I sat on my small bed, staring at the ceiling as reality crashed down on me like a cold wave. Registering for the race had been the easy part - just typing fake information into a computer. But now I had to face the impossible truth: I had less than eight hours to find a motorcycle, figure out how to get to the race, and somehow convince Mama to let me stay out all night.

What was I thinking? The question echoed in my mind as panic started to set in. I don't even have a bike. How can I ...