In 1958, Clarksberg was a famous speed trap town. Much revenue was generated by the Sheriff's Department catching speeders. The ones who tried to outrun the Sheriff? Well, that gave the Sheriff a chance to push them off the Clarksberg Curve with his Plymouth cruiser. For example, in the beginning of the movie, a couple of servicemen on leave trying to get back to base on time are pushed off to their deaths, if I recall correctly. Then one day, a stranger drove into town. Possibly the coolest hot rodder in the world. Michael McCord. Even his name is a car name, as in McCord gaskets. In possibly the ultimate hot rod. A black flamed '34 Ford coupe. The colors of death, evil and hellfire. He gets picked up for speeding by the Sheriff on purpose. He checks out the lay of the land. He is the brother of one of the Sheriff's victims. He knows how his brother died. The Clarksberg government is all in favor of the Sheriff. There's only one way to get justice served for the killing of his brother and to fix things so "this ain't a-ever gonna happen again to anyone": recreate the chase and settle the contest hot-rodder style to the death. He goes out to the Curve and practices. The Sheriff knows McCord knows. The race begins... This is a movie to be remembered by anyone who ever tried to master maneuvering on a certain stretch of road.