Lovely, perky, curly-haired and highly appealing brunette 80's flash-in-the-pan B-movie starlet Betsy ("Out of Control," "Cheerleader Camp") Russell gives a winningly spunky performance as Tomasina "Tommy" Boyd, a scrappy, willful, fiercely self-reliant spitfire hoyden automobile mechanic with a humongous crush on cocky race car driving dreamboat hunk Randy Starr (handsome, dashing Gerald Christopher). Egged on by her flighty, opportunistic aspiring actress gal pal Seville Ritz (leggy, luscious blonde looker Kristi Somers), Tommy meets Randy at a jerky rich kid's (Kirk Douglas' obnoxious youngest son Eric in an unbearably grating thespic turn) posh night party and, of course, the two fall a** over teakettle for each other. The only problem is that male chauvinist Randy won't take Tommy seriously because she's a chick, so naturally the take no guff Tommy dares Randy to a high stakes souped-up auto race to win over his respect.
Passably directed by seasoned trash exploitation feature hack Herb Freed (who also graced us with the grim, unsettling, arrestingly off-kilter psychological horror sleeper "Haunts" and the atrocious teen body count slasher tripe "Graduation Day") and scripted in strictly off-the-peg adolescent comedy-drama formula fashion by Ben Zelig, this typically tacky and immaterial Crown International Pictures drive-in fluff covers all the necessary junky bases to qualify as a pleasingly silly serving of pure nonsense: a sizable number of nice-looking busty babes take their shirts off at regular 15 minute intervals (besides Russell and Somers, we also have "Cavegirl" 's eminently adorable Cynthia Ann Thompson as a frequently bare-breasted bimbo and cheesy horror scream queen Michelle Bauer in a ridiculous uncredited bit part as a topless tootsie in a flashy white Corvette), a heavy-handed "you go girl!" stand-up-for-yourself feminist subtext, a generous smattering of witless lowbrow humor (Ritz's audition for a TV commercial is a racy hoot!), the best cornball motorcycle courtship scene since "Viva Kneivel!," cheap gay jokes, stupidly vulgar dialogue ("Good night, little *beep*!"), a horrible soundtrack full of generic, mechanically bouncy Top 40 hit tune soundalike songs (the incredibly awful theme number boasts the following immortal couplet: "She's a road runner/She's a tail gunner!"), an unforgettably hideous folks in tight, clingy leotards thrusting their pelvises to and fro to crappy disco music get down and boogie aerobic workout sequence ala "Flashdance," and an utterly predictable grand finale all-or-nothing climactic car race. What's not to like about this charmingly shoddy 80's schlock artifact?
Passably directed by seasoned trash exploitation feature hack Herb Freed (who also graced us with the grim, unsettling, arrestingly off-kilter psychological horror sleeper "Haunts" and the atrocious teen body count slasher tripe "Graduation Day") and scripted in strictly off-the-peg adolescent comedy-drama formula fashion by Ben Zelig, this typically tacky and immaterial Crown International Pictures drive-in fluff covers all the necessary junky bases to qualify as a pleasingly silly serving of pure nonsense: a sizable number of nice-looking busty babes take their shirts off at regular 15 minute intervals (besides Russell and Somers, we also have "Cavegirl" 's eminently adorable Cynthia Ann Thompson as a frequently bare-breasted bimbo and cheesy horror scream queen Michelle Bauer in a ridiculous uncredited bit part as a topless tootsie in a flashy white Corvette), a heavy-handed "you go girl!" stand-up-for-yourself feminist subtext, a generous smattering of witless lowbrow humor (Ritz's audition for a TV commercial is a racy hoot!), the best cornball motorcycle courtship scene since "Viva Kneivel!," cheap gay jokes, stupidly vulgar dialogue ("Good night, little *beep*!"), a horrible soundtrack full of generic, mechanically bouncy Top 40 hit tune soundalike songs (the incredibly awful theme number boasts the following immortal couplet: "She's a road runner/She's a tail gunner!"), an unforgettably hideous folks in tight, clingy leotards thrusting their pelvises to and fro to crappy disco music get down and boogie aerobic workout sequence ala "Flashdance," and an utterly predictable grand finale all-or-nothing climactic car race. What's not to like about this charmingly shoddy 80's schlock artifact?