# Car 54

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© 2005 / revised 2014
K Pelle

### Chapter 25:
Reduce Speed - Construction Zone

Needless to say, the next month was a total wipeout for me. I was so busy, it felt like I needed a twin to help me keep up to the schedule I was trying to maintain. By the first week of August of that year a tremendous amount of work had been done on the ranch.

We now had electricity in the house, the barn and the chicken coop. We had a telephone in the house and had built a tiny office in the barn – it even had an extension line for the phone. Beth and I had done a tremendous amount of work on the fencing further along the creek to keep the cattle from breaking down the creek banks. We'd also started fencing off the swampy lowland area of the valley from the drier grazing land. On top of that we had all the buildings and the garden in tip top shape. Wil, Tom, George, Beth and I had also cut, raked and baled the hay from more than five hundred acres on the dry areas and nearly two hundred acres of the lowland portion of Mile High Ranch.

When it came to animals Beth and I were almost overrun with additions. The sow had raised eight piglets that we had to wean and feed. Actually we sold all but two of them as weaners and planned on feeding those two for the summer, then butchering them in the fall. The broody hen had raised ten chicks from her first batch and Beth had set another hen who raised eight chicks. Since we were only keeping them for eggs at that time, we decided that was enough for that year.

As well, Beth had bought two more mares and a yearling colt, all of them decent quality Quarter Horse stock. I traded my Thoroughbred gelding for a Quarter Horse mare who was in foal and I bought a second mare as well. That meant our horse herd now numbered eight animals and seven of those were mares with at least three of them in foal.

On one trip to the hospital to see Grampa Bender, Dad and I had gotten into a discussion with him about cattle. Somehow he convinced us that we needed to expand the herd. We ended up using some of the ranch funds and arranging to buy several head of Polled Shorthorns with the idea of eventually trading off or selling the Herefords that Grampa Bender had been raising previously. By the time we got those two dozen Shorthorns home, after herding them the twenty miles from the ranch where we'd bought them, Beth had one of her horses as well as the Collie working the cattle like old pros. Even the young mare I'd ridden did darn well.

Because of the number of trips Wil and I were making to Edmonton, Beth and I had decided to buy the old Jeep we'd borrowed from Frank Dolens. That meant Wil and I didn't have to be away from home at the same time because he could use my car for the trip; Wil's beater pickup had engine problems and Tom was working on it in his spare time. Since the Jeep was mostly to be used on the ranch, we used ranch funds to buy it. Then I taught Beth how to drive a standard transmission vehicle so she could run either the Jeep or the tractor. She was barely fifteen at the time, but there was no reason she couldn't drive on the trails and rough roads that ran across our private land.

Of course, the stock car was sitting there all this time, needing a driver. Frank Dolens, Tom and George all gave me a rough time about it every time I saw them, but I refused to drive it in a race while my hand and foot were still in a cast.

We were talking one day and Frank sighed and said; "You know I'm always having someone ask where that stock car I gave you went and I have to go into a long explanation. It's getting rather tiresome."

"That's like that crazy cop show," George laughed. "You know the one, 'Car 54, where are you?' You could always tell them the truth, that we're all waiting for Chris's foot to heal."

I looked at Tom and winked. He grinned at me, then we both turned to Frank.

"Frank, you wanted to put a classy paint job and some ads on the car before we start racing, didn't you?" I asked. "My casts come off in two weeks, so this might be the time to do it."

"If I'm going to have the car painted, it needs a number. Have you guys picked one yet, and remember, it has to be a number that isn't in use at Pine Lake?"

"George just did," Tom chuckled.

"He did?"

"Unh huh, he used the number 54," I grinned. "Put that in big letters on both doors and the roof. Just in above the number, but in smaller letters, paint in the word 'Car' and below the number paint the word 'Where' and the capital letters 'R' and 'U.' That ought to make it all clear to folks that we're just there for the fun of it. Since the car and I have never raced before, we don't know if we can even finish one race, but we plan on trying and having fun while we do it."

He stared at me for a minute, then he broke into a laugh.

"Damn, that's a good one," he chuckled after a minute. "I'll have one of the boys come out with the trailer and get the car next week."

The week that I got my casts off, Corinna was moved to a private facility for mental evaluation and the family couldn't be with her. That meant Carissa came home. It was also the McAdam twins' birthday and Beth had been invited to spend the weekend with them. Frank's crew had the stock car all painted and ready to go that weekend, but heavy rain was forecast. Thankfully that meant the race at Pine Lake was cancelled for Sunday. Everything considered, I thought that was wonderful because it meant Carissa and I were home alone.

I don't think we managed to make up for all the loving that we had missed out on during Corinna's convalescence, but we certainly tried. Of course I did spend part of the weekend showing Carissa all the work we'd done around the ranch. But, since it rained all day Saturday and most of the day on Sunday, we did spend a lot of our time inside. For some unknown reason we found that the bedroom was the most comfortable room in the cabin during the rainstorms.

Okay, I'll admit it. That weekend we were preoccupied with sex. We made love before breakfast, before tackling the morning chores, before lunch, before doing the evening chores, after eating our evening meal and before going to sleep at night. By the time Monday morning came we were both slightly tender, but a lot calmer.

The weather had broken by Monday morning and the day dawned bright and clear. After we'd done the chores and come back to the cabin, we noticed it had a rather pervasive odour. In Carissa's words, 'It reeked like a cat house on Sunday morning after a busy Saturday night.' So, since Beth hadn't come back yet, we decided to open the doors and windows to air it out. While it was airing out, we thought it might be an idea if we cleaned up a bit too. Since that suggested the idea of going for a swim, we made up our minds that we needed to have a picnic. Carissa made up a picnic lunch, and I wrote a note to leave on the screen door for Beth, telling her that we were taking a few hours off.

At about eleven in the morning we headed for the swimming hole. After two days of rain the trails were a mess, but since we were driving the Jeep, we made it to the pond just fine and spread a blanket to eat our lunch. After that we sat and talked as I drowned a worm for while. At least that's what Carissa claimed I did, because the fish certainly weren't biting. After an hour or so we did have a swim, then we lay in the sun for a while to dry off and relax.

It was really strange in a way. We had a thousand things to talk about, but I think we were just as happy simply lying next to one another. The previous two days we'd spent as much time as possible having sex, but that day we spent most of our time simply touching each other, as well as hugging and kissing at every opportunity.

It was about three in the afternoon when we packed everything up and headed back to the cabin. We wanted to get most of the chores done early because Mom and Dad wanted us to drop down home to eat with them. Beth wasn't at the cabin yet, so we did the earlier chores, then had a quick wash, changed our clothes and drove down home.

As we were driving along Carissa commented on all the improvements that had been made to the access road and I told her about the deal with the hydro and phone companies. She chuckled and shook her head, telling me that everyone else fought with the phone company to get service and argued with hydro about the slowness of their installations. It seemed that she'd expected it to take a year or more for us to get electricity and a telephone installed, but we'd managed to get both of them in less than a month. I just grinned and shrugged, telling her to ask Dad what he had done to get them motivated.

When we got to the home farm, Beth and the McAdam twins were sitting on the front steps. Mom and Dad were out on the porch too.

"Hi everyone," I called as I hopped out of the car. "What's up?"

"Where have you two been?" Beth jumped up. "I've been calling the cabin every half hour since before noon."

"Well the way the weather was for the last two days, we felt like getting out of the cabin, so we went down and had a swim. Why, what was so important?"

"We were trying to get hold of you to let you know that Frank Dolens wants you to race the car at the Pine Lake track tonight at seven. Tom and George are coming by to pick us girls up in a little while. Dad was just wondering about driving up to see if you two were okay."

"Oh," I was rather nonplussed. "What about supper?"

"It's ready to eat right now," Mom laughed. "We don't know what the big deal is, but we think Frank may have set up some sort of advertising thing or perhaps a special race of some sort. I take it that this is a complete surprise to you too, isn't it?"

"Yep, but track is going to be a mess after all the rain we had."

"Actually, Wil rode up with Frank earlier today and he says the track is in good condition. It's a dirt track, but the soil is quite sandy, so it has good drainage. Besides, Charlie Wells, the owner of the place, said they didn't get that much rain yesterday. It was a lot worse the day before," Dad explained. "By the way, if you are going up to drive the car, your mom and I would like to come along."

"Well, what do you think Carissa?" I asked her.

"Oh, come off it," she laughed at me. "I can see your blood pumping and your adrenaline rising already. Do you think I'd stand in your way to really race that old wreck? Let's eat and get going."

Up until she said that, I had been starving hungry. As soon as I realised I might actually be racing in that old dirt track car, my appetite simply disappeared. In fact my stomach tried its best to tie itself into a knot. And that was a real shame, because Mom had cooked fried chicken, new potatoes, fresh peas and corn on the cob from her garden. Everything we were eating had been grown on the farm and I could hardly taste any of it. Suddenly my appetite had gone right out the window and along with it went my bravado about being a good driver. For the first time in my life I was worried about my judgement and about my skill as a driver.

"What's wrong Chris, you're not eating much?" Mom asked. "Thinking about the race already?"

"In a way," I nodded, trying to think of an excuse. "I really don't think I should eat too much before driving. Because of the rain, the track might get a bit chewed up when we're racing and if I get shaken around too much, I'd hate to get sick to my stomach or something, especially in front of a crowd of people."

"I never thought of that. Is the car that bad on a rough track?" One of the McAdam twins asked.

"Hah, you should have seen him the first time he tried out the car," Carissa laughed. "He got jarred around so much he was green when he got out of the car."

"I'll tell you what Chris. I'll pack a few pieces of chicken, some corn on the cob and a few other things so you can have a snack afterward, how's that?" Mom suggested.

I just nodded, taking a last bite of chicken from a drumstick, then drinking the last of my glass of milk and going outside to sit in the fresh air on the front porch. I'd hardly sat down when Dad came outside and sat down near me.

"Nerves?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's like getting on a new horse in a horse race, wondering if the horse is going buck, wondering if it's going to be fast, wondering if you're going to fall off, that sort of thing," I managed a weak smile. "It's times like this that even I worry about thinking too much."

"I don't think you're thinking too much, but you might be thinking about the wrong things," he sighed deeply and paused for a second, as if to get his thoughts together. "I've seen you do things with a car or a truck that I would have thought were completely impossible. So in the first place, don't worry about your driving ability. Then too, I've seen Tom and George pour over that car from end to end. If there was ever anything wrong with it, they've found it and they've fixed it. So don't worry about that either. After mechanical things, the next most important parts on that car are the tires. Frank just put new tires on it from front to back and he said he's taking along four spare tires, already mounted and ready to slap on if you get a flat. So don't worry about those. I'm sure you can handle any kind of problem with the track surface because I've seen some of the roads you've driven on. So the only worry left is the other drivers. They're out to win, but so are you."

"Yeah, I know all that, Dad. It just isn't helping much right now," I shook my head. "Let's face it. I've never driven on a real race track with anyone else trying to race against me. I've seen others do it, but I've never done it myself. The only thing that's going to help me feel better is to get into that car and try it. Until then, I'm going to be wound as tight as a 'G' string on a banjo."

Just then I glanced up and Tom pulled into the yard, parking between the Jeep and my car. Tom and George's car had always looked a lot like mine, both of them were blue with a white top. The main difference had been in the chrome strips and the details. They must have been working on the cars though, because now both of them looked almost identical. In fact both cars looked so good it looked almost like they had been repainted to look identical.

As the two guys hopped out of the car, they had grins on their faces a mile wide. As I watched them, they both whipped out what looked like cops' hats and put them on their heads. On the front of each hat was a label, it read 'Car 54' and it was done in gold on the blue hat. I couldn't help myself. I broke into laughter at the idea of them wearing those at the race track.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Tom laughed. "Just wait until you see all the stuff Frank has done. We know you aren't going to be able to drive well tonight, you're going to be laughing too darn much. He's gone completely frigging overboard."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, to start with, look at our cars," Tom pointed. "He started out by matching them up as much as possible and he had the stock car painted the same colours. It's the same blue with a white top, only it has white doors like a cop car and the number is painted on that. He's even got a rotating red light that goes on the roof of the car for the practise runs before the race. He wanted to have it there all the time, but the rules prevent that."

"Jeez, what are the cops going to say about all this crap?" I was still chuckling.

"Hey, where do you think he got the hats and the light and stuff?" George hooted loudly. "The cops helped him find them and some of the local RCMP guys are going to be there tonight, for cripes sake. They think it's a hoot."

"You're kidding me?"

"Nope, I was talking to one of them last night and he was saying that he'd love to get all the guys to race on the track instead of on the road. And you know, I've got to agree with him. Just look at what Ray did to this car," George frowned at me.

"Well that was a little different. Ray's an idiot and I still think he did that intentionally."

"Yeah, you're right there," Tom agreed with me. "Say how long will it be before we can go? Standing around yammering like this is cutting into your practise and hot lap time."

"The ladies are getting ready, Tom," Dad said shortly. "Don't get your shirt in a knot."

"Sorry, Uncle Willard. I'm just a bit excited about getting underway."

"I understand, fellas. I'll go see if I can get them to hurry," Dad said as he went inside.

Dad had only been inside for a moment before everyone came out and we were able to get into the cars to go. Once we were in the car and on the way, I realized that the butterflies I'd felt in my stomach before were almost gone. Perhaps it was just that now we were driving toward the track, or else it was the bit of comic relief that the guys had given me, but whatever it was, my confidence was coming back.

If Frank and the guys wanted to go out and have fun, that was fine, I'd join in. But, if I was entered in a race, then fun or not, I darn well intended to do my very best to win.

Mom, Dad, and Carissa rode with me on the trip to Pine Lake, and I think they must have agreed before getting into the car that the race was a verboten subject. They talked about the weather, the ranch, the new electrical installation at the ranch and even about the fact that both Carissa and I would be heading to Calgary in less than a month. They never mentioned cars or racing, not even once.

Of course Carissa was asking a thousand and one questions about what had been going on while she'd been away, so Mom was giving her most of the answers. Dad was being very quiet and I wasn't very talkative either. Actually, I was apprehensive because I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, so I was doing a lot of thinking and a certain amount of speculation about what Frank was up to and why it was happening at such short notice.

We were less than a mile from the race track when Tom, who had been driving in front of us, pulled over to the side of the road and George hopped out of the car. As I pulled up behind them, he came running over to us. He told me to follow them into the race track and to park beside Tom's car. Then he put a blue and white banner on my car's radio antenna. After that he ran back to Tom's car to put one on his too, before he hopped back in the car and they led away again.

"I wonder what that was about?" Dad asked me.

"More of Frank Dolens' shenanigan's I'll bet," I shook my head slowly. "The more I think about this, the more I think it all has to be some sort of publicity stunt."

"What do you mean?" Mom asked.

"Well, he's painted all the cars to look similar, he's bought cop style hats and who knows what else. It looks to me like this is some sort of advertising gimmick, but after all he is sponsoring the car, if he can get some advertising out of it he's going to make it worthwhile."

"Well, he is doing a lot for you," Dad chuckled.

"I know, Dad. I just wish I knew what was going on."

"Well, Uncle Frank does love to surprise people, but we'll all find out soon. We're almost there now," Carissa offered.

She was right, we were almost there. As we turned a last corner and could see past the trees that grew heavily in this area, we could see the gate into the race track. I was surprised when we got there that we were waved right through and then I remembered the banners that George had slipped onto our radio antennas. Glancing ahead and focussing on the one waving above the roof of their car I could see their banner. It was blue with a white circle in the center and inside that was the number 54. I just shook my head and started to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Carissa asked me.

"Those banners that George stuck on the car antennas have the number 54 on them," I laughed. "Frank must have arranged that they were our gate passes. Normally you have to pay at that gate to get into the track."

"Oh, and the guy at the gate just waved us past."

"Unh huh."

Just then we crested one of the knolls on the way to the track and we could see the general parking area. I was surprised to see that there were whole bunch of cars there. We still couldn't see the track area itself, but we could see the area where most of the trucks and trailers that hauled the cars were parked. Off to one side I could see Frank's tow truck as well as the trailer that was used to haul the car. Parked nose on to it was our stock car and it looked really good.

When we'd gotten the car it had been obviously put together out of bits and pieces of various junked cars because various parts of the car had been different colours. Now the body was dark blue while the roof and both front doors were white. Even from a distance you could read the number 54 done in navy blue on that white background. Actually it did look almost like a cop car, and as we got closer you could see that there was even a red 'cherry dome' sitting on the roof.

I couldn't help breaking into a grin as I drove up and parked next to Tom and George who nosed in beside car 54. Just as we got stopped, Frank came up to the car and grinned at me.

"Well, what do you think? How does it look to you?" he waved at the stock car.

"Pretty darn good," I grinned back. "What's with the 'cherry dome' on the roof?"

"Oh, that's just there for your practise laps, sort of an attention getter" He laughed and waved over a big guy that was standing nearby. "I think you know this guy. Constable Davis suggested we put the light on the top."

I did recognise him. Actually, considering the number of times that I'd seen the RCMP lately with all the close scrapes I'd had with 'Rotten' Ray, his face was quite familiar.

"Hello, how are you doing?" I offered my hand.

"I'm fine," he smiled as we shook hands. "This evening should be a lot of fun and I'm happy to take part in it."

"Just what is going on?" I looked at him and then at Frank.

"Well, the owner of the track wanted to run an evening race, so my business and a few others have created a challenge race. We've put up a little cup and a prize for the top three cars in the final race tonight," Frank grinned. "Constable Davis is here as a representative of the RCMP. They're backing your car quite fully."

"Actually we'd like to see more of the young people involved in this sort of thing to encourage them to do their racing on sanctioned tracks instead of the streets," Constable Davis said.

"Sounds good to me, but why focus on us?" I asked.

"Oh, come on," he laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. "How many race car drivers would be willing to paint their car to look like a cop car and race it, even if it is meant to poke fun at the cops? This is just too good an opportunity to pass up."

"Didn't Tom and George show you their outfits?" Frank asked. "Yours is on the seat in car 54."

"Well they showed us a couple of hats," I frowned. "What's all this about an outfit anyway?"

"Well, my boss in Edmonton decided we should unofficially back you. That's why I'm wearing civies," Constable Davis grinned. "Your pit crew is going to be dressed in coveralls that are meant to look somewhat like regular patrol officers, but since you'll be wearing a helmet, your coverall looks almost like a motorcycle patrolman."

"What? I thought we had to wear fire resistant clothing when we were racing?" I stared at him.

"Oh, you are and they are," he grinned. "The coveralls are all suitable for racing, we just arranged to get them done in special colours."

"You did all that in a couple of weeks?" I asked in astonishment.

He glanced around and his voice dropped lower. "Well, I wasn't supposed to say anything, but actually they came from Regina. The coveralls are flame retardant suits worn by the firefighting unit at the training base. These are actual firefighter's suits, but they've never had any official badges or crests. Frank had the crests specially made for the suits you'll wear."

I was going to ask about that, but just then an officious looking guy came up. He told us it was getting late and if we wanted to do any practise laps in before the races, we'd better get moving. He took a few minutes to go over the flags and general rules with me, since I'd missed the drivers' meeting, then he was off to talk to someone else.

Frank and Constable Davis rushed me over to the stock car, then grabbed some clothing and a helmet off the seat, handing the bundle to me. They held up a blanket as I shucked off my jeans and slipped into the coverall, then tried on the new helmet and adjusted it to size. While I was doing that, Tom and George appeared to fill the car's gas tank and check the tire pressures, then they lifted the hood to check the oil and coolant.

That's when Jerry, Frank's son, hopped into the tow truck and pulled it and the trailer away from in front of us. Now the people who were sitting in the stands on the other side of the race track could look up toward the small knoll above the track and see us. What they could see were three similarly painted car's parked in a row and I suppose to them it looked like there were three cops and a few other people milling around the one car.

Up until Jerry had moved the trailer I hadn't really been noticing the noise from the cars that were on the track, but now the sound came to me clearly and I could feel my heartbeat pick up. I can't explain what seemed to happen to me then. Looking back on that first race, the only way I can describe my actions is to say that I was in a zone of some sort.

I listened as Frank and the constable explained that I was to go down and run around the track for a few laps to try the car out. Then I was supposed to pull into the area in the middle of the track and wait for my turn to run a few timed hot laps. Those hot laps would settle where I was to be at the start of the race. The better time I got, the better position I got for the start. Since I'd been at the races before, I knew all that, but the procedure was new to me.

I just nodded as I listened, then in what felt like no time at all, I was slipping into the seat and buckling myself in place. When I started the engine, the car felt good and I felt a strange tightness in my shoulders that disappeared once the engine was running well. Once it was, I shifted the car into second gear to pull away.

Somehow as I was easing the car along and threading my way through parked cars, trucks and trailers, I could sense the surface the wheels were going over. This was to be my first race and I was keyed up, but everything felt right. It was a strange feeling, a sense of elation, along with some impatience, yet there were also feelings of caution and anxiety. I wanted to be racing, but I wanted to do it safely.

Once I pulled up to the edge of the track, I had to wait for a flagman to signal me onto the track and he leaned in the window, shouting at me.

"You'd best start out on the outside of the track, but drop to the inside as soon as possible," he hollered. "There's three of the faster cars out there, so keep to the inner edge of the track until you've got your car up to speed. And for gosh sake remember, you're not racing yet."

After I gave him a thumbs up to let him know that I understood, he backed away from the car and waited until traffic was clear before waving me out.

The first two laps around the track were made in second gear as I watched my gauges come up to running temperature and pressure. I drove those laps as if I was on the highway with a normal car, then when I started on the next lap I began to play a bit. The third lap was made at higher speed and I was able to find my line and feel how much gas to feed so that I could do a four-wheel drift through the corners. As I went into a corner, I'd give it enough gas to break the tires free, then adjust my counter steer to try to hold a smoothly curved line through the whole one hundred and eighty-degree bend.

That was when I felt like I was really learning a bit about the track. The first thing I realized was that the banking was slightly greater than what we had on our little test track at home. As well, I felt the difference in the way the surface seemed to be much harder and smoother under the wheels of the car, which made it much easier to establish my four wheel drifts. I even noticed that 3-4 corner felt a bit tighter than 1-2 corner and that the back straightaway felt slightly shorter than the straight section of track nearest the stands. If that was true, it meant that 1-2 corner 'opened out' as you drove its length while 3-4 corner 'tightened in' so you had to limit your speed.

On the fourth lap I felt I controlled the car a lot better and made better speed through the corners. The strange thing was that I felt there was lots of time. It was almost as if everything around me was moving slightly slower or else my thinking and reaction time had sped up. I knew I must be travelling fairly fast, but I had lots of time to adjust the steering and accelerator. In a way it was almost as if I was seeing the whole world pass in slightly slower motion than normal and that took a bit of getting used to.

Since there were four cars circling the track just then, I dropped in behind the guy I thought was the fastest in order to watch what he did and how he drove the track. I'm not sure just why I did it, but I closed up behind him until my front bumper was about eight or ten feet away from his rear bumper and I hung there, literally letting him pull me around the track. Even after the first corner I could see his line was going to be slightly higher than I had been using for mine. As soon as I saw that, I grinned to myself. Following him into 3-4 corner confirmed my suspicions as he slowed for that corner more than he had for the other. That was when I reminded myself that we weren't racing yet and decided to drop away from him as if my car was losing its fight for traction on that curve.

Once I'd seen for certain how the other two cars were running, I slowed and pulled into the infield. Then I steered over to a space where Tom and George were standing in their fake cop uniforms beside a pickup truck painted the same colours as our car. I'd hardly gotten stopped when they were both trying to jam their heads in the driver's window.

"What's wrong?" Tom shouted before I'd even had a chance to slip off my helmet and get rid of my ear plugs.

"Nothing, but lift the hood like there is," I winked and grinned. "Those guys on the track now are supposed to be the fast ones and I didn't want to show off our speed and control."

As I got out of the car, I could just make out the announcer overtop of the roar of the cars out on the track.

"Well folks, it looks like our friendly gendarmes have engine trouble of some sort. They're opening the hood and staring at the engine, so maybe we've already lost one of our hopefuls. I hope not. That would upset Gary Wagner, since he was saying before the laps started that he was looking forward to blowing their doors off. It seems like he may not get the chance," he said. "Too bad, we were looking forward to some new blood, even if it is mid season."

I had to fight to keep a grin off of my face as I joined the guys and stared down at the hot engine under the lifted hood.

"Guys, in a way, we goofed," I said, speaking quietly to keep others from hearing.

"What do you mean?" George frowned at me.

"Well, we set this thing up for running on our short practise track at home," I smirked at him and then at Tom. "I think this beast cuts a tighter corner than the other cars out there do."

"Well, that's an advantage, isn't it?" George was frowning now.

"Of course it is. Only it's a bit tough to hold to a line on the front and back straights. I think they've got us for speed there, unless I just power through the steering problems," I shrugged. "Of course, we'll have to see about that in a race. I wasn't going flat out by any means."

"Okay, so is there anything we can do about that right now?" George said loudly. "Oh shit. Here comes a track official."

I turned away from the car just in time to almost knock away the clipboard in the hands of a tall lanky guy who was close behind me.

"You guys got trouble?" he asked.

"Maybe? Nothing much we can do here though. We'd need to have it in the shop," Tom answered, frowning at him. "The car is still race worthy. It's just going to be a bit slower on the straights than we expected."

"It looked okay to me," the guy shrugged.

"It didn't feel great, its set a bit tight," I sighed as Tom slammed the hood down. "Maybe it's just the different track. We've been practising in a wheat field at home."

"Yeah, every track is different. I'm Jack, by the way. I run the listing for hot laps and races," The guy nodded, glancing down at his clipboard. "Unnh, let's see. I've got you down as car number 54 and you're the seventh car in the hot laps. If you want to take a few more warm-up laps, no one would mind. Not since this is a new track for you."

"Well, I dunno what more laps would do," I shrugged my shoulders. "Oh, I'm Chris, this is Tom and that's George over there, taking that silly flashing light off the roof."

Each of us held out our hands and shook his.

"It's up to you if you want to take a few more laps or not," he shrugged his shoulders as well, then he grinned. "I should tell you, that guy you were following? He's one of our fastest cars on the hot laps quite regularly, so you weren't doing that badly when you tucked in behind him. You were glued to his bumper most of the way around the track."

"Well, everything under the hood looks good enough for now," Tom sighed heavily. "I think we'll check out the tire pressures and that. Maybe if we find enough time we might do some adjustments under the rear end though. Chris felt that either the sway bars or the front camber might be a bit tight and we sure aren't gonna touch the camber right now."

"Well, you are seventh out on the hot laps and we'll be starting them in ... about twelve minutes," Jack said, glancing at his watch. "You've got a half hour, easy. I could even shove your car back a spot or two if you want."

"Thanks Jack, but we can't do much in that amount of time," Tom announced, then headed for the back of the pickup truck. "Since this is our first time here, we don't want to rock the boat, or upset any of the other drivers."

"Okay, but I can tell you that it won't bother anyone," Jack rolled his eyes at me. "I'll be around to warn you when it's time to get on the track for your hot laps."

I just nodded and turned toward Tom as he pulled down the tailgate of the pickup.

"Where did this truck come from?" I frowned.

"Don't you recognise it?" George laughed. "Its Wil's. Frank said we needed a support truck, so he offered Wil a free paint job and a tune up if he'd let us use it."

"Jeez, the next thing he's gonna want to do is paint my horses to match this dang car," I shook my head and laughed.

"Hey, why worry, this is fun and it doesn't cost us a penny," George laughed.

I had to agree with him, but as I'd said, I was in a strange space right then. Everything around me had a slightly off of normal feel, almost as if time wasn't constant. For instance right then, time seemed to race ahead. It seemed to take only seconds to jack up the car, spread a tarp on the ground and slide under the rear end of the car with Tom. Then just a few seconds later, it seemed I was out and beside the car, putting my helmet on and readying myself to do my hot laps.

However, once I was back on the track, those five laps seemed to take forever. I did take the first lap relatively slowly, but after that I was trying to make time and it felt like the car was logy. It seemed to accelerate slowly and then it just didn't feel like it had much speed on the top end. And the corners? Oh my goodness! Once I was up to speed on them I was sure I was going to lose that car a couple of times. The second time through 1-2 corner of the oval, the rear end of the car wanted to walk around and take the lead. It started to swing wide during my four-wheel drift so I had to ease off the gas slightly, then counter steer to hold it on the track. I think the car was almost at a forty-five-degree angle to the direction I was moving all the way through that corner. That did not feel good in one way, yet it felt great in another. I knew at that point that I was on a knife edge, just short of losing control.

The only lap that felt half decent to me was the second to last one before I was flagged off the track. On that lap I was able to hold the car close to the line I wanted to use and it felt like I hit my cornering marks right on the money. I had the car just barely under control all the way around the track, but I wondered if I had eased off on the gas a bit too much on that tight corner. Maybe I wasn't going as fast as I needed to place well, but it was certainly easier to handle the car at that pace.

When I pulled back into the infield and over by Wil's pickup, I thought George was having problems. He was literally bouncing like a kid who was waiting for a treat in a candy store. Tom was grinning and trying to calm him down, so once I pulled to a stop, I whipped off my helmet and asked him what was wrong.

"Oh, nothing much," Tom drawled slowly, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "It's too bad this isn't a regular race though. You just set a track record on your second lap, then busted that by a quarter second on the fourth one."

"You're kidding me!" I couldn't believe him.

"Unh uh, here comes Jack to make it official."

I'd hardly gotten out of the car before the tall lanky guy was back and he had a big grin on his face.

"Well, we already know who's leading out the main today," he held out a hand. "Congratulations, what the hell did you three do to that car while you were waiting?"

"Nothing much," Tom laughed. "That was just Chris, doing his best and compensating for the problems we're having. Now if he can just learn how to pass guys during the race, we'll do okay."

"Hell, at the speed he was travelling he'll be so far ahead of everyone else that he's liable to pass the whole field in the fifty lap main," Jack snorted. "Oops, gotta go and warn the next guy to get ready to go out on the track for his laps."

We had a few of the other drivers and mechanics wander over and talk to us in the next little while and I started to wonder about what was going on, because no one seemed to want to believe that this was our first race. All of them seemed to think that we must be seasoned pros or something, but then they'd look at our faces and realize that we were too young to have raced much. It wasn't long before I got tired of trying to explain and clammed up. I thought I'd let George try to explain that we had a little test oval that we tried the car out on. He had a far better gift of gab than either Tom or I did and I really wasn't in the mood to talk anyway. I was still having a bit of trouble adjusting to the strange feelings about the time discrepancies I was living with at the moment.

I suppose what I was feeling had something to do with the excitement around me, but when I was watching the other cars making their hot laps, they seemed to be going really fast. On the other hand when I'd been behind the wheel, I had felt I was moving slower than I'd wanted to be able to go. Right at the moment I was impatient to get the race started, but at the same time I was worried about screwing up. My stomach was tied in knots again and I was actually glad that I hadn't eaten a big meal before we came. I might have lost it if I had.

When it was finally time to go out onto the track, I felt very strange. I'd never done this before, but thankfully, Jack and another guy had come over to talk to me about how to start the field of cars. I was to take the front inside position and I'd have another car beside me on the outside. We were supposed to take at least two laps around the track under a white flag over green, but they warned that it might be more laps than that. Once the white flag was pulled and the green flag dropped, we were okay to race. The only thing that really worried me was what pace to set during those preliminary laps.

"I'll talk to Clarence. He'll be in the car on your right," Jack chuckled. "Just keep him beside you for the first lap or so and he'll show you the pace. Just remember that when that green flag drops the whole field is going to want to go flat out. If you don't move fast enough, the guy behind you might tap your bumper."

The funny thing was that once we were on the track, I had trouble holding my speed down slow enough to keep the other car on the outside of my passenger's door. Then after three laps of trying to go slowly in order to bunch all the cars together, I saw the green flag start to drop. As soon as I saw the first sign of downward motion, my foot pressed down on the accelerator.

All I can really remember clearly of that race was the first lap. Clarence, in car number 02, was on my right going into corner 1-2 and he almost passed me going down the back straight. However as we went into corner 3-4, I dropped well under him and came out of that corner in front of the stands leading the way by more than a full car length. Since he was behind me, I was able to go slightly higher on the track into corner 1-2 on the second lap and from then on, it was no contest.

All I really remember of the rest of the race was that I passed several cars, all on the inside and all of them on 3-4 corner. It just seemed that I could take that corner faster and tighter than anyone else. I think there were several cars there that were faster than Car 54 on the straight, but they just couldn't hang along side of me on the corners. So although I passed a few cars, none of them passed me.

When the flagman signalled me over to take a flag lap with the checkered flag, I felt somewhat stunned and once I tossed it back to him after the lap, I was literally shaking. I suppose that was the adrenaline purging itself out of my system, but it was almost scary. I'd never felt that drained before, not that I could remember.

Once I came to a stop, Tom and George almost dragged me out of the car. That was probably a good thing, because I'm not sure I could have crawled out on my own.

### Chapter 26