# Car 54

####
© 2005 / revised 2014
K Pelle

### Chapter 34:
Major Junction Ahead - Merge Left

When we got down to the farm, Mom and Dad were almost ready to leave. I'm not sure if it was our actions after they saw us, or if they'd talked things over beforehand, but when we got into the car Dad got in front with me and Mom got in the back seat with Sandy. I do know that all the way to the lake, Dad kept me involved in a conversation, so that Mom and Sandy could talk. I actually found the situation to be a bit funny, but even though I wanted to, I didn't dare grin about it. In fact, I tried to act as if Mom and Dad were doing me a favour.

Once we got to the lake and out of the car, things were a lot easier for me to handle. For one thing, once I'd had a chance to talk to Carissa for a few seconds she could help us with our masquerade. Then too I was inundated by the attention that I received from Corinna and Wil. Somehow they had decided that I was solely responsible for straightening out the mess with the cops. I couldn't seem to make them see the fact that Carissa who had been the mover and shaker who had stirred things up so changes would happen.

Of course I had to talk to John and Wilma Coulter. After that I spent some time with Frank Dolens and his family, then I spent even more time talking with Sam and Ann McAdam. That was the hard one. Ann McAdam had noticed that I and Sandy weren't spending much time together and she spent several minutes letting me know what a wonderful young woman Sandy was going to become. I was very grateful to Sam for finally leading her away when some of his relatives showed up. That gave me a chance to finally get to spend time with someone my age.

I moved over to talk to Tom, George and Wil who were over by Car 54. "Hi guys, what's going on?"

"Not a darn thing," Tom grinned. "I think the car is ready, but George is going to eat and run on us today."

"Yeah, so I heard. Thanks for offering to look after the chores for me, George," I nodded.

"I don't mind," he grinned. "Your chores are nothing, besides Beth is all wound up about seeing her horses again. If I can do a few chores and make her happy at the same time, I don't mind at all."

I was trying to think of something to say to that when we were inundated by females. Carissa and Corinna appeared first, then Sandy showed up with Jess and Jean as well as a tall blonde that I'd never seen before. It turned out that she was Sandy's cousin and her name was Jacqueline, but answered to the nickname, Jackie.

She was stunning, the ultimate blonde bombshell and she knew it. To make things more interesting, ten seconds after being introduced to the three of us guys, she was on the make. Unfortunately for her none of us were extremely interested, but to my discomfort she homed in on me.

What bothered me was that Carissa and Sandy thought it was funny. For some reason they held back and let her play, disregarding the helpless looks I threw their way. In fact Carissa winked at me, which threw me completely off balance. Just what was that wink for? Was she implying that I should go along with Jackie's play and act as if I was interested? Or did it mean that Jackie wasn't really interested in me and Carissa was letting me know that I was safe? For a short time I really didn't know what to do.

Meanwhile, Jackie was playing the part of a dumb blonde, pressing close to me, rubbing a very full breast against my arm, batting her eyes and broadcasting the impression that she was available. But, there was something about her actions that read wrong to me, almost as if there was a red flag waving in my view. After the third or fourth dumb question about driving a stock car I realized what was wrong. While her face and her body were broadcasting willingness and even eagerness, her eyes weren't. There was something in the depth of her eyes that just didn't ring true to her actions.

At the same time something else was happening. I didn't notice at first, but after a moment it dawned on me that the two of us were being left near the car as all of my friends moved away. I don't think Jackie noticed either. I decided that this was a setup of some sort, but at first I didn't know what to do. However since we were standing fully exposed to anyone who happened to be watching I wasn't worried. I let Jackie prattle on, answering her dumb questions until no one would be able to hear my voice if I spoke quietly, then I lifted a hand, palm forward. Her voice stopped and she looked slightly shocked.

"Jackie, I don't know what you're up to, but I know you're acting," I said quietly. "Underneath that dumb blonde act, you're very intelligent, but scared as hell. Now, I'm not someone you should be afraid of because I try my best not to hurt people. In fact, I try to help them if I can, so just what is going on?"

"What do you mean?" she whispered, pulling back a few inches and frowning slightly.

"I mean what I said," I shrugged. "For one thing you aren't as naive as you've been acting. In fact, it takes a very intelligent person to come across as someone so untutored in the real world, but even more than that you're forcing yourself to be close to me and I can sense it. You're afraid of something and I think it's either me or men in general, but I want you to know that I won't hurt you. At least, I won't hurt you intentionally, but I can't discount the fact that accidents happen."

"So just like that, I'm supposed to trust you?" she snapped, dropping her act.

"No, that will take time, but since you came over here with Sandy and Carissa, I imagine they've already told you the same thing. I'm not a super critical person and I'm certainly not a person who sets out to hurt others, but since we've just met, you'll have to go on our word for now," I shrugged my shoulders. "I really can't prove it in a short time."

"Hmm," she mumbled, then tried to smile. "Okay, but you should know that I've never met one man in my life that hasn't hurt me, so trusting you is damn hard."

"Are you telling me that even the men in your family have hurt you?"

"Hell yes, them most of all and my mother is just as bad."

"Well, if you don't like men, why do you dress and act the way you do?" It was my turn to frown questioningly.

She was quiet for a minute, then turned and looked toward Sandy and Carissa before sighing deeply and turning toward me again.

"I dress this way because my folks insist on it and I act like I do to hide the fact that I'm weird," she stopped speaking and pulled away, her face looking as if she was terrified of saying anything more for fear that I might hurt her.

"I'm going to guess that from what you said, your folks know that you like girls, but think it's wrong," I said and watched her face register shock.

"How did you know?" she whispered, almost silently.

"Well, you're not all that fucking weird," I snapped. "Didn't Sandy and Carissa talk to you about their feelings?"

"You mean that they . . ," her voice trailed off into nothing.

"No they aren't lesbians, but they like both guys and gals. You should be talking to them, not me."

"Unh, I don't think so," Jackie seemed to droop.

"Why not?"

"Because that's just as weird and the Bible says it's wrong."

"Well, I'm not about to argue with you about your beliefs, but to my way of thinking you're letting your belief in the Bible torture you, and I don't think that's right," I sighed heavily. "I really do think you should talk to Carissa about that, and Sandy too for that matter, after all the two of you are related. Oh by the way, were you raised in the Mormon church like Sandy's mom was?"

"Yes, but what has that to do with anything?"

"Nothing really, but I thought all Mormon women were taught that obedience to the men in their family was paramount?"

"We are, but I can't seem to do that either," she broke into tears.

"Dammit all, please don't do that," I sighed.

"What? Why can't I cry?" she whimpered.

"Because when I see a woman cry, I want to comfort her and fix what's wrong, but you don't trust me so I can't even wipe away your tears for fear of upsetting you."

She looked at me strangely, then to my surprise she walked off toward Sandy and Carissa. I just shook my head and gave up, then wandered off to try to find Tom and George, deciding that this was turning into one very weird day. Thankfully it wasn't long before the steaks were ready and we could eat.

Mom called me aside to talk to me after we'd eaten, which didn't really surprise me.

"We're going to catch a ride home with George and Beth," she smiled.

"Oh, I thought you'd stick around to see the races," I looked at her in surprise.

"Well, to be honest, seeing those cars go so fast and watching you in the midst of them worries me a bit, even if I know in my heart that you're a very good driver. So, since we have the excuse of being short handed to do the chores, Willard has suggested we go home and let you have your fun. I'll still worry, but at least I won't have my heart in my mouth all the time."

"But, I'm safer in the car on the track than I am when I'm driving on a regular road," I protested.

"I know that in my head, but it hasn't sunk into my heart yet," Mom smiled. "Anyway, I didn't come over here to argue about that. I had a completely different reason in mind. I wanted to talk to you about Sandy."

"Oh, what about her?" I thought she'd caught on to our charade.

"I think you're being too hard on her," she frowned at me. "She tries to hide it, but talking to her on the ride up here, I'm quite sure she really cares for you."

That statement took me completely by surprise.

"I think you should consider giving her another chance," she smiled. "It's not that I don't like Carissa, because I do, but I think Sandy is very nice as well. Besides I'm sure you know that I think it's far too soon to settle down with anyone, so I'm suggesting that you don't slam the door in Sandy's face, at least not yet."

"Are you saying that because of the fact that Carissa ..."

"No, not at all," Mom interrupted, then she grinned mischievously and glanced around as if checking that no one could hear her as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Actually, I find the idea that if he plays his cards right, my son might be spending a night in bed with more than one young woman rather titillating."

She was blushing then and she lifted her hand in goodbye, then rushed off. All I could do was stare after her. Needless to say, I was completely flabbergasted. So, not knowing what to do or say to anyone right then, I wandered slowly over to the stock car and leaned against the fender. That's where Frank found me a few minutes later.

"Well, Chris, are you ready to race?"

"Yeah, I think so," I nodded. "At least on the track I have a good idea of what to expect next."

"Yes, you've had an interesting summer, haven't you?"

"Oh, Frank, that is putting it mildly," I snorted. "I've been turned every which way, but loose."

"Well, life is like that," he grew serious. "However, I came over to tell you that today you have some very heavy competition, drivers who've come in from Edmonton and Calgary. I wanted to let you know that win, lose or draw, I'm not worried. Just having you in the race is enough, so just go out there and have fun. Okay?"

"Thanks, I think I will."

"Alright, Chris, it's time to get down to the track. Wil and Tom have already gone down to find your spot in the pits, so all you have to do it pull on your gear and go. I'll talk to you after the races."

With that, he rested his hand on my shoulder for a second, then walked away. I sighed, then reached in through the window of the car and pulled out my racing gear, deciding that today was the day when I intended to find out just how fast the car could go. By the time I was dressed, I'd succeeded in clearing my head of all thoughts, but those about racing. I drove slowly down the hill from the area where we'd picnicked, then eased up to the track entrance. That's when I saw the tall, slim figure of Jack, the track marshal, smiling as he waited for me with his clipboard in his hand.

At that moment I was in the strange mood that took over whenever I raced in any way, completely at ease, yet hyped to do my very best. No matter what else happened that day, I was confident that I was going to do well.

As Jack walked over to the car, his face broke into a smile.

"Hey, Chris, good to see you," he greeted me, shouting over the sound of the passing cars on the track. "There's some hotshot drivers here today from the big city, but they're used to running on asphalt, so watch out for them, huh? They'll be all over the track for a while, and we're trying to give them a bit of extra time for practice laps."

"Oh great," I grinned. "But then I was a new driver last time I was here too."

"Oh sure," he grinned. "Aren't you the guy who has his own practice oval and learned to drive with a hand and one foot in casts?"

"Well, sorta," I grinned. "Someone's been talking too much and probably bragging too."

"Hey, if a new driver can win a race on his first time out, people ask questions. Most of the guys think that you're the reason these hotshots are here."

"What? Why do they think that?"

"Well, your sponsor got us a lot of publicity last time you were here and it appears that these guys listen to the news and read the papers. We're not complaining, mind you. I mean just look at the crowd we've got in the stands."

"Okay," I sighed. "So, how soon can I get into the infield and over to the pits."

"Well, if you want to get there in a hurry, I'd suggest you just tuck into an open space and weave through traffic until you can safely head into pit lane. Of course all the cars on the track right now are the city boys, so you'd be taking your life in your hands to do that."

"I can see that," I frowned at the cars on the track. "What a mess."

"Yeah," He answered, shaking his head at the cars that were circling the track, barely in control.

We both watched the weaving, sliding cars that were trying to master a dirt track and a power slide, but I simply shook my head in disbelief. They all seemed to be braking as they went into the corner instead of accelerating, then if they did manage to start a power slide, they were tentative about using the power of the engine to 'work' the slide.

Not only that, but I could see from the way that the cars went into a corner that their springing and tire setup was wrong for running on dirt. Their setup placed far too much pressure on the right front suspension. Since that corner of the car took the brunt of the G-force in a power slide, I was worried that one of them would have a right front wheel fold underneath them during a race. If that happened, there was a good chance that the car would flip and roll. Since all of them seemed to insist on cutting as tight to the inside of a corner as possible, that wrecked car would roll right in front of any driver trying to pass them on the outside. That outer line of the corner was where any of the regular drivers would normally be racing and they wouldn't stand a chance of avoiding the wreck.

"Jack, I'm not so sure that I'm going to drive in a race with those cars on the track."

"What? Why?"

"Because someone could get hurt or even killed out there. They don't know what they're doing and if nothing else, they're going to cause accidents. I don't understand why you've even let them on the track."

"We tried to stop them, but we can't. We don't have a rule on the books of our racing association to prevent new drivers from joining. In fact, we encourage new drivers and if they're members with a valid driver's license and have a legally set up car, they can race. Look at you; according to the records, you're a new driver. All you have on the records is one day of racing and one win. Some of those guys on the track right now have been racing for ten years. Their only problem is that all their racing has been on asphalt."

"Oh, I'm not refusing to drive, but 'Car 54' is acting up. I think I can feel engine troubles coming on. Can't you hear it?"

"Come on, Chris, you wouldn't do that," Jack protested.

"Oh, I dunno. If you had a car, would you want to have it wrecked by stupidity?" I asked with a smile. "Hey, there's a gap in traffic, gotta go."

With that, I accelerated directly across the track and into the entrance to pit lane, leaving Jack staring after me. I'd gotten within fifty feet of the space in the pits that Tom and Wil had staked out for us to use when the car coughed a few times, then died. I tried the starter, but had no joy, so when Tom got up to my window I threw my hands in the air and looked at him wonderingly.

"What happened? What did it sound like to you?" he demanded.

"You heard it. It just quit," I snapped, glancing around and seeing that all the people nearby were locals. "Sorry! Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe '54' has decided she doesn't want to race these idiot visitors we've got here today."

I heard several sympathetic chuckles and saw a few nods as well as several grins at that.

"Well, we can't leave you here. Just stay behind the wheel and steer to your pit. We'll push you by hand," One of the guys outside said loudly.

It only took a moment or two before they'd pushed the car into our space and Tom had the hood open. However, by the time I managed to clamber out of the driver's seat and get my helmet off there must have been twenty or thirty guys crowding around him and offering suggestions. I was about to say something, but Wil's patience was already worn short by the previous problems he'd had that weekend.

"Will you guys BACK OFF!" Wil bellowed. "I know you want to help, but please, if we need help, we'll ask for it. Now please give us some elbow room so we can work on our problem."

I had to hide a grin as I watched all the 'helpers' suddenly look sheepish and back away. I reached out and caught one young guy's arm as he scurried past me.

"Hey guy, could you hunt up Clarence Walker for me? I'd like to ask him a question or two, but I'm up to my ears in problems and can't leave the car," I asked.

"No problem," he answered. "I'll get him for you."

As soon as he was gone and the 'nosy parkers' had cleared back a few feet, I moved to the front of the car and leaned in over the fender so my head was near Tom's.

"You'll find it isn't getting any fuel," I said quietly. "I intentionally shorted out the wire to the fuel pump and blew the fuse."

"Oh, I wondered," he frowned at me. "I take it that you're not happy about the out-of-town cars?"

"You've got it," I nodded, reaching out and pulling off a spark plug wire as if I knew what I was looking for. "On top of everything else, those cars aren't safe on this track. You can't see it so much from here because we're on the inside of the track, but their suspension is all wrong. Because of the way they hit the corners and the way the cars are set up, too much weight is being transferred to the right front suspension. If they ever get up to racing speed, something is almost certain to snap."

"Oh hell, with them running such a low line in the corner . . ," he glanced up at the track to watch one of the cars as it went into the corner and what happened to the car.

"Yeah, that's a major accident, just waiting to happen," I nodded. "I've asked to have Clarence come talk to me, maybe there's a rule about the car's suspension that we can use to disqualify them from racing."

"They aren't going to like that."

"So what?" I growled, but started thinking of the problems disqualifying them might cause.

I didn't have long to think about it though because Clarence showed up almost immediately.

"Hi Chris, what can I do to help you?" he asked as he came up and held out his right hand.

"Hi Clarence. I'd like some advice, so stick your head under the hood with us. That way we can talk and not have our voices drowned out by the racket those guys on the track are making," I shook his hand as I jerked my head toward the track.

"Okay. They are loud, aren't they?" he nodded, pressing close beside me as we crowded up to the car.

"Yeah, bigger engines, different exhausts, poor suspension and a bunch of swelled heads," Tom snapped. "I don't want to even work on the car to get it going again. Chris could get killed out there with those egotistical jackasses on the track."

"Jeez, do you think it's that bad?" Clarence asked in astonishment. "Most of us think it's funny and were thinking we'd just run away from them because they're so slow."

"Sure, but this is a short track. Eventually you're going to have to pass one of them and that's when all hell might break loose. They simply don't know how to drive on dirt," Wil snapped.

"Not only that, but their suspension is all wrong," I added, going on to explain what I'd noticed about the front end of their cars.

"Well, the safety crew seems to think they should give them a conditional pass for today, but if they want to race here again, they'd have to change that," Clarence explained.

"Okay, That does it!" Tom snapped and with that he shoved the rest of us back, slammed the hood down, then stepped on the bumper so he could turn and sit on the hood. "I've had enough of this bullshit. If the safety crew isn't going to enforce the rules, then we withdraw. We won't race if we can't expect to do it safely."

"But, Tom ..." Clarence protested.

"We've worked too fucking hard on this car to race it against cars that aren't safe to have race against us. I'm not going to be party to someone getting killed just so some big city asshole can have an ego trip," Tom shouted. "The rules about engine size, maximum horsepower, minimum suspension and a lot more are being overlooked. I won't stand by and let Chris get killed because of politics or advertising. You can do what you want, but this car isn't racing while those junk heaps are on the track."

I was surprised at Tom's vehemence, but the drivers and pit crews around us were astonished. After a few seconds thought though, I decided Tom was right. I hopped up and sat beside him on the hood of the car, then Will hopped up and sat on the other side. Clarence was left standing below and staring up at us. That's about the time the guys who drove and worked on the car on our right talked for a minute, then walked around and sat on their car's hood too.

After that there was a stampede as people walked back to their cars, then followed our example and sat watching the stupidity on the track from front row seats.

In only a few minutes, the only people standing on the ground in the infield were the crews of the visiting cars and our track officials. Word must have gotten around who had started the 'sit-down strike' because in a few moments, a half dozen track officials and a smattering of other people were headed our way. Clarence was leading the crowd, but when he got to the front of his car, he hopped up on the hood and sat beside his mechanic. He wasn't quiet though because he was stopping the gawking snoops from coming close to us. We could hear him saying that anyone not on the safety committee needed to stay back because this was strictly a local driver's issue about the safety of the track.

When the six track officials came up to the car, Jack was leading them.

"What's this all about, Chris?" he asked.

"It ain't Chris that's pissed off with you chicken shit jackasses, it's me," Tom snarled at him."You make all of us tow the line for safety regulations, so what the hell is this crap today? Those cars out there on the track right now are as unsafe as hell for this kind of racing."

"We haven't cleared them to race yet, but for your information, all of those cars have brand-new safety certificates from their own tracks," Some dude waved a sheaf of papers at Tom.

"Sure they do, for asphalt tracks," Tom roared. "How many of those cars have bigger engines than we're allowed? How many of them have the reinforcements that we need on our suspensions for cornering and drifting? How many of them have the right size tires? How many of them have the steering set up correctly to drift the corners, and not plow the front end? And those are just a few of the problems that I can see as plain as the nose on your face. You let those guys run with our cars and someone will get killed because they are going to try to keep up and they're set up all wrong for this track. They can't control those things on this track."

Someone must have flagged down a car that had been hot lapping, because one of the drivers of one of the visiting cars came into the pits and skidded to a halt, then came storming over to us.

"What the hell do you mean, saying my car isn't safe?" he screamed.

"It's probably safe as hell ... on your track. On this track, it's a fucking death trap," Tom snapped and pointed to a car that had heat waves rising from the hood since it had just been running hard. "Is that it over there?"

"Yeah, what of it?" the guy was actually being held back from getting too close to Tom.

"Well, just looking at it from here I can see that your front end suspension is wrong for handling and safety. Then I notice that you've got the wrong tires on it for dirt track racing. On top of that your engine sounded like an OHV V8, and we only allow flatheads or sixes here. I'll bet you're making what, maybe three hundred horsepower or more?"

"Probably, so what?" the guy was frowning.

"We're skirting the edges of safety with this car at two-thirty to two-forty. You're at least forty horses over the posted track limit of two-fifty. That means when you hit the gas in the straights, you're gonna break your tires free. Even a little wiggle of the steering wheel and you're gonna be in a two-wheel drift, then the ass end of the car will try to pass you. And that's on the straight stretches. What the hell you're gonna do on the corners when the right front wheel ..."

Just then fate interrupted Tom's argument with a loud crash, the sound of tearing metal, then the sound of an engine that raced to improbable speeds, and suddenly died with a growling snap.

One quick glance to our right sent both Tom and me diving off the hood of the car and racing along the edge of the track toward the wreckage of two of the visiting cars. On the way past the back of Wil's truck each of us had grabbed a fire extinguisher, but even though we ran as hard as we could, we weren't the first on the scene. Actually, by the time we got there, the guys had gotten one of the drivers out of his car and were trying to get to the other one. The cars had T-boned on the corner and the following car had climbed over the top of the lead car, rolling up and onto it. The upper car had come to a stop with its front wheels past the passenger's door of the overturned car. That left the driver of the lower car, trapped. He was pinned upside down, in the middle of the wreckage and if it hadn't been for the roll cage, he'd have been crushed. He wasn't though, we could all here him screaming at us to get him out.

Tom was just reaching for his walkie-talkie to call Jerry, our tow truck driver, when I poked him in the ribs.

"If that's for Jerry, he's almost here," I told him, pointing to the tow truck, which was just entering the track. Then I raised my voice and hollered. "Anyone checked the engine of the top car? Any danger of fire?"

"We foamed it from underneath, but we need to get up there to really get at it," someone answered just as loudly.

"There's a tow truck on the way," someone else screamed. "He can separate them."

There were enough guys there to eat the job, so I grabbed Tom's elbow, pulling him back.

"Look at the right front wheel of the car that caused the wreck," he pointed. "The suspension is folded under, just like we said would happen."

"Yup," I answered, glancing over at one of the safety officials, but he wouldn't meet my eye.

Tom started to say something else, but I yanked him away and managed to quieten him. "Tom, shut up. We don't need to say anything. That accident proved our point. Now, let the safety crew keep some of their pride. Let them make the announcement of what they're going to do. I can't see them letting these guys race. If they do, we simply stay out of the races."

"But ..."

"Tom, calm down. No one likes to have their noses rubbed in their mistakes. Now, there are enough guys here to eat this job and too damn many who were only standing around in the way. Let's thin the crowd. We can go back and fix the car. Then if they decide to have a real race, we can be in it."

It took a bit of arguing, but with Wil's help, we eventually got Tom calmed down enough to go back to '54' and go to work, changing that fuse, and fussing under the hood. Meanwhile Jerry, along with another tow truck driver, got the two smashed cars off the track. Then the track grader went to work to straighten up the corner that had been plowed up by the wreck.

We had '54' running and Tom was tweaking the carburettor when I looked up to see the visiting driver who'd been arguing with Tom approaching, so I shut off the engine.

"Hey, I was almost done," Tom grouched at me, then saw where I was looking. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," The other driver held up both hands as if in surrender, grinning sheepishly. "I looked at Alan's car and asked him about the accident. You guys were right on the money. He felt the front suspension give way, then all hell broke loose. He'll be over to thank you for the tow truck's help when the doc's get done checking him out."

"Apology accepted, but don't thank us, we didn't do nothin'," Tom waved a hand in dismissal.

"Hey, I saw you two take off with fire extinguishers and it was your tow truck that separated the cars so we could get Tommy out of the wreck."

"Like I said, we didn't do nothin'. Jerry was acting on his own and by the time Chris and I got to the wreck, everything was under control," Tom snorted. "Now, what do you know about carburettors?"

"Why, have you got troubles? My name's Frank, by the way."

"Hi Frank, I'm Tom and that's Chris in the zoot suit. He thinks he can drive. Wil has gone off to talk to our folks and let 'em know what's goin' on," Tom grinned at me. "You probably heard, ol' 'Hot Shot' there, had the car die on him just gettin' here from across the track. We had to push it into the pit."

"Hmm," Frank looked at me as if he was judging my veracity. "Rather a convenient happening, considering your feelings at the moment."

"Hey, don't tell me things like that," I laughed. "Tom is already trying to convince me that this old beast has a personality and you're making it sound like she didn't feel safe to race, so she was refusing to run."

"Stranger things have happened," Frank smiled. "I'll swear that at times my stock car gets stubborn and won't cooperate. Maybe they do have personalities?"

Over the next while, we found that Frank was actually a nice guy and so was his mechanic. When the track was opened up for our hot laps, I took a few, then asked Jack if it would be okay to let Frank take the car around for a few laps. He couldn't see any reason I shouldn't let Frank drive for a bit, but didn't think it would be right to let him race. I didn't know why and I didn't ask. However, I did get Frank behind the wheel and he made it around the track a few times without hitting anything, then he came back laughing.

"What's so funny?" Tom demanded, before I could open my mouth.

"It's just that this kind of driving is so different," Frank snorted. "Those guys were passing me like I was sitting still, but every time I started to speed up, it felt like I was sliding all over the track."

"That's the point," I grinned. "When things are going good, I'm in a controlled drift as I go three quarters of the way around the track. If you're doing well, you pass other cars while both of you are in a controlled drift."

"I know, I was watching the guys doing it as they passed me," Frank grinned as he shook his head in bewilderment. "I suppose if I tried long enough I'd get it, but to be honest I'm just as happy to watch this time."

It wasn't much longer before the preliminary heats started. I was in the third heat and won it easily, but for overall time, I was in fifth place. That convinced me that the other cars and drivers had been working on their cars and their driving skills. At least fifth place did qualify me to be in the first race, even if it was behind Clarence Walker, Gary Wagner and two other drivers that I didn't know. I wasn't worried. After all, Frank had even said he didn't care if I won or not that day, so I planned on just going out and having fun.

In the break between the so called 'slow' main and the 'fast' main, I had a passing thought about Carissa and Sandy, wondering what they were up to at the moment. I quickly put them out of my mind again, resolving to let those worries come back later. Right then I needed to think about racing.

When we lined up to start the final race of the night, we were two abreast. I could look ahead into the rear window of Gary Wagner's car and couldn't help having a grin coming to my face. I wondered just what he was going to do during the race. I knew he wasn't going to want me to pass him and I had heard that he was a master of all the shady tricks of racing, so I planned to be ready for just about anything. For a moment, I questioned why I found that amusing, then it dawned on me that I was comparing a race with Gary to real life. Real life was almost always exciting for me, but it wasn't always fair, neither was a race against Gary. Then I realized that in some ways I was a lot like him, perhaps in many ways; if I saw an advantage, I was going to use it. The difference between us was that I didn't load the dice, at least not often.

But today, we were racing and I was out to have fun. Today, all bets were off. Today, come hell or high water, I planned on passing car #19 and Mr. Gary Wagner at least once and if possible, twice. After all, I had fifty laps to meet that goal.

This race was going to be interesting and a lot of fun!

As we approached the green flag, everyone accelerated. However, Gary didn't just accelerate. He wigwagged his car and goosed the gas in order to throw up more dirt than normal, trying to cover my windshield with muck. Luckily, the track was quite dry and sandy, but that set the tone for the race; if he wanted to play, I was willing. I just grinned to myself and watched for the first opportunity to repay his shenanigans. It came on the second lap. As we hit the start of the 1-2 corner, Gary was just a touch wide, I tapped my brake lightly to break my drift, tucked my car's nose inside his left rear fender and stomped the gas to the floor. My car's right side rode along his left as he fought to hold his car on the track. Luckily, I was far enough forward when I contacted his car that we didn't spin out, but both of us were in a full drift all the way through the corner. I hadn't noticed what had happened to the cars that had been on the outside of the two lead cars in my lane, but as we left 1-2 corner and hit the back straight, Clarence was leading with Gary and me right behind him. I was being held to the inside of the track by Gary's car, so we were side by side behind Clarence. Somehow I passed them both on the back straight and held that position through 3-4 corner, so in two laps, I'd gone from fifth place to lead.

That didn't last though.

Clarence, Gary and I diced for the lead lap after lap. I think I had a grin on my face the whole time. Clarence won by half a car length, I came in second, but Gary was only inches behind me as we raced by the checkered flag. In other words, as we ended the race, we were darn near side by side. Clarence was inches from the inner barrier, I was inches from his car and from Gary, who was inches from the barrier in front of the grandstand seats.

I think we must have really gotten the crowd in the stands excited because I could hear them screaming over the sound of our cars as we roared by. I guess the folks in the infield had enjoyed the race just as much, considering the reception we got when we pulled into the pits. The only one who seemed more sober than the rest was Tom. After he looked closely at the right side of the car where Gary Wagner and I had bumped and ground our way around a couple of turns, he just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, Chris, the paint wasn't even completely cured on the car. What the hell were you thinking?"

"He was giving as good as he got," A loud voice boomed and I turned to stare into Gary Wagner's face. "Good driving, kid. You made a race out of that. I enjoyed the hell out of it."

I was astonished that he took it so well, but all I could think to do at the moment was to grin and shake his hand. He'd barely stepped back when Frank, the visiting driver grabbed my hand.

"Damn, I'm glad I wasn't in that race. You guys play for keeps. Where the hell did you learn to drive like that? I've never seen anything like that before in my life. At least ten or twelve times I was certain one of you was going to wreck the other one. Hell, I got as much fun out of watching that race as I usually get out of driving," he rattled off several firecracker-like remarks.

"Well, that's the way some dirt track races are," I grinned. "Not all of them are quite like that one was though. Hey, here comes Clarence after his victory lap. Let's go congratulate the winner."

"Better stick with your car instead. They've opened the corral gates to let the cattle in," Gary pointed to the crowd of spectators coming our way across the track. "I'll see ya later. I'm going to go try to keep sticky fingered kids out of my car."

He was right. The crowd that day was wild. For one thing, it was the first time in my life that I ever got asked for an autograph. I thought the first kid was just teasing me, but his mom soon straightened me out on that score. She not only wanted her kid to have an autograph, but she wanted me to pose with her for a picture as well. Wil didn't want to have anything to do with signing autographs, but I made certain Tom got involved and I wished George had stuck around. It wasn't as if we signed that many autographs, but just the idea that we had fans who would want one amazed me. At least it was late enough in the evening that the crowd of fans didn't stick around long

### Chapter 35