The city streets buzzed with neon light, slick with the evening’s drizzle. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional honk blended into the low rumble of life at night. After a long day, an Uber was the only reasonable way home—simple, efficient, nothing to think about. The app pinged. Ride accepted. The car was pulling up any second now.

A sleek black sedan rolled to a stop at the curb. Standard enough. But then, the driver’s side window rolled down, and the impossible became reality.

"Yo, dude! Hop in!"

Jett.

Of course it was Jett. Sitting behind the wheel, clad in his ever-present black and red racing suit, his helmet still firmly strapped on his head. The tinted visor reflected the glow of the streetlights, with those two little blue attachments sticking out at the top, almost like coyote ears twitching in excitement.

The driver was supposed to be "Jett C."—the app said so. But there was no way this Jett, the same overenthusiastic, full-throttle maniac who lived and breathed speed, was actually working as an Uber driver. And yet, here he was, gripping the wheel with gloved hands, fingers tapping on the dash as if revving an engine that wasn’t there.

"Uh, yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’—‘Jett, why are you an Uber driver?’ But hear me out—" He twisted around in his seat, the red belt buckle strapped across his chest clicking against the seatbelt he had yet to remove. "I was, like, totally bored last week, right? And I thought, ‘Hey, what if I got a part-time gig?’ And BOOM! Uber. Turns out, it’s kinda sick! It’s like a side quest in life, y’know?"

He threw his arms up dramatically, nearly smacking the rearview mirror before adjusting it back into place with a sheepish laugh.

"People get in my car, I take 'em places, I get paid—it’s like real-life time trials! Plus, I get to talk to a bunch of new people!"

The fact that Uber rides were not a race clearly hadn’t dawned on him.

"Anyway, buckle up!"