Neo-traditional colour tattoo of two cartoon racing cars, one grey and one red, on the lower abdomen above a pink waistband.

Cartoon race cars on the stomach

Neo-trad · Other · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows two cartoon racing cars side by side, a grey car in front and a red car behind it, with exaggerated wheels, a large rear engine and a bulbous exhaust. The bold black outlines, smooth shading and bright red, grey and yellow ink give it a cartoon look, and a yellow and orange splash sits behind the cars. The collage shows the same tattoo from two angles on a bare midriff, with a pink waistband across the lower frame.

Neo-trad Other Car Wheel Engine Vehicle

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The road out of Tonopah had no paint on it, just heat shimmering off the tarmac as if the asphalt were boiling its own dinner. I was the grey one, number eleven, with tyres fat as tractor wheels and a supercharger on my roof that rattled like a biscuit tin full of bolts. Ahead of me the red car kept its nose up and its engine pod swinging, and every time I gained a foot it blew a puff of black smoke back into my grille just to be rude.

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Dexter Plum drove the red car, though drove was generous. He mostly steered with his elbows and sang along to a radio that only picked up one station, a man selling mattresses in Reno. Nobody in the pits liked him. The mechanics had a bet going on who would blow a wheel first, and my money was on Dexter, because nobody paints a tyre that round and that shiny without wanting everyone to look at it.

Past the dry lake the road dipped, and the sky behind us turned the colour of a cracked yolk. Dexter took the bend wide, the way he always did, and his left rear wheel struck a rock the size of a loaf. It threw him up off the road, spun him clean round, and set him down facing me with his exhaust still popping like a laugh. I stood on the brakes, skidded sideways, and stopped with my bumper an inch from his door.

He looked at me through his cracked windscreen, grinning. Well, Eleven, he said, you going to pass me or help me find my wheel? I kicked the supercharger into gear, swung round him in a cloud of dust, and left him sitting there with a flat and a view. At the next garage I sent a tow truck back for him anyway, mostly because I wanted to be there when he cursed the sand.