At 16, getting a car means having to rely less on Mom and Dad and more on yourself. It's not only a mode of transportation, but a symbol of independence, freedom and the first steps into adulthood.

Teens flip burgers or fold jeans over the summer just to earn enough money to buy their first ride. Others, if they're lucky, get help from parents.

That newfound independence often brings a desire to test limits, and those usually have to do with speed.

It can start with getting Mom's old Honda and adding rims, a little chrome, and before long, someone will want to race.

"Pull up to an intersection, glance over at the car next to you, and you just know," 19-year-old Juan Munez said.

Nationally, the street racing population comprises mostly 18- to 24-year-olds who generally live at home with their parents and have little income, according to the U.S. Department of Justice's Office of Community-Oriented Policing Services.

When Munez starts a race, his music's turned up. He waits for the signal. As the flagger's arm goes down, his foot jams on the gas. His stomach twists, but with a rush of adrenaline, the nervous feeling goes away. All he can hear is the mechanical purr of his motor.

"All the worries I have about the cops, the tickets and wrecking go away until the end of the race. When it's over, I hear my music again. That's pretty much how it feels," he said.

Munez's racing group consists of about 30 or 40 serious car lovers who spend their free time hanging out in a garage and fixing up their cars, packing them with the latest equipment, ensuring that their vehicle is the fastest and most furious in town. But after they're fixed up, you've got to test them out.

COSTLY HOBBY

Last year, Munez was headed home in his 99 Mustang GT and pulled up to a red light.

It wasn't an organized race. It just so happened that one of his buddies had a new car and wanted to see how fast it could go.

"He got on it, then I got on it," Munez said.

By the time they realized that the guy in the police cruiser was more than a spectator, their speedometer read 130 mph.

Munez was pulled over and promptly taken to jail. The whole ordeal cost him $450 in fines, $1,500 for bail, and an additional $50 a month to pay for his six months of probation - not to mention the 100 hours of community service.

"It was an expensive race," he said.

For some, a ticket or two is enough to stop racing. But for others, the thought of getting picked up by police presents an added adrenaline rush.

Munez said many of his friends who have gotten tickets haven't taken their feet off the accelerator.

Fulfilling their need for speed doesn't come cheap. Most of Munez's racing friends work, but any extra money they make goes right back into shaving that extra half-second off their time. Street racers devote thousands of dollars into souping up their vehicles with turbochargers and nitrous oxide systems to give added boost.

According to Consumer Reports, car enthusiasts in the U.S. spend an average of $13.5 billion a year, based on the average six-year ownership period.

Not all street racing is sporadic.

"Brad," of Longview, street raced for 12 years, but gave it up last year at the request of his wife.

"I did it when I was young because I wanted to impress the girls and look cool," he said.

REVVING UP

Brad said street racers aren't just punk kids trying to get in trouble, but highly skilled event planners resourceful enough to use multiple forms of communication when setting up a race.

A well-orchestrated street race typically starts when racers gather in a well-known place - a grocery store parking lot, for example. From there, they decide on the best location to race.

Other street races are organized through text messaging.

To prevent police from finding racing spots, messages are sent to a select group about an hour before the race starts. Some racing groups in larger cities have Web sites devoted announcing the next race site and the previous week's winner results.

"Matt," a 22 year-old street racer from Tyler, said racing groups have few requirements when deciding which roads to use.

Rules for choosing a road are clear and simple: It must be a straight road in a remote location, wide and long enough to brake. Even more preferred is for the road to have several arterial streets that can be used for quick getaways in case police find the racing spot.

Matt added that he and his friends are not reckless and out to cause trouble, which is why they only race on streets where there is little traffic.

"We just want to race. It's really not like we're out there to hurt anyone," he said.

PUTTING ON THE BRAKES

With the summer months approaching, Tyler police are revving up enforcement of highway racing laws.

On March 9, members of a special racing detail cruised South Tyler looking for offenders. What they found was a large crowd gathered at the dead end of Market Place next to Gander Mountain, and several vehicles racing on the double boulevard heading toward South Broadway Avenue. Four men were arrested in connection with the race.

"It can never be safe when you have two vehicles traveling side by side down a public road at a high rate of speed," said Don Martin, Tyler Police Department public information officer.

Police argue that there is no such thing as a public street with no one around.

Once word gets out a race is on in an unpopulated area, it's not unpopulated for long. Spectators crowd around the racing site arriving in separate vehicles creating more and more traffic. Martin said the Gander Mountain area provides a good example of a road that is more populated than the racers think. The road splits into a boulevard, but on the other side there is an incoming lane that connects with Broadway.

"If a kid were to pull off Broadway just to watch the race and the cars were already racing, I would have a head-on collision," Martin said.

Sometimes there are "sideshows" - peripheral activities that go on during the main race. Spectators spin wheels and do doughnuts to show off their rides.

COPS CRACK DOWN

Police data from 2004 reported that in 10 major U.S. cities, at least 50 people die a year from street racing, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.

The National Hot Rod Association's statistics indicate 49 people are injured for every 1,000 who take part in street racing.

There too many unpredictable factors that make street racing unsafe, said Garry Simmons of East Texas Medical Center EMS.

The long-time paramedic has seen his share of crashes, many of which were caused not only by driver error, but by seemingly unnoticeable problems like oil on the roadway or vehicle malfunction.

Simmons reluctantly admitted to having partaken in an illegal street race or two in his youth, but added that he has seen what kind of damage street racing can do.

"At least on a drag strip, you don't have to worry about Grandma making a turn and coming down your lane. On the street, you just never know," Simmons said.

It's not just crashes that pose a problem. Authorities have fielded numerous noise complaints from homeowners living near known street racer hangouts. Other problems include litter and excess wear-and-tear on public streets.

It's not just those in the car who can get in trouble with the law. When businesses post "no loitering" signs on their property, it grants police the ability to hand out citations after hours.

Even if you're just watching a race in Tyler, you could be looking at a citation for loitering.

Police said their purpose is not to prevent young people from having a good time on the weekend. Their main goal is to protect the public.

"It's a matter of time before we see someone killed. That's what we're tying to prevent," Martin said.

SOMETIMES NO ONE WINS

In 2003, a Sonoma pickup driven by 18-year-old David Lea Reid of Tatum collided with a Chevrolet Blazer at around 99 mph. Reid was racing.

The impact of the crash killed four of the town's most popular girls, including the driver's sister. Their deaths sent a shock wave of anger and disbelief through Tatum, a town of 1,320.

After the crash, you could draw a line down the middle of Tatum - with one side wanting to see Reid pay for the girls' deaths, and the other believing he had paid enough with his sister's life.

Years later, Micheal Jimerson, the Rusk County district attorney who prosecuted Reid, said all that pain and hurt could have been prevented. When those boys chose to race they didn't just put their lives at stake.

It was a Friday night and all four girls were at the Tatum High School football game, watching the Eagles take on their biggest rivals, the Spring Hill Panthers.

Cheerleaders Jaicey Robberson, a 16-year-old junior, and Rachel Reid, a 15-year-old sophomore, were out on the field revving up the team for a big win. Close friend McKinsey Blalock, 14, a member of the cross country team, watched from the sidelines.

Tatum lost the game that night. As the crowds dispersed, all three girls piled into Robberson's brown Chevrolet Blazer and headed to pick up a fourth friend, recent Tatum graduate Kasey Jo Moraw.

The four girls then drove to Robberson's house, where the teens planned to have a sleepover. They never made it that far.

Around 11 p.m., as the girls pulled out of a private drive to turn south on Texas Highway 149, a GMC pickup plowed into the left passenger side of the Blazer, ejecting the front passenger. The other three teens were trapped in the SUV as it caught fire.

The only survivor of the crash was David Reid. He and friend Karl Cullen, 17, had been racing on Texas 149.

When Reid awoke from a coma several days after the crash, he was told that his sister Rachel, a passenger in the SUV, was killed.

Reid's injuries from the accident began to heal, but the wounds left on the small community of Tatum were as open as ever.

"I can remember it like yesterday. It was one of the most divisive and heartbreaking cases I have ever tried," Jimerson said.

It was divisive because much of the town was undecided on how the two street racers should be prosecuted.

Until September 2003, street racing was a class C misdemeanor in Texas. The penalty was a $200 ticket and no jail time. The legislation was upgraded to make street racing a class B misdemeanor punishable by 180 days in jail, a $2,000 fine, a one-year license suspension and additional punishment for racing-related injury or death.

Before the Reid case, Jimerson said he knew of no one who had been prosecuted under the new felony racing legislation. The crash occurred Sept. 5, just five days after the new laws took effect.

Daryll Bennett, a Longview attorney who defended Reid in the criminal case, was also torn. Although the girls' deaths were unintentional, someone had to take responsibility.

After a week of trial testimony, Reid was found guilty on two counts of manslaughter and two counts of felony highway racing. He was sentenced to eight years probation.

"There is another side to racing. You're out there for the thrill of beating someone else, but you never know when someone will pull out in front of you," Bennett said.

Nearly five years have passed since the girls' deaths, and Tatum hopes that some have learned street racing can be deadly.

But only two months after the Tatum crash, a 24-year-old in Longview who was street racing his Mustang collided with an SUV, severely injuring a 4-year-old child and the woman driver.

"The 'boys will be boys' excuse can only go so far. Sometimes those boys can hurt or kill someone," Jimerson said.