage the races, Bobby has taken matters into his own hands. He started by buying the farthest cry from a race car yet – a mobile home – and began tracking the races throughout the various old roadways of hidden America. Hunting the jet black car found in every account moments before a crash, Bobby seeks the enigmatic Mr. Coyote at the center of it all, but instead comes upon two of his would-be victims along the way – old pals Dave Ravine and Samuel Huckster.

Renewing the hunt with several allies in tow, Bobby follows a trail of accidents to an unlikely conclusion, but for once in a very long while, the Stamford-educated racer is wrong – very wrong.